“Is there a reason you are drinking from one of Her Grace’s teacups?” Mr. Reeves’s disapproving tone jolted Adrian from his thoughts. He hastily lowered the teacup.
“I . . . I had a coughing fit, Mr. Reeves. Her Grace invited me to drink so that it might relieve it.”
Mr. Reeves raised a dark brow, his hazel eyes quite severe and his expression most stern. “I suggest you take that down to the kitchen at once and have it washed. Then have Mrs. Webster make you tea in a more appropriate cup.”
“Yes, sir.” Adrian left his position outside the drawing room, but Mr. Reeves’s admonishment was already forgotten. He was lost in dreams of that lovely young woman. He hadn’t been able to avoid overhearing the duchess and her guests’ conversation. The older woman, the Dowager Countess of Latham, was
