An Extraordinary Flirtation by Maggie MacKeever Page A

as to say Ianthe looked jaundiced, but in all those varying shades of yellow she did bear more than a passing resemblance to a primrose.
    He hurried forward. Too late to repair tonight’s damage, alas, but it was clearly incumbent upon him to offer several words to the wise. How most diplomatically to phrase it? “Delicate colors require to be supported and enlivened, and therefore are best relieved by contrast,” perhaps. No, Ianthe had already demonstrated herself entirely too susceptible to contrast. Perhaps a reference to the relationship of the fundamental keynote to the series of other sounds constituting a musical chord.
    Zoe placed herself in Lord Mannering’s path, cutting him off as neatly from the others as an American cowboy with a steer. He looked at her quizzically. Very much a creature of impulse, Zoe dimpled and went straight to the point. “I know I shouldn’t ask you this, Lord Mannering, but why haven’t you married? Aren’t you concerned that you should get yourself an heir while you still can?”
    The chit really was appallingly rag-mannered, as well as highly conceited to think she would be forgiven anything in a society where all other hopeful misses behaved just so. “Young ladies aren’t supposed to talk about such things,” said Nick. “As you know very well. But to satisfy your curiosity, since you didgo so far as to ask: I already have an heir, my nephew Colin, with whom I’m quite content. He is at Oxford now. Perhaps you would like to meet him? Colin is an amiable fellow, and agile enough to get down on his knees and spout all sorts of nonsense.”
    Zoe chose to overlook this unchivalrous attitude. “I’ve shocked you,” she said.
    Had she known what it would take to truly shock him, Miss Loversall might have been shocked herself. She really was the most outrageous child, fluttering those long lashes at him, her lips drawn into a luscious pout.
    Her voice had dropped almost an entire octave. Nick said solicitously, “Are you taking a chill? Such a pity. I was going to ask if you wished to accompany me onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air.”
    Zoe wished very much to go out onto the balcony with Lord Mannering. Perhaps he would attempt to seduce her there. “It's nothing!” she said hastily, in her normal voice. “I merely had a lump in my throat. And yes, I would like a breath of fresh air, for it is so very close in here.”
    Lord Mannering was all solicitude. “No, no, my dear Miss Loversall. You must not be so reckless. Just because I have my heir doesn’t mean that you should take chances with your health.”
    Dubiously, Zoe regarded him. Was the marquess making fun of her? Perhaps it was time for a change of subject. “I thought perhaps you would not—” And then she broke off and very nearly stamped her foot. Instead of paying attention to her, Lord Mannering was intent on her family and his friend.
    Ianthe was twinkling at Fitz. “I’ve disappointed you, Baron. I fear I’m not in the habit of thinking much about my dress. But now I shall remember what you’ve told me, and when next we meet you will see that I am a veritable symphony.”
    Fitz flushed. “I didn’t mean—”
    “Nor did I!” Ianthe said quickly. “I was just teasing you a little bit. Allow me to make you known to my family. My niece, you have already met. This is my cousin Cara, Lady Norwood.”
    Fitz tried hard not to stare. Lady Norwood was even more goddess-like at close range, tall and lush and glorious, with a bosom that beggared description, and a pair of sparkling sapphire eyes. Somewhat jerkily, he bowed. When he straightened up, she was still studying him, with an expression that was both amused and oddly kind. “Peonies,” she said.
    He blinked. She laughed. “Forgive me, Baron Fitzrichard. I have been so long out of Society that I’ve gotten in the habit of saying what I think. Your waistcoat reminded me of my garden. I miss it very much. Are you aware of the