Lord Malmsey. “It would be the polite thing.”
She figured ten seconds in his aging arms would have Amanda begging for introductions to other men.
Lord Malmsey’s eyes widened as they approached, and Juliana saw him swallow hard. Taking pity on the poor fellow, she smiled when they drew near. “Good evening, my lord. Lady Amanda was just telling me she hoped you’d ask her to dance.”
“Very well,” he said.
Amanda said nothing.
The strains of a waltz rose into the air, and the two of them walked off.
Or rather, they shuffled off.
Aunt Frances joined Juliana and watched them dance. “They don’t seem a proper match.”
“No, they don’t,” Juliana agreed. She’d never seen a more awkward couple. Due to Amanda’s height, her eyes came level with his expansive forehead. Neither of them spoke or looked at each other. Lord Malmsey radiated apprehension, Amanda pure misery.
Juliana could not have been more pleased.
On the other side of the ballroom, she spotted Lord Neville ambling out of the refreshment room. “Wait here,” she told Aunt Frances. “I must speak with Viscount Neville, and he’s sure to leave the ball early.” Having no plans to take a fourth wife, Emily’s father preferred to spend his evenings gambling at his club. “I’ll return momentarily.”
Aunt Frances nodded absently, smiling at the dancers whirling past. Juliana patted her dear shoulder and went off to intercept the viscount.
“Lord Neville, if I may speak with you for a moment?”
“Ah, yes, my dear, of course.” Emily’s father was blond and gray-eyed like his daughter, tall and a bit hefty. As he seemed to overindulge in everything, Juliana wasn’t surprised to see a heaping plate in his hand. He popped a grape into his mouth. “What can I do to help you?”
“It’s about Emily—”
“Ah, yes. I do appreciate the interest you’ve taken in my girl.”
“She’s a delight.” Juliana watched him choose a biscuit and devour nearly half in a single bite. “But I’m wondering if I can prevail on you to discourage her from taking Herman out in public. It’s not the thing for a young lady to carry a snake.”
“Ah, yes,” he repeated, plucking three more grapes off the bunch. “But my Emily is very attached to Herman. She and her mother found him in the garden just before my wife died.”
“I’m aware of that, sir. But earlier this week when we visited the shops, a patron at Grafton House fainted dead away at the sight of Emily’s snake.” While that wasn’t precisely true, it could have been true. “If only you’d heard the shrieks of terror, Lord Neville. It wasn’t the sort of scene a young lady should inspire.”
Apparently the viscount found that more amusing than distressing, because he guffawed.
And then he stopped.
In fact, not only had he stopped laughing, it looked as though he’d stopped breathing. The plate dropped from his hand, shattering on the parquet floor as he clutched at his throat and chest. His mouth was open, but he seemed unable to speak. His skin was turning blue.
“Faith!” Juliana exclaimed loudly enough to make the people nearby look over. “Lord Neville, are you all right?”
Clearly he wasn’t.
“Help!” she yelled, moving to thump him on the back, the way people did when someone swallowed the wrong way and went into a coughing fit. But it seemed he couldn’t even cough. His eyes bugged out in his blue face, panicked.
Just then, Griffin ran up with his friend Lord Stafford in tow. “A chair,” Lord Stafford instructed. “Now.”
Griffin rushed to do his bidding. In the meantime, Lord Stafford very quickly—and very calmly, under the circumstances—untied the viscount’s cravat and loosened the buttons at his throat. All the while, he murmured soothing words in his smooth, chocolatey voice.
But Lord Neville didn’t look soothed. In fact, Juliana feared he was running out of time. Lord Stafford didn’t seem to think so, though. Decidedly un
She figured ten seconds in his aging arms would have Amanda begging for introductions to other men.
Lord Malmsey’s eyes widened as they approached, and Juliana saw him swallow hard. Taking pity on the poor fellow, she smiled when they drew near. “Good evening, my lord. Lady Amanda was just telling me she hoped you’d ask her to dance.”
“Very well,” he said.
Amanda said nothing.
The strains of a waltz rose into the air, and the two of them walked off.
Or rather, they shuffled off.
Aunt Frances joined Juliana and watched them dance. “They don’t seem a proper match.”
“No, they don’t,” Juliana agreed. She’d never seen a more awkward couple. Due to Amanda’s height, her eyes came level with his expansive forehead. Neither of them spoke or looked at each other. Lord Malmsey radiated apprehension, Amanda pure misery.
Juliana could not have been more pleased.
On the other side of the ballroom, she spotted Lord Neville ambling out of the refreshment room. “Wait here,” she told Aunt Frances. “I must speak with Viscount Neville, and he’s sure to leave the ball early.” Having no plans to take a fourth wife, Emily’s father preferred to spend his evenings gambling at his club. “I’ll return momentarily.”
Aunt Frances nodded absently, smiling at the dancers whirling past. Juliana patted her dear shoulder and went off to intercept the viscount.
“Lord Neville, if I may speak with you for a moment?”
“Ah, yes, my dear, of course.” Emily’s father was blond and gray-eyed like his daughter, tall and a bit hefty. As he seemed to overindulge in everything, Juliana wasn’t surprised to see a heaping plate in his hand. He popped a grape into his mouth. “What can I do to help you?”
“It’s about Emily—”
“Ah, yes. I do appreciate the interest you’ve taken in my girl.”
“She’s a delight.” Juliana watched him choose a biscuit and devour nearly half in a single bite. “But I’m wondering if I can prevail on you to discourage her from taking Herman out in public. It’s not the thing for a young lady to carry a snake.”
“Ah, yes,” he repeated, plucking three more grapes off the bunch. “But my Emily is very attached to Herman. She and her mother found him in the garden just before my wife died.”
“I’m aware of that, sir. But earlier this week when we visited the shops, a patron at Grafton House fainted dead away at the sight of Emily’s snake.” While that wasn’t precisely true, it could have been true. “If only you’d heard the shrieks of terror, Lord Neville. It wasn’t the sort of scene a young lady should inspire.”
Apparently the viscount found that more amusing than distressing, because he guffawed.
And then he stopped.
In fact, not only had he stopped laughing, it looked as though he’d stopped breathing. The plate dropped from his hand, shattering on the parquet floor as he clutched at his throat and chest. His mouth was open, but he seemed unable to speak. His skin was turning blue.
“Faith!” Juliana exclaimed loudly enough to make the people nearby look over. “Lord Neville, are you all right?”
Clearly he wasn’t.
“Help!” she yelled, moving to thump him on the back, the way people did when someone swallowed the wrong way and went into a coughing fit. But it seemed he couldn’t even cough. His eyes bugged out in his blue face, panicked.
Just then, Griffin ran up with his friend Lord Stafford in tow. “A chair,” Lord Stafford instructed. “Now.”
Griffin rushed to do his bidding. In the meantime, Lord Stafford very quickly—and very calmly, under the circumstances—untied the viscount’s cravat and loosened the buttons at his throat. All the while, he murmured soothing words in his smooth, chocolatey voice.
But Lord Neville didn’t look soothed. In fact, Juliana feared he was running out of time. Lord Stafford didn’t seem to think so, though. Decidedly un
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