Nikki had failed to avail herself of his invitation to salute his brow, Marmaduke escorted her to one of the overstuffed chairs. “Was it because you wanted to hear about Russia that you sent that note? Rolf was very curious as to why I was going out after having just said I did not plan to—yes, and wondered who I knew in London after so many years.”
“Rolf is a looby.” With a gentle shove, Lady Sweetbriar convinced Mr. Thorne to be seated, and then took up her position on his lap. “I was anxious to see you. Miss Clough had just told me you were in town. And now you may tell me about Russia, if you please.”
“It is a barbarous country.” If Marmaduke was discomposed by having a female seated on his lap, he made no sign, indeed seemed to have settled into his unusual position very comfortably. Lest Mr. Theme’s sanguinity be overrated, however, his large number of previous conquests must be recalled, as well as the fact that this was not the first time Nikki had perched thusly. “And barbarously governed. The tsar’s father and grandfather were both murdered. The prisons are full, the people are starving, and corruption is rife. The country is filled with secret societies. Most of the officers of the Imperial Guard belong to such societies, and the source of their ideas is revolutionary France.” His arms tightened around Lady Sweetbriar. “There are rumors of a French invasion. That is why I was recalled.”
“Goodness, but you do that well!” said Nikki, some moments later, in response not to Mr. Thorne’s remarks, but his ruthless embrace. “If only Avery—” Her bemused expression changed to horror and she leaped to her feet. “Mercy! I quite forgot I am betrothed. How can you laugh at me, Duke? I wish you would stop! To think I have forgotten Avery for an entire half hour— it is the most mortifying thing!”
“You refine too much upon it. Your memory was overset by the shock of our reunion.” Though he had ceased to laugh, Mr. Thorne continued to look amused. “Come sit down here by me, Nikki, and tell me all about this Avery.” He patted the plump seat of a nearby chair.
Looking wistful, Lady Sweetbriar declined and took up a defensive position behind a painted tripod table with hinged top and curved feet. “You must not think that I am bamboozling Avery like I did Reuben—or at least not so very much! We met at a prizefight, you see, so Avery knows how it is with me. Yes, and I understand how it is with him and his museum—it is the most curious place, crammed with all manner of oddities, from marble feet to stuffed flamingoes and giraffes. Not a time do I go there that I do not see something new; the last time it was a preserved vulture’s head.”
“A preserved vulture’s head?” Mr. Thorne’s tone was most compassionate. “My poor Nikki!”
“Are you sorry for me, Duke?” Feeling suddenly shy of the only man for whom she had ever possessed a nonmonetary affection, Lady Sweetbriar could not meet his gaze. “You must not be. Avery and I will rub along together very comfortably. He will never make odious inferences, or be forever accusing me of nourishing evil designs! Yes, and I like Avery very well, and can’t imagine anyone I’d rather be married to, even if he is a trifle preoccupied—but on the other hand, he doesn’t mind that I must have a fortune, or that I once trod the boards—though that was so very long ago I think I might be forgiven it, since in the meantime I have been very good.” She paused. “At least I have tried very hard to be!”
Mr. Thorne thought that Lady Sweetbriar was quick to take up the cudgels in her fiancé’s defense. Perhaps too quick, he mused. “Are you run aground again, Nikki? You never did have the least sense of economy. Shall I help you out?”
In response to this generous offer, Lady Sweetbriar elevated her gaze from the tea cart. Her expression was not happy. “If you are going to tell me you have made your fortune in
“Rolf is a looby.” With a gentle shove, Lady Sweetbriar convinced Mr. Thorne to be seated, and then took up her position on his lap. “I was anxious to see you. Miss Clough had just told me you were in town. And now you may tell me about Russia, if you please.”
“It is a barbarous country.” If Marmaduke was discomposed by having a female seated on his lap, he made no sign, indeed seemed to have settled into his unusual position very comfortably. Lest Mr. Theme’s sanguinity be overrated, however, his large number of previous conquests must be recalled, as well as the fact that this was not the first time Nikki had perched thusly. “And barbarously governed. The tsar’s father and grandfather were both murdered. The prisons are full, the people are starving, and corruption is rife. The country is filled with secret societies. Most of the officers of the Imperial Guard belong to such societies, and the source of their ideas is revolutionary France.” His arms tightened around Lady Sweetbriar. “There are rumors of a French invasion. That is why I was recalled.”
“Goodness, but you do that well!” said Nikki, some moments later, in response not to Mr. Thorne’s remarks, but his ruthless embrace. “If only Avery—” Her bemused expression changed to horror and she leaped to her feet. “Mercy! I quite forgot I am betrothed. How can you laugh at me, Duke? I wish you would stop! To think I have forgotten Avery for an entire half hour— it is the most mortifying thing!”
“You refine too much upon it. Your memory was overset by the shock of our reunion.” Though he had ceased to laugh, Mr. Thorne continued to look amused. “Come sit down here by me, Nikki, and tell me all about this Avery.” He patted the plump seat of a nearby chair.
Looking wistful, Lady Sweetbriar declined and took up a defensive position behind a painted tripod table with hinged top and curved feet. “You must not think that I am bamboozling Avery like I did Reuben—or at least not so very much! We met at a prizefight, you see, so Avery knows how it is with me. Yes, and I understand how it is with him and his museum—it is the most curious place, crammed with all manner of oddities, from marble feet to stuffed flamingoes and giraffes. Not a time do I go there that I do not see something new; the last time it was a preserved vulture’s head.”
“A preserved vulture’s head?” Mr. Thorne’s tone was most compassionate. “My poor Nikki!”
“Are you sorry for me, Duke?” Feeling suddenly shy of the only man for whom she had ever possessed a nonmonetary affection, Lady Sweetbriar could not meet his gaze. “You must not be. Avery and I will rub along together very comfortably. He will never make odious inferences, or be forever accusing me of nourishing evil designs! Yes, and I like Avery very well, and can’t imagine anyone I’d rather be married to, even if he is a trifle preoccupied—but on the other hand, he doesn’t mind that I must have a fortune, or that I once trod the boards—though that was so very long ago I think I might be forgiven it, since in the meantime I have been very good.” She paused. “At least I have tried very hard to be!”
Mr. Thorne thought that Lady Sweetbriar was quick to take up the cudgels in her fiancé’s defense. Perhaps too quick, he mused. “Are you run aground again, Nikki? You never did have the least sense of economy. Shall I help you out?”
In response to this generous offer, Lady Sweetbriar elevated her gaze from the tea cart. Her expression was not happy. “If you are going to tell me you have made your fortune in
Similar Books
