Free The Perks of Being a Beauty by Manda Collins Page A

to one’s hair!”
    In spite of herself, Amelia felt a giggle threaten to escape her. Quentin, the devil, seemed to guess it too, for he continued to Harriet, “I do understand, Miss Smithson. Gardening can disorder one’s hair quite a bit. And one’s clothing as well.”
    “Yes!” Harriet agreed, smiling with genuine pleasure. “My lord, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate finding someone who understands my reluctance to garden.”
    “Well, I might understand, Miss Smithson,” Quentin said with a bland expression, “but I cannot say that I agree. Why I love nothing more than digging beneath the layers to find out just what lies beneath. I know I’ve found some real beauties that way.”
    “I had no idea you were so interested in what goes on in the greenhouse, old fellow,” Mr. Wallace said with surprise. “Never thought a duke’s son would dirty his hands like that. I told Wilkes you was a good ’un.”
    “A good ’un, indeed,” Amelia said, rolling her eyes. “If only they knew, my lord, just how much you like … er … dirtying your hands.”
    “If only,” Quentin said, grinning. “I daresay they’d be surprised to find how much they enjoy doing so themselves with their own … uh … gardening companions, that is.”
    “Naturally,” Amelia agreed.
    “I cannot imagine why you find the topic of gardening so amusing,” Miss Fotheringham said, from her position in the arms of Mr. Carstairs. “I can imagine nothing as plebian as digging around in soil. It’s so … low.”
    Amelia supposed that Miss Fotheringham had missed the part of the conversation where Harriet mentioned that her mother enjoyed gardening. At least, she hoped that was the only reason why the girl would insult her hostess in such a way.
    Before Amelia, or even Harriet, could correct the other girl, however, Quentin jumped in. “My father quite agrees with you, Miss Fotheringham,” he said with a chuckle.
    The snobbish young lady opened her mouth to praise the duke, but Quentin continued, “In fact, he is constantly trying to convince my mother to leave off her habit of rose gardening. Though I suppose doing what you please is what comes of being the daughter of a duke who then marries a duke.” He laughed and everyone but Miss Fotheringham joined in.
    “It’s all very well for a duchess to declare such a pastime to be acceptable, but people in the merchant class cannot afford such luxuries,” she pressed on. “Why, how are they ever to raise themselves if they continue to labor like peasants?”
    “Perhaps you should say as much to our hostess,” Amelia suggested sweetly. “For I suspect she would tear down her greenhouse should she realize just how much it endangers her family’s position in society.”
    At the mention of Mrs. Smithson’s greenhouse, Miss Fotheringham finally got the point. “Oh,” she said, color rising in her face. “I didn’t know.”
    “Which is why you should not make pronouncements about what is and is not acceptable behavior in others,” Amelia said quietly. “I find it best to keep one’s pronouncements to one’s own behavior. It’s much less dangerous.”
    Rather than thank her for the bit of advice, Miss Fotheringham’s eyes narrowed as she scowled at Amelia.
    “I think you might have made an enemy there,” Quentin said in a low voice only she could hear.
    “It matters not,” Amelia said quietly. “I have already decided that she is an enemy I am quite comfortable in making.”
    Quickly she told him about the little housemaid, Mary, and Miss Fotheringham’s treatment of her.
    Quentin swore under his breath. “I might have guessed she’d be the sort to mistreat the servants. Social climbers are the quickest to pass judgment, and the most likely to prove their superiority through cruelty.”
    “I fear you are correct,” Amelia said, watching as the dance ended and Miss Fotheringham pulled away from Mr. Carstairs and rushed from the room.
    She feared that Miss