Somerville Farce
““Or at least it will be a success among those members of society most likely to dine out on gossip,” Trixy told her reflection in the drawing-room mirror before hastening out of the room, on her way to join Lady Amelia at the top of the landing outside the ballroom. “Tongues will be wagging all over Mayfair tomorrow when it gets out that the esteemed Duke of Glynde couldn’t bother to show up at his own ball—the rat!”
“A rat, am I? With beady eyes and one of those long, straight tails? Oh, unkin...d! Unkind! And after all I’ve done for you, Miss Stourbridge? I have to confess it, you have cut me to the quick.”
Trixy halted in her tracks and whirled about to see none other than the supposedly absent Duke of Glynde, large as life, lounging at his ease against a thick marble pillar in the hallway. He was clad in splendidly cut midnight-blue evening clothes, his snowy white cravat accenting his tanned skin that flattered his casually arranged dark locks, sparkling, even white teeth, and gray eyes.MoreLess
“A rat, am I? With beady eyes and one of those long, straight tails? Oh, unkin...d! Unkind! And after all I’ve done for you, Miss Stourbridge? I have to confess it, you have cut me to the quick.”
Trixy halted in her tracks and whirled about to see none other than the supposedly absent Duke of Glynde, large as life, lounging at his ease against a thick marble pillar in the hallway. He was clad in splendidly cut midnight-blue evening clothes, his snowy white cravat accenting his tanned skin that flattered his casually arranged dark locks, sparkling, even white teeth, and gray eyes.MoreLess
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