sort of carry-on, I wager.”
“I see nothing wrong in that.”
His frown managed to include both disbelief and disapproval. “It is ridiculous for a puppy to be promising eternal love at the height of an infatuation that won’t outlive the season. Of course, love is madness, and madmen aren’t held accountable for their promises.”
“This one will be,”she cautioned.
When Sally looked toward the grate, she found Derwent’s expression not far removed from lunacy. The two were sitting close together, smiling and occasionally saying a word, as they have been for a month. How could her sister endure it night after night?
When Mrs. Hermitage arose to get her netting box, Monstuart said, “Would you have a spare needle? I’m about ready to try my hand at that embroidery business.”
“Why do you remain in Ashford, if you find it so boring?”Sally asked.
“I think you have an idea why I stick.”His eyes moved slowly from the grate to study Sally. His smile was enigmatic but less satirical than before.
“You’re wasting your time. You can’t stop this marriage. You will look foolish in the extreme if he must borrow from us to finance his first years of marriage.”
“I shall look nohow—in that extremely unlikely case. Shall we play with the chess pieces, or would you rather tackle something else this evening?”
“I’m a bit of a dab at backgammon,”she suggested.
“I don’t know the game.”
“Piquet?”
He nodded. “A shilling a point?”
“You forget I am a pauper. A penny a point.”
“Chicken stakes.”
Sally leveled a cool stare at him. “What stakes would you expect in a chicken roost?”
“That ill-chosen speech has been relayed by your mother, I see. I have apologized to her, and now I apologize to you,”he said, but curtly, with no air of contrition. “A penny a point it is.”
“You of all people ought not to encourage me to outrun the grocer, asI plan to dump all my expenses in Derwent’s lap.”
“I see we both assume I shall be the winner,”he said blandly.
They rose and walked to the games table, where Sally drew out cards and handed them to her partner to be dealt. During a game that lasted for over an hour, she was soundly trounced. She liked to win, but in spite of this, she had not found an evening to pass so quickly and pleasantly for some time. Monstuart could be maddening, but he could also be a highly entertaining partner. The battle between them added a welcome spice to it all and gave her a worthy conversational opponent. It came as a shock and a disappointment when her partner began to yawn into his fist and suggested he had had enough of cards.
“Even with the inducement of my colossal winnings,”he added, sweeping a few coins of small denomination into his hand and pocketing them. “Did the pharmacopoeia in breeches we met today come to call?”he asked.
“Mr. Heppleworth was here this afternoon,”she replied.
“Was Miss Hermitage home to greet him, as he so ardently hopped?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Is he an example of the suitors available to you at Ashford?”
She felt an unwelcome blush stain her cheeks, that Monstuart should see the paltry quality of her suitors. “I have always preferred older gentlemen.”
“Older is a relative term. Older than what? Watch your answer closely, Miss Hermitage. It cannot have escaped your sharp eyes that I am older than you.”
Her eyes snapped angrily. Was he daring to imply she had set her cap at him? Had she betrayed the growing interest?
“Caught without an answer, Miss Hermitage? Use that much-vaunted intelligence. You prefer white hair, perhaps? A touch of the gout?”
“I prefer white hair to town bronze, in any case.”
He rose and hunched his elegant shoulders nonchalantly. “We have already discussed the impossibility of accounting for taste on a former occasion. Now I bid you good evening.”On this speech he went to join the others.
Derwent was just rising to take his leave.
“I see nothing wrong in that.”
His frown managed to include both disbelief and disapproval. “It is ridiculous for a puppy to be promising eternal love at the height of an infatuation that won’t outlive the season. Of course, love is madness, and madmen aren’t held accountable for their promises.”
“This one will be,”she cautioned.
When Sally looked toward the grate, she found Derwent’s expression not far removed from lunacy. The two were sitting close together, smiling and occasionally saying a word, as they have been for a month. How could her sister endure it night after night?
When Mrs. Hermitage arose to get her netting box, Monstuart said, “Would you have a spare needle? I’m about ready to try my hand at that embroidery business.”
“Why do you remain in Ashford, if you find it so boring?”Sally asked.
“I think you have an idea why I stick.”His eyes moved slowly from the grate to study Sally. His smile was enigmatic but less satirical than before.
“You’re wasting your time. You can’t stop this marriage. You will look foolish in the extreme if he must borrow from us to finance his first years of marriage.”
“I shall look nohow—in that extremely unlikely case. Shall we play with the chess pieces, or would you rather tackle something else this evening?”
“I’m a bit of a dab at backgammon,”she suggested.
“I don’t know the game.”
“Piquet?”
He nodded. “A shilling a point?”
“You forget I am a pauper. A penny a point.”
“Chicken stakes.”
Sally leveled a cool stare at him. “What stakes would you expect in a chicken roost?”
“That ill-chosen speech has been relayed by your mother, I see. I have apologized to her, and now I apologize to you,”he said, but curtly, with no air of contrition. “A penny a point it is.”
“You of all people ought not to encourage me to outrun the grocer, asI plan to dump all my expenses in Derwent’s lap.”
“I see we both assume I shall be the winner,”he said blandly.
They rose and walked to the games table, where Sally drew out cards and handed them to her partner to be dealt. During a game that lasted for over an hour, she was soundly trounced. She liked to win, but in spite of this, she had not found an evening to pass so quickly and pleasantly for some time. Monstuart could be maddening, but he could also be a highly entertaining partner. The battle between them added a welcome spice to it all and gave her a worthy conversational opponent. It came as a shock and a disappointment when her partner began to yawn into his fist and suggested he had had enough of cards.
“Even with the inducement of my colossal winnings,”he added, sweeping a few coins of small denomination into his hand and pocketing them. “Did the pharmacopoeia in breeches we met today come to call?”he asked.
“Mr. Heppleworth was here this afternoon,”she replied.
“Was Miss Hermitage home to greet him, as he so ardently hopped?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Is he an example of the suitors available to you at Ashford?”
She felt an unwelcome blush stain her cheeks, that Monstuart should see the paltry quality of her suitors. “I have always preferred older gentlemen.”
“Older is a relative term. Older than what? Watch your answer closely, Miss Hermitage. It cannot have escaped your sharp eyes that I am older than you.”
Her eyes snapped angrily. Was he daring to imply she had set her cap at him? Had she betrayed the growing interest?
“Caught without an answer, Miss Hermitage? Use that much-vaunted intelligence. You prefer white hair, perhaps? A touch of the gout?”
“I prefer white hair to town bronze, in any case.”
He rose and hunched his elegant shoulders nonchalantly. “We have already discussed the impossibility of accounting for taste on a former occasion. Now I bid you good evening.”On this speech he went to join the others.
Derwent was just rising to take his leave.
Similar Books
