Devils Bride

Начало книги

"The duchess is so very… very… well, really, most charming. So…" With an angelic smile, Mr. Postlethwaite, the vicar of Somersham, gestured airily. "Continental, if you take my meaning."

Standing by the vicarage gate while she waited for the gig to be brought around, Honoria Wetherby only wished she could. Wringing information from the local vicar was always one of her first actions on taking up a new position; unfortunately, while her need for information was more acute than usual, Mr. Postlethwaite's comments were unhelpfully vague. She nodded encouragingly-and pounced on the one point which might conceivably mean something. "Is the duchess foreign-born?"

"Dowager Duchess." Mr. Postlethwaite beamed. "She likes to be called that now. But foreign?" Head to one side, he considered the point. "I suppose some might call her so-she was French-born and -bred. But she's been amongst us so long, she seems a part of our landscape. Indeed"-his eyes brightened-"she's something of a feature on our limited horizon."

Читать дальше →