How to Treat a Lady Read Free Page A

Grandmother Elbert, all musty and old and—”
    â€œWhat?” Sophia’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t smell like Grandma Elbert! It’s the eau de cologne Mother got me last Christmas, and it is very expensive.”
    â€œI don’t know what it cost, but if it was more than a pence, she was sadly cheated.”
    â€œOh!” Sophia said, twisting in her seat to glare at her younger sister. “At least I don’t smell like a sheep, unlike some people I could name who spend all their spare time lingering in the barn as if they were a resident!”
    Ophelia’s chin jutted, her brown eyes flashing behind the round glass of her spectacles. “Just what do you mean by that?”
    Harriet stifled a sigh. There was only one thing worse than driving a smelly hay cart to market, and that was driving a smelly hay cart filled with evensmellier sheep, a large damp-scented dog, and two bickering sisters. “Stop it, the both of you! You’re upsetting the sheep.”
    â€œWhat do the sheep matter?” Sophia asked, momentarily distracted from irking Ophelia.
    â€œThey matter a lot, and you know it. I want our sheep to look like the best, most pleasant-natured sheep on earth.” Anything to get a good price. God knew they needed it.
    Sophia looked over her shoulder and regarded the sheep with a dubious air. “I don’t know how you could tell if they were upset. They all look the same to me. Very woolly and…” She tilted her head. “Perhaps they do look as if they have a mood. But it’s not a good one.”
    â€œNonsense,” Ophelia said stoutly. “They’re happy sheep. You can tell.”
    â€œHow?” Sophia demanded.
    Ophelia regarded the ewes for a moment, then suddenly broke into a huge grin. “Maybe you can tell they’re happy sheep because they don’t feel baaaaad.”
    Harriet winced as the other two giggled uncontrollably. “Ophelia, between you and Derrick, I’ve had more than I can take.” Derrick was their younger brother, and at age sixteen bid fair to become the wittiest of the Ward family, a high honor indeed.
    Sophia adjusted the pretty blue ribbons fastened to her old bonnet. “I’m sorry, Harriet. I shouldn’t laugh, but Ophelia does that so well .”
    Ophelia grinned, twin dimples in her round cheeks. “I do, don’t I? Sorry I made such a baaaaaad joke.”
    One of the sheep in the back of the cart lifted its head and answered.
    Sophia chuckled. “You bleat even better than the sheep.”
    â€œYou have your own gifts,” Ophelia said in return, no sign of her earlier rancor. “You should be on a stage. No one can do Juliet like you.”
    Sophia’s face burned with pleasure. She tilted her pretty face to the sky and placed her hand to her brow. “ What’s here? A cup, closed in my true love’s hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end— ”
    As if in great pain, a sheep bleated loudly while Max the dog shuffled in a circle, obviously anxious to get out of the cart. Ophelia giggled and even Harriet had to stifle a grin.
    Sophia’s face suffused with color. “I was not made for such conditions.”
    â€œNone of us was,” Harriet said dryly, hawing the horse to a trot. “I was not made to drive a smelly hay cart, either.”
    â€œI know what you were made for,” Sophia said with a smug smile. “Captain John Frakenham.”
    Harriet stiffened. “Do not mention that name to me!”
    Sophia and Ophelia exchanged amused glances.
    â€œI don’t want to hear another word,” Harriet said firmly. “And if I do, you’ll walk the rest of the way to town.”
    Ophelia leaned forward to whisper loudly to Sophia. “Harriet is always ill-tempered when Captain Frakenham is not in port.”
    â€œIndeed. She’s pining for him. For his manly arms and his broad