Bath Scandal by Joan Smith

the window with a glass of wine in his fingers, looking out at the street. His head turned, his eyes made a slow examination of Bea, and a smile moved over his saturnine features. “Well worth the wait,” he said, with a small bow.
    She felt he was looking straight through her gown. The intimacy in that gaze warmed her cheeks. When Miss Pittfield cleared her throat, Bea felt that the whole room was aware of the awkward moment. “You are also looking elegant, Southam. I see you are wearing thenew cravat your valet purchased. We must keep an eye on him, Gillie, or your brother will taketo sprinkling himself with Steak’s Lavender Water and carrying a bouquet.”
    Southam smiled blandly at these charges and went to the table. He poured a glass of wine and carried it to Bea. “I have taken the liberty of ordering dinner, to soothe the savage beast,” he said, a glance just flickering off his ravenous sister.
    “Roast beef!” Gillie said. “I told Rawl you like it, Aunt Bea.”
    “Indeed I do. I’m sorry if I kept you all waiting.”
    Southam drew her a chair and sat down across from her.
    “What are we doing tonight?” Gillie asked. Southam looked to Beatrice for instructions.
    “There’s a dance, here at the Royal Bath,” Miss Pittfield mentioned.
    “Till we have time to canvass the town tomorrow and see what it offers, it might be best to stay here tonight,” Southam commented idly.
    Gillie stared into her wine glass. “There wouldn’t be any races at night. And Tannie knows where we are staying.”
    “Perhaps he’ll drop in,” Bea said, to cheer her.
    Dinner arrived and was attacked with vigor. Bea was aware of Southam’s dark eyes moving too often in her direction as they ate and talked and lingering longer than they should. He made her uncomfortably aware of her low-cut gown. Over coffee he was staring again. When he lifted his eyes, he found Bea examining him.
    “Have you been wondering whether these are the pearls you gave me as a wedding gift, Southam?” she asked. Her tone was ostensibly polite, but he sensed an undercurrent of censure in it. “I have noticed you examining them from time to time. They are indeed the same ones. I am very fond of them.”
    “I am happy they proved useful.”
    “Pearls always come in handy,” Miss Pittfield said.
    The waiter came to remove their plates and announce the dessert choices. Gillie, who had a large sweet tooth, could not choose between the Chantilly cream and more macaroons, so she ordered both, and so did Miss Pittfield.
    “I, being a confirmed provincial, will have the apple tart and a wedge of cheddar,” Southam said.
    “And I, being an aging lady, will have just coffee, or I shall not be able to get my gown buttoned,” Bea said.
    “Why, you are thin as a rail, Cousin,” Southam objected.
    “High praise indeed! Next you will be saying I look like a skeleton.”
    He turned a laughing eye on her. “That was not the simile that occurred to me, I promise you.”
    “I shan’t ask what simile did occur.”
    “A cat,” he said promptly.
    “You’re making Aunt Bea blush, Rawl,” Gillie said. “Don’t you know you should never say anything to make a lady blush?”
    “If a gentleman is so uncouth,” Bea added, “then a lady does not hear it. Though if I had heard it, I would show him my claws. At least he did not say an old cat.”
    “I was referring to your eyes,” he said.
    Dessert and coffee were brought in. There was no longer any discussion over the taking of coffee. Southam held his cup out without even thinking. Hard on the heels of the waiter came the duke, bumping into the servant and knocking the cheese plate off his tray. It clattered across the floor, with cheese slices flying in all directions.
    “Watch what you’re about. You nearly knocked me over!” the duke scolded.
    “Sorry, sir.” The waiter turned to Southam. “I’ll get fresh cheese, milord.”
    “And another cup for our guest.Or perhaps you would prefer a