Free The Baron and the Bluestocking by G. G. Vandagriff

frowned. “The duke and duchess of Ruisdell.”
    “A duke? My goodness! I am certain I shall enjoy myself then.”
    Shrewsbury made no comment, but turned the horses and headed for Rose House.
    *~*~*
    As Christian prepared for dinner at the duke’s, he remembered with some amusement Miss Whitcombe-Hodge’s favorable impression of his tailoring. I must make certain not to disappoint her on any count!
    His bottle green velvet evening jacket went well with his eyes, and cream linen was preferable to stark white with his golden blond hair. Now, for a waistcoat. He finally selected one of gold silk embroidered in the same color in a fleur de lis pattern. Lathrop ordered his locks in their customary Brutus fashion and added the sole ornamentations of his gold watch and chain, as well as a small gold stickpin embossed with his family crest.
    He smiled, thinking he looked suitably dandyish, and went off to confront the termagant goddess. And Lady Virginia, of course.
    Shearings had long been one of his favorite townhouses. Its entry had double baroque staircases curving to a mezzanine lined with paintings of the Dukes of Ruisdell. Against this background, the duke and duchess greeted him. It appeared to be a large party, which surprised Shrewsbury. Ruisdell must be hoping to attract more patrons for their project. This could only be a good thing.
    In the large midnight blue drawing room—papered to match the duchess’s eyes—he spotted Hélène Whitcombe-Hodge speaking to Lord Donald and Lady Virginia, using greatly exaggerated hand gestures. Approaching the trio, he bade everyone good evening.
    Miss Whitcombe-Hodge appraised him openly. “You look very well tonight, Lord Shrewsbury.”
    “You still approve of my tailor?”
    “He turns you out exceedingly well, I must say.”
    “I hoped you would be pleased,” he said, smiling at her. He turned to Lord Donald and Lady Virginia. “I am happy that you have met one of our teachers. Has she been telling you about the school? I must confess I am interested to find how everything progresses.”
    “All is going swimmingly, it would seem,” Lady Virginia said.
    “Ah, wonderful,” Christian said. “Have you progressed to Voltaire yet, Miss Whitcombe-Hodge?”
    “I am reserving that topic for next week,” she said solemnly.
    Christian felt uncomfortably stirred by her presence. Dash it! Does she exude some kind of magnetic field?
    “Voltaire?” Lord Donald’s brow bunched in confusion.
    “A French philosopher of the Enlightenment,” Lady Whitcombe-Hodge said gently. “Lord Shrewsbury is teasing. He knows I am immensely fond of Voltaire.”
    Christian noted a frown on Lady Virginia’s face. “You disapprove of Voltaire?” he asked.
    “No. No, not at all.” She gave an artificial laugh. “Who could disapprove of Voltaire?”
    “Many Frenchmen, apparently,” Lord Shrewsbury said. “He spent an inordinate amount of time in prison.” Turning to the teacher, he said, “The Duke gave me a splendid account of your teaching methods for the letter ‘ n. ’”
    She raised her chin. “He surprised me. It very nearly put me off my game.”
    Lady Virginia laughed. “A duke is enough to put anyone off one’s game.”
    Suddenly, he wished the pesky woman would go away. He repositioned his shoulder so that he faced the schoolteacher face to face. “I understand your sisters are happily resituated,” he said.
    “In great part, I have you to thank for that, my lord,” Miss Whitcombe-Hodge said with a slight bow of her head. “Thank you.”
    “It was Blakeley as much as me. I had no idea your situation was so dire. Happily, I now understand your concerns for the independence of women in a way that I did not previously. I am giving it more serious thought.”
    She smiled her full, winsome smile, and his heart began knocking against his ribs. “Genteel poverty of females is invisible to most people, my lord. The victims wish it to be. No one of gentle birth wishes to