world.’
‘The way you talk, Lord Chesterholm—’ Mrs Blandish’s turban quivered with disapproval ‘—one might think Miss Sibson was dead when she stands before us, breathing and in good health. It would be monstrous to spread a tale like that about anyone.’
Jonathon’s gaze travelled slowly down Louisa’s form, his eyes lingering on her curves. His smile increased, becoming that special smile, the one which he had always given her just before kissing her. ‘No, I agree she is very much alive. I had been wrongly informed.’
‘And you are pleased with that,’ Miss Daphne said.
‘Did I ever say I wasn’t?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Simply surprised to discover the fact. It would appear I put my trust in the wrong people.’
‘The notions some people entertain without bothering to check the facts.’ Louisa clenched her reticule. She looked forward to seeing Jonathon’s arrogant expression replaced with abject begging. And for each barb he sent her way, she’d make him beg a little longer.
‘Are we going to discuss cooking utensils now, Miss Sibson?’ He gave a slight flourish with his hand, daring her.
‘Is that a pile of stones I see beside you, Lord Chesterholm? What is the state of your soul?’
‘Utensils, stones and souls? I fear I cannot follow thisconversation,’ Miss Blandish declared with a slight pout and shake of her golden curls.
‘Honestly, Susan.’ Miss Nella rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘A pot calling a kettle black. And from the Bible about someone without sin casting the first stone. Miss Sibson and Lord Chesterholm are having the most interesting quarrel. Now do be quiet and you might learn things.’
‘It is a long-standing argument,’ Louisa said quickly.
‘Miss Sibson and I used to enjoy such arguments,’ Jonathon said with a teasing glint in his eye. ‘She was quite notorious for her skill with … words.’
‘Miss Sibson was renowned for her wit in Sorrento as well,’ Lord Furniss said, hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat. ‘For my part, I always think of the right words precisely five minutes after I have left a gathering.’
‘My poor tongue is feeble compared to the late Matilda Elliot’s.’ Louisa ducked her head as her insides churned. She had been wrong to give in to that impulse.
‘Come, come, Miss Sibson, false modesty does you few favours,’ Jonathon said. ‘Your remarks were often repeated when you were in my stepmother’s employ.’
Louisa fought against a tide of red heat that threatened to engulf her face and banished it. It was up to her whether or not Jonathon discomforted her. Her choice, not his. She gulped a breath of air and met his gaze full on. ‘I rarely think about that time. It was far from the happiest period in my life.’
‘Indeed.’ His eyes became glacial ice. ‘It is always pleasant to discover the truth of the situation. I regret that you spent one moment of unhappiness.’
Quietly Louisa consigned Jonathon Fanshaw to the hottest room in Hell. He regretted nothing. He had come here to torment her. He probably intended to make it his mission in life. Well, he’d learn that the new Louisa played by a different set of rules. ‘It was a long time ago. I have put it from my mind.’
Jonathon lifted an eyebrow, as if he were inviting the next round. Louisa gave a slight shake of her head and turned her body towards Lord Furniss.
‘What do you think of Newcastle, Lord Furniss? Does it meet with your expectations?’
‘Very much so.’ Lord Furniss made a low bow towards her. ‘The day is brighter for having seen you and my aunt.’
Jonathon began to rapidly speak of the latest John Martin exhibition in London to Mrs Blandish, asking Lord Furniss to comment as he had seen it.
‘The discussion about John Martin should divert their attention,’ Jonathon’s low voice rumbled in her ear. ‘It is a topic of conversation to keep everyone entertained, but not you, I think. You never did care for
‘The way you talk, Lord Chesterholm—’ Mrs Blandish’s turban quivered with disapproval ‘—one might think Miss Sibson was dead when she stands before us, breathing and in good health. It would be monstrous to spread a tale like that about anyone.’
Jonathon’s gaze travelled slowly down Louisa’s form, his eyes lingering on her curves. His smile increased, becoming that special smile, the one which he had always given her just before kissing her. ‘No, I agree she is very much alive. I had been wrongly informed.’
‘And you are pleased with that,’ Miss Daphne said.
‘Did I ever say I wasn’t?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Simply surprised to discover the fact. It would appear I put my trust in the wrong people.’
‘The notions some people entertain without bothering to check the facts.’ Louisa clenched her reticule. She looked forward to seeing Jonathon’s arrogant expression replaced with abject begging. And for each barb he sent her way, she’d make him beg a little longer.
‘Are we going to discuss cooking utensils now, Miss Sibson?’ He gave a slight flourish with his hand, daring her.
‘Is that a pile of stones I see beside you, Lord Chesterholm? What is the state of your soul?’
‘Utensils, stones and souls? I fear I cannot follow thisconversation,’ Miss Blandish declared with a slight pout and shake of her golden curls.
‘Honestly, Susan.’ Miss Nella rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘A pot calling a kettle black. And from the Bible about someone without sin casting the first stone. Miss Sibson and Lord Chesterholm are having the most interesting quarrel. Now do be quiet and you might learn things.’
‘It is a long-standing argument,’ Louisa said quickly.
‘Miss Sibson and I used to enjoy such arguments,’ Jonathon said with a teasing glint in his eye. ‘She was quite notorious for her skill with … words.’
‘Miss Sibson was renowned for her wit in Sorrento as well,’ Lord Furniss said, hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat. ‘For my part, I always think of the right words precisely five minutes after I have left a gathering.’
‘My poor tongue is feeble compared to the late Matilda Elliot’s.’ Louisa ducked her head as her insides churned. She had been wrong to give in to that impulse.
‘Come, come, Miss Sibson, false modesty does you few favours,’ Jonathon said. ‘Your remarks were often repeated when you were in my stepmother’s employ.’
Louisa fought against a tide of red heat that threatened to engulf her face and banished it. It was up to her whether or not Jonathon discomforted her. Her choice, not his. She gulped a breath of air and met his gaze full on. ‘I rarely think about that time. It was far from the happiest period in my life.’
‘Indeed.’ His eyes became glacial ice. ‘It is always pleasant to discover the truth of the situation. I regret that you spent one moment of unhappiness.’
Quietly Louisa consigned Jonathon Fanshaw to the hottest room in Hell. He regretted nothing. He had come here to torment her. He probably intended to make it his mission in life. Well, he’d learn that the new Louisa played by a different set of rules. ‘It was a long time ago. I have put it from my mind.’
Jonathon lifted an eyebrow, as if he were inviting the next round. Louisa gave a slight shake of her head and turned her body towards Lord Furniss.
‘What do you think of Newcastle, Lord Furniss? Does it meet with your expectations?’
‘Very much so.’ Lord Furniss made a low bow towards her. ‘The day is brighter for having seen you and my aunt.’
Jonathon began to rapidly speak of the latest John Martin exhibition in London to Mrs Blandish, asking Lord Furniss to comment as he had seen it.
‘The discussion about John Martin should divert their attention,’ Jonathon’s low voice rumbled in her ear. ‘It is a topic of conversation to keep everyone entertained, but not you, I think. You never did care for
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