My Last Duchess, стр. 58
Philippa’s eyes met Kate’s, and Philippa said hastily, “I’ll just walk Jonas in the corridor until he calms, shall I?”
“Yes, do,” the elderly princess said. “He sounds like one of the devils they like to talk about in church, the kind who havenothing to do but yowl. Wick, why aren’t you offering us something to drink? Just because Rome is burning doesn’t mean weneedn’t fiddle. This screeching is terrible for my nerves.”
Philippa settled Jonas into the crook of her left arm and nodded to the footman, who opened the door for her.
In the hallway, Jonas waved his tiny clenched fists and wailed. He was pulling up his legs again, so his stomach must be aching.Philippa settled him on her shoulder and patted his back gently as she walked.
If Mr. Berwick insisted on summoning her uncle, it would all be over. Her father would arrive within hours, and she wouldend up back in Little Ha’penny, married to Rodney. Jonas let out a big burp.
“You have a lot of air in your tummy,” Philippa said. He was still crying, but he sounded more halfhearted about it. Anotherbig burp erupted from his stomach.
She kept walking, up and down, worrying at the problem of her uncle, her father, Rodney, Jonas, colic . . . what if she waswrong? If it was intussusception, her uncle would say there was nothing to be done. But . . .
Finally, the door to the dining room opened, and Kate emerged. “Bless you,” she said, taking the baby. The moment he cameoff Philippa’s shoulder, he screwed up his face and cried even louder.
“Hush, sweet one,” Kate crooned.
“Try your shoulder,” Philippa said. “Like this.” She arranged the baby so he was lying over his mother’s shoulder.
“But his head is hanging down. All the blood will go to his head.”
“This way feels better for his stomach. Listen.” Sure enough, his crying did not cease, but the wails weren’t quite so desperate.
“Go eat something,” Kate said, nodding toward the door. “We’ve worked it out. Gabriel is coming to take a turn in half anhour, and then Wick will take a turn.”
Philippa nodded. “And then Princess Sophonisba, I expect?”
Kate blinked. “Well—” She caught Philippa’s smirk and grinned. “Go eat!”
Philippa returned to the dining room to find the prince seated at the head of the table, and Wick at its foot. She hesitatedfor a moment, uncertain where to sit.
A footman stepped forward. “Miss Damson,” he murmured, pulling out the chair next to Wick.
Two slender silver candelabra threw light on the silk damask covering, the gold-plated dishes, and a greater assortment ofcutlery than she knew existed. For a moment, Philippa felt dizzy. Was it really only yesterday that she had been lying inthe straw under Rodney?
Could it really be her, sitting in a castle, eating with royalty? She didn’t dare look to her right, at Wick, or even moreterrifying, to her left, at the prince himself.
Across from her, Princess Sophonisba sucked vigorously at the chicken bone she clutched. “You’re pretty enough, but you looklike a bit of a goose,” the old lady said. “Haven’t you ever been in a castle before?”
“No, I haven’t, Your Highness,” she said, picking up her napkin and spreading it in her lap.
“Most people in this one are dim as a snuffed candle,” Sophonisba said. “In fact, one castle is the same as another. The lotof them sit around buggering each other, if not the sheep.”
The prince cleared his throat and leaned forward, giving Philippa a charming smile. A smile she recognized from his—
Brother? They looked almost identical, which couldn’t be accidental.
“You seem to have performed miracles already with Jonas,” he said. “I don’t know how we’ll be able to thank you.”
“Give her a gold chastity belt, I’d think,” Princess Sophonisba said. “The way your brother’s looking at her, she’ll be droppinga bastard in a matter of nine months.”
So Wick was the prince’s brother. No wonder they looked so much alike.
The prince closed his eyes for a moment. “I apologize—”
The princess talked right over His Highness. “Actually, that’s just what we need around here. More bastards. Look at Berwick,here.”
Philippa didn’t dare look. She could feel him sitting next to her, could feel his large body, his eyes resting on her.
“Look at him!” the princess ordered.
Philippa looked.
To her relief, he was grinning, his eyes alight with a deep pleasure that sent little shocks down her spine.
“A bastard,” the princess said with satisfaction, licking her fingers. “And yet he’s the best of the lot. My favorite, andI’m a judge of men. Always have been, ever since I dumped my barking-mad betrothed and decided never to marry.”
Philippa felt a smile playing on her lips as well.
“You may be in a castle, among royalty of sorts,” Prince Gabriel remarked from the other end of the table, “but I’m afraidyou’ll find, Miss Damson, that we descend to the lowest type of behavior while in private.”
“Speak for yourself,” the irrepressible princess retorted. “I’ve no wish to know what sort of roguery you get up to in private.Ain’t a fit subject for the dinner table. Watch your manners!” And with that, she poked him in the chest with the chickenleg.
Philippa felt giggles rising in her throat. A footman leaned down beside her and gave her a portion of roast beef.
“If you want your own drumstick, I can request one,” Wick said. His voice was deep and husky, as different from Rodney’s aswine from water. And there was that enchanting accent, the one that made her a little breathless.
“No, thank you,” she said, pulling herself together. To her relief, the prince had engaged his aunt in a discussion of EmperorNapoleon’s height.
“Small as a flea,” the princess said scornfully. “And his eyebrows jut out like the casements of a shop window.”
“I suppose you will have gathered by now that my