Free Sylvester by Georgette Heyer Page B

as meek as her conversation was insipid. He said, rather doubtfully: ‘You don’t think, if you were to write to him, Lord Marlow would put the Duke off?’
    ‘You know what Papa is!’ she said simply. ‘He will always allow himself to be ruled by Mama, because he can’t bear to be made uncomfortable. Besides, how could I get a letter to him without Mama’s knowing of it?’
    He considered for a few moments, frowning. ‘No. Well—You are quite sure you can’t like the Duke? I mean, I should have supposed anything to be better than to continue living at Austerby. Besides, you said yourself you only once talked to him. You don’t really know anything about him. I daresay he may be rather shy, and that, you know, might easily make him appear stiff.’
    ‘He is not shy and he is not stiff,’ stated Phoebe. ‘His manners are assured; he says everything that is civil because he places himself on so high a form that he would think it unworthy of himself to treat anyone with anything but cool courtesy; and because he knows his consequence to be so great he cares nothing for what anyone may think of him.’
    ‘You did take him in dislike, didn’t you?’ said Tom, grinning at her.
    ‘Yes, I did! But even if I had not, how could I accept an offer from him when I made him the villain in my story?’
    That made Tom laugh. ‘Well, you needn’t tell him that, you goose!’
    ‘Tell him! He won’t need telling! I described him exactly !’
    ‘But, Phoebe, you don’t suppose he will read your book, do you?’ said Tom.
    Phoebe could support with equanimity disparagement of her person, but this slight cast on her first novel made her exclaim indignantly: ‘Pray, why should he not read it? It is going to be published !’
    ‘Yes, I know, but you can’t suppose that people like Salford will buy it.’
    ‘Then who will?’ demanded Phoebe, rather flushed.
    ‘Oh, I don’t know! Girls, I daresay, who like that sort of thing.’
    ‘You liked it well enough!’ she reminded him.
    ‘Yes, but that was because it was so odd to think of your having written it,’ explained Tom. He saw that she was looking mortified, and added consolingly: ‘But I’m not bookish, you know, so I daresay it’s very fine, and will sell a great many copies. The thing is that no one will know who wrote it, so there’s no need to tease yourself over that .When does the Duke come to Austerby?’
    ‘Next week. It is given out that he is coming to try the young chestnut. He is going to hunt too, and now Mama is trying to decide whether to dish up all our friends to entertain him at a dinner-party, or to leave it to Papa to invite Sir Gregory Standish and old Mr Hayle for a game of whist.’
    ‘Lord!’ said Tom, in an awed tone.
    Phoebe gave a giggle. ‘ That will teach him to come to Austerby in this odious, condescending way!’ she observed, with satisfaction. ‘What is more, Mama does not approve of newfangled fashions, so his grace will find himself sitting down to dinner at six o’clock, which is not at all the style of thing he is accustomed to. And when he comes into the drawing-room after dinner he will discover that Miss Battery has brought Susan and Mary down. And then Mama will call upon me to go to the pianoforte—she has told Sibby already to be sure I know my new piece thoroughly!—and at nine o’clock Firbank will bring in the tea-tray; and at half-past nine she will tell the Duke, in that complacent voice of hers, that we keep early hours in the country; and so he will be left to Papa and piquet, or some such thing. I wish he may be heartily bored!’
    ‘I should think he would be. Perhaps he won’t offer for you after all!’ said Tom.
    ‘How can I dare to indulge that hope, when all his reason for visiting us is to do so?’ demanded Phoebe, sinking back into gloom. ‘His mind must be perfectly made up, for he knows already that I am a dead bore! Oh, Tom, I am trying to take it with composure, but the more I think of