Today I got the kids to school on time. Both of them. I hope boy does well. He needs to make friends. He’s outgoing and sweet, but at the same time, he’s the new kid among kids who’ve known each other for awhile. I think girlie will have it easier and settle in quicker.
I also convinced my computer to talk to my scanner and my scanner to listen. This is progress.
I’ve been in a Jane Austen sort of mood. I wish my books were unpacked.
I suspect it has a little to do with the piece I’m writing, and since I have little else of worth to say today, I’ll leave you with a snippet:
To give Missy and Lord Stanworth a moment to talk, she engaged the Colonel in coversation.
“Tell me, Colonel. You are currently billeted here at The Tower, are you not?”
He bowed. “Indeed I am, Miss Isabeau.”
“How are you liking it? It must be quite a change from your previous duties in America.”
He smiled. “America has its beauties, but I am glad to be back home.”
“A return to coal smoke thick as fog and the wondrous noise and stench of the city—you must be positively delighted,” she said, then flushed. Her stupid tongue! One of these days she was going to have to put a nail in it to keep it from flopping around saying inappropriate things. She must remember to be demure and reserved, and not insult a man’s feelings or his home. She didn’t want to embarrass Lady Phillipa or Missy, nor did she want to be the reason her sister’s chances for a good marriage were ruined.
The colonel focused on her as if he’d not quite seen her before. He lifted a dark brow and smiled, his blue eyes sparking with humor. He was handsome, for a man of thirty. His face was tanned despite the early November weather, and he was quite fit, with broad shoulders, a determined jaw, and an aquiline nose. His smile softened his austere expression.
“Indeed, the air in London is most refreshing, compared to the quite bright beauty of America,” he said. “I cannot tell you how many times I have wished to find myself back in the fetid soup we like to call air. Truly refreshing.”
“I suppose you also had a great many parties and balls to attend in America,” Isa said, unable to stop her perverse tongue.
“Ah yes. War time is such a fertile time for balls. Why, I believe I hardly had a moment to give a single order or run a battle campaign. All my time was spent on silks and laces and learning the latest dances.”
She covered her mouth to prevent a most unladylike burst of laughter. “It’s a wonder you didn’t come back fat and gouty.”
“A wonder,” he agreed. His head tilted as he considered her. “You are a most unexpected young woman, Miss Isabeau.”
“Yes, much to my stepmother’s everlasting despair. I am sadly very poor company.”
“Not at all. I find you quite refreshing.”
She couldn’t help her small snort. “Just like the fetid London soup air.”