"Turnips?" he echoed.
She nodded emphatically. "Turnips. Some find them dull, rather bland, really, but a more fascinating tuber you'll never find."
James glanced right and left, looking for a means of escape. What the devil was this girl talking about?
“Have you ever grown turnips?''
"Ah… no, I haven't."
"That's a pity," she said with great feeling. "One can learn quite a lot about life from a turnip."
James's head fell a little forward in disbelief. This he had to hear. "Really? And what, pray tell, can one learn?"
"Uh…"
He knew it. She was bamming him. What was she up to? He smiled innocently. “You were saying?''
"Diligence!" she blurted out. "One can learn a great deal about diligence."
"Really? How is that?"
She sighed dramatically. “Mr. Siddons, if you have to ask, then I'm afraid you would never understand."
While James was trying to digest that statement, she chirped, “Oh, look, here we are back at Danbury House. Please tell Lady Danbury that I will be in the rose garden should she need me."
And then, without so much as a farewell, she ran off.
James just stood there for a moment, trying to make sense of what had to be the most bizarre conversation of his life. And that's when he noticed it-her shadow, hanging alongside the building.
Rose garden, his foot. The blasted chit was lurking around the corner, still spying on him. He'd find out what she was up to if it was the last thing he did.
Ten hours later, Elizabeth dragged her weary feet through the front door of the Hotchkiss cottage. Susan was, not surprisingly, waiting on the bottom step of the stairs, HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS still clutched in her hand.
"What happened?" Susan exclaimed, bounding to her feet. "Tell me everything!"
Elizabeth fought the urge to collapse in a fit of mortified laughter. "Oh, Susan," she said with a slow shake of her head. "We've mastered Edict Number One. He definitely thinks I'm unique."
Chapter 4
“Isn't it a beautiful day?"
Elizabeth looked across the breakfast table at her sister's merry visage. Susan's smile was outshone only by the sun, which promised yet another day of uncommonly good weather.
"Isn't it?" Susan persisted.
Elizabeth just ignored her and continued to stab her muffin with a knife.
"If you're not going to eat that, may I have it?" Lucas asked.
Elizabeth started to push her plate across the table.
"Wait! I'd like some more, too," Jane chimed.
Elizabeth pulled the plate back, split the brutalized muffin remains in two, and pushed it back out.
"You're rather grumpy this morning," Jane said as she grabbed her share.
"Yes. Yes, I am."
As if choreographed, all three younger Hotchkisses drew back and exchanged glances. It was rare for Elizabeth to be struck with ill temper, but when she was…
"I believe I shall go out and play," Lucas said, standing up so fast he knocked his chair over.
"And I believe I shall join you," Jane said, shoving the rest of the muffin in her mouth.
The two children dashed out through the kitchen door. Elizabeth leveled a rather insolent stare in Susan's direction.
"I'm not going anywhere," Susan said. "We have too much to discuss."
“Perhaps you noticed that I am not in a conversational mood?" Elizabeth picked up her tea and took a sip. It was lukewarm. She set it back down and got up to put more water on the stove.
Yesterday had been a total fiasco. Utter disaster. What had she been thinking? She was supposed to have been practicing her social skills and instead she'd been prattling on about turnips.
Turnips!
She hated turnips.
She'd tried to tell herself that she'd had no choice. There was more to Mr. Siddons than met the eye, and he'd clearly been playing some game of his own with her. But turnips? Why did she have to pick turnips? And why had she said they had something to do with diligence? Good Lord, how was she ever to explain that?
He had probably told all of Danbury House about her bizarre fascination with root vegetables. By the time she arrived at work that morning, the story would have probably circulated from the stables to the kitchen and back. Everyone would be laughing at her. And while she didn't much mind the loss of Mr. Siddons as a "pretend marquis," she was going to have to work with the man for months-maybe years!-to come. And he probably thought she was insane.
Elizabeth took a step toward the stairs. "I'm going to be sick."
"Oh, no, you don't!" Susan exclaimed, skidding around the table and grabbing Elizabeth's arm. "You are going to Danbury House this morning if it kills you."
"It is killing me. Trust me."
Susan planted her free hand on her hip. "I've never known you to be a coward, Elizabeth Hotchkiss."
Elizabeth wrenched her arm free and glared at her sister. "I'm not a coward. I just know when a battle is unwinnable. And believe me, this one has Waterloo written all over it."
"We won at Waterloo," Susan pointed out with a smirk.
"Pretend we're French," Elizabeth snapped. "I'm telling you, Mr. Siddons is not a good choice."
"What's wrong with him?"
"What's wrong with him? What's wrong with him?" Elizabeth's voice rose with frustration. "There's nothing wrong with him. Everything is wrong with him."
Susan scratched her head. "Perhaps it is my tender years, or perhaps my brain is not as fully developed as yours-"
"Oh, please, Susan."
"-but I have no earthly idea what you're talking about. If there is nothing wrong with the man-''
"The man is dangerous. He was playing games with me."
"Are you certain?"
"He has seduced hundreds of women. I'm sure of it."
"An estate manager?" Susan asked dubiously. "Aren't they usually short and fat?"
"This one is handsome as sin. He-"
"Handsome as sin? Really?" Susan's eyes grew wide. "What does he look like?"
Elizabeth paused, trying not to blush as Mr. Siddons's face floated in her mind. What was it about that man that was so compelling? Something about his mouth, perhaps.
His finely molded lips had the tendency to curve ever so slightly, as if they held the key to a secret joke. But then again, maybe it was his eyes. They were a rather regular shade of brown, the same color as his hair, actually, and should have seemed ordinary, but they were so deep, and when he looked at her, she felt…
"Elizabeth?"
Hot. She felt hot.
"Elizabeth?"
"What?" she asked distractedly.
"What does he look like?"
"Oh. He-oh, goodness, how am I supposed to describe him? He looks like a man."
"How descriptive," Susan said in a droll tone. "Remind me never to advise you to seek work as a novelist."
“I couldn't possibly make up a story any more ridiculous than the one I'm living right now."
Susan sobered. “Is it really as bad as that?''
"Yes," Elizabeth said with a sigh that was two parts frustration and one part irritation, "it is. We are almost completely out of the money Father left, and my wages from Lady Danbury are not nearly enough to support us- especially once the lease on the cottage runs out. I have to marry, but the only available man in the district besides Squire Nevins is Lady D's new estate manager, and he, aside from being far too handsome and dangerous and thinking that I am completely insane, couldn't possibly earn enough to qualify as a suitable candidate. So I ask you," she added, her voice rising in pitch and volume, "since you've already pointed out that I am not going to make a fortune publishing my letters, what do you propose I do?"
She crossed her arms, rather pleased with her speech.
Susan merely blinked and asked, "Why does he think you're insane?"
"It doesn't matter," Elizabeth ground. "What matters is that I am in a complete bind."
"As it happens," Susan said with a slow, deep smile, "I have the answer."
Elizabeth saw her sister reach behind her back for something and felt anger explode within her. "Oh, no, don't you even dare to pull that book out again."