The Duke of Snow and Apples Read Free Page B

They—”
    “I beg your pardon,” Aunt Hildy interrupted with a smooth smile. “Really, Margaret, control yourself. You’ll have nothing left to crusade about at dinner, and you know how I loathe empty dinner conversation.”
    Lady Alderley grinned crookedly. “I’m only testing the girl, Hildegarde. If she doesn’t run screaming back to her papa now, she should manage for the rest of the week.” Eying Charlotte, she winked.
    The tiny, grandmotherly lady came forward and took Charlotte’s hand, pressing it between her own. She smelled of violets.
    “May I introduce you to Lady Edwina Colton, Dowager Countess of Enshaw.”
    “Lady Enshaw ?” Charlotte blurted. “The lady composer?”
    “The very same, the very same,” said Lady Enshaw. She laughed, a high tinkle like the sound of a wind chime. “It’s a pleasure, a very great pleasure indeed. Lady Balrumple has told me so much about you. I love the glamour you cast on your hair.”
    “I haven’t cast a glamour.”
    “Oh no?” Lady Enshaw’s features drooped in confusion. “Aren’t you normally golden-haired?”
    “Perhaps you are thinking of my sister Sylvia.”
    “You’re not Sylvia?”
    “No, this is Charlotte ,” Aunt Hildy said.
    “Oh!” Lady Enshaw blushed a dusty shade of rose. “I must beg your pardon. I tend to forget things sometimes.”
    “ Some times?” said Lady Alderley. “You’d forget your hands were your own if you didn’t need them to play the pianoforte.”
    Aunt Hildy turned to Charlotte. “As you can see, we Diamonds are a formidable group, and you’ve only met a few of us.” She gestured at Charlotte and the two other Dowagers to sit and then rang for tea.
    “Who else is a member?” Charlotte asked, settling down in a chair.
    “Lady Alice Marchester is one, but she is currently staying with her son and daughter-in-law in Panneth. She says the waters are good for her health.”
    Charlotte stared blankly.
    Lady Alderley sniffed in disapproval. “She’s Alistair Marshford.”
    “The novelist? But I love his novels! Her novels,” Charlotte corrected herself.
    “I suppose they are diverting enough, if one wants to read something purely fanciful and isn’t looking for anything in the way of mental improvement,” said Lady Alderley coldly.
    “We also count Lady Amelia Dor, Viscountess Noxley among our number,” Aunt Hildy cut in. “The glamourist. She’s in hiding,” she added.
    “From whom?”
    “Her son,” said Lady Alderley, “and his debts.”
    Before Charlotte could let this soak in, a deep, shuddering blast echoed from the southwest corner of the house, causing the windows to rattle delicately in their frames. “What was that?”
    “Lady Anne Oswald, Dowager Countess of Leighwood,” Aunt Hildy replied. “Sounds like another failure, poor woman. She’s been working on that potion formula for weeks.”
    Charlotte uncurled her fingers from the arms of her chair. “And this is normal?”
    “Oh indeed,” said Lady Enshaw. “If anyone was hurt, we’ll probably hear about it soon, but she’s usually very careful.”
    “What…?” Charlotte sorted through the myriad exclamations that warred for dominance in her mind. “What is it that the Seven Dowagers do , exactly?”
    Aunt Hildy spread her hands. “We create. We sing, we write, we cast magic. Whatever we like, I suppose. I simply provide the haven these women can do it in.”
    A knock on the door sounded, and the tea arrived. Lady Alderley poured herself a generous cup, ignoring the milk and sugar. “None of us live the lives that are… expected of women. But our children are grown, and our aristocratic responsibilities have dwindled, so we come here to Charmant Park, as often as we can, to pursue those arts that have always inspired us. Here, there is peace.” A muffled, smaller boom sounded, followed by a frustrated yelp. “Of a sort.”
    “Except for the occasional lavish affair put on to entertain our families and distract them