An Apple Pie for a Duke Read Free

as was the duty of any peer, but his valet was – as
is often the case with valets – a pedantic connoisseur of the ton and all its
intricacies.
    Yet,
why should I even speak to Countess Rivendon, Baroness Cartwright or
whatever she calls herself nowadays? I have no interest in that
family. I only want to get rid of my belligerent obsession with her
daughter. I can't walk up to her and say “Lady Such or Such, I keep
having this dream of your beloved virgin daughter riding me astride.
There's apple pie involved, too. What's to be done?”
    He
felt the blood rush into his face as his thoughts lingered on the
images of that particular dream. Maybe he had been ill that day at
the stable. Maybe it had been a fever.
    Whatever
it had been, he would find out and soon.
     
     
     
     
     

    3.
     
     
     
    Bond
Street, London, April 1821
     
    The
Honourable Eugenia Cartwright demurely kept her eyes down as she
walked along Bond Street, accompanied by her mother, her aunt and
several maids. After two weeks of the London season she felt
exhausted. The older women had dragged her from one ball to the next,
constantly robing and disrobing her, bedecking her with necklaces,
scarves and hats.
    Growing
up on a small estate in Yorkshire had been a tranquil experience.
Gigi’s parents had never entertained more than a dozen of close
friends.
    In
London everything was strenuous and loud.
    She
wanted to go home but her mother would not let her. A girl had to be
introduced into society properly, she had said. And that was that.
    In
her youth, Gigi's mother had been quite an important member of the ton , but these days Mary Cartwright, formerly the Countess
Rivendon, hardly ever travelled to London and preferred to stay with
Eugenia's father, who was over sixty-five years of age and hated
polite society with a vengeance. “Puffed up old tarts!” he'd call
the ladies at Almack's.
    The
debutantes were all decidedly boring and Gigi felt that she simply
did not fit in.
    The
young men she had met were very charming but somehow refrained from
real conversation. They almost recoiled when she tried to converse
with them about their dogs or their horses or, God forbid ,
literature, philosophy or politics!
    Her
aunt, Lady Tarly, had warned her not to sound like a bluestocking –
a word of which Eugenia had never heard before. Lady Tarly had
advised her to speak only of thinks suitable for an unmarried girl,
such as balls, drawing, music and what?
    Well,
nothing.
    Yes,
Eugenia could sing, draw and dance, but she did not enjoy talking
about it. She wished to know more about the world, about science and
history, about far away places, about life!
    Once
she had overheard her aunt complaining to Lady Cartwright that she
had let Eugenia get away with strange ideas. Nobody would marry a
girl like her. She was very pretty, certainly, but so were many other
debutantes who were less... well, less like Eugenia.
    London
life was not for her, Gigi had decided.
    Above
all she missed the company of her truest friend. Mr. Wimple. Nobody
could listen to her as patiently as he could. Nobody was as wonderful
a companion for picnics in the beautiful Yorkshire countryside.
    Oh,
my Mr. Wimple. I miss you.
    There
was not even anything remotely interesting in her aunt’s library
either.
    She did enjoy the classics
but most of all she loved adventure novels.
    Her
mother owned hundreds of them---but pretended not to.
    Whenever
Gigi could, she nicked one of them and dwelled within the magical
world of suspense and love.
    “ Why,
let's have a look at that little bookshop!” her mother cried out as
if she had heard her daughter's thoughts.
    Lady
Tarly turned her eyes to the heavens but followed her sister-in-law
without complaining.
    Gigi
felt her spirits rise. She quickly stepped into the shop and there
they were! Shelves full of books, shining and new! What new
adventures would they uncover?
    Gigi's
mother began to converse with the shopkeeper who updated her on
recent