said Mrs. Hackett. “The man is not quite-quite, definitely not pukka-sahib. Not one of us. In trade. Smells of the shop.”
“I say, that’s going a bit far,” cut in Andrew Harvey cheerfully. “Can’t say I’ve ever noticed Jonesy smelling of his products.”
“The clean ones don’t smell,” said MacGregor conversationally. “It’s only when they’ve been
used
…”
Elinor got to her feet. She was quite puce with anger. “Such subjects are
not
discussed in front of ladies. I am surprised at your allowing it. I swear that man"—here she pointed to MacGregor—"has corrupted you.”
She waited for a second, sure of Mrs. Hackett’s apology. After all, she, Elinor, was one of the Bellings of Sussex. But Mrs. Hackett had tasted more heady social gossip than anything Elinor had to offer, so she simply said nothing and stared across the Queen Ann silver teapot with an air of brooding malice.
After Elinor had left, the other guests began to consider taking their leave as well.
Andrew Harvey noticed out of the corner of his eye that Lucy and MacGregor were leaving. “Excuse me, Didi. I feel I should escort the newcomers back to their hotel.”
Didi racked her brains for something to say that would dissuade him but he was already crossing the room to Lucy’s side.
“I will see you both safely home, Mr. Balfour-MacGregor.”
“It’s quite all right,” said the infuriating MacGregor. "Mrs. Hackett has kindly offered her carriage.”
“You have not seen much of Dinard, have you?” asked the persistent viscount of Lucy. “Of course you haven’t. I am sure you can trust me with her as far as the hotel, sir.”
“Very well,” said MacGregor. “Off you go if you insist on walking.”
Lucy’s heart began to hammer. They would be alone, she and Andrew Harvey, as alone as they had been on the Scottish hillside. They would walk above the tumbling sea and under the tinny rattling of the winter palms …
“What a ripping idea. I declare I will walk as well.” It was Didi. Andrew swore under his breath.
“Good idea,” he said. “Boodles will escort Didi and I will show Miss Balfour-MacGregor the sights of our adopted town.”
Boodles and Didi were quite patently furious. Boodles would have liked to escort the attractive newcomer himself, and Didi, of course, wanted the viscount to herself.
Outside, Andrew Harvey held out his arm to Lucy. She put her hand timidly on his arm, feeling as if an electric charge had just been shot through her body.
Didi and Boodles followed behind them along the walk above the noisy sea. Occasionally they would shout remarks to the infuriating couple in front but neither Andrew nor Lucy seemed to be aware of their existence.
One part of Andrew Harvey’s brain seemed to be looking on at himself in cynical amusement. He could not have fallen in love so quickly. One simply did not. The girl was remarkably beautiful, but, then, he had met many beauties. He would keep his head and enjoy a flirtation, and if she seemed to be getting at all serious about him, he would fade away in his usual practiced manner.
All too soon the walk broadened out allowing the other couple to come abreast. Lucy watched Didi’s expressive little face as the girl looked at Andrew Harvey. What a mixture it was of love and passion and jealousy and anger. Lucy shivered. Perhaps she would become like that herself. Perhaps she would be flirted with for a little length of time until the viscount was no longer amused. She must be very careful. They had reached the Hôtel du Nord. She abruptly withdrew her hand and bid the startled party a curt good-day.
MacGregor was already there and waiting. “You’re going too fast, Lucy. Hold back a bit. If you’re so obviously in love with a man like Harvey, he’ll soon lose interest.”
“I
know,”
said Lucy crossly. Love was such a delicate, fragile thing, like the spun glass birds in the case in the corner of their drawing room. MacGregor’s interest
“I say, that’s going a bit far,” cut in Andrew Harvey cheerfully. “Can’t say I’ve ever noticed Jonesy smelling of his products.”
“The clean ones don’t smell,” said MacGregor conversationally. “It’s only when they’ve been
used
…”
Elinor got to her feet. She was quite puce with anger. “Such subjects are
not
discussed in front of ladies. I am surprised at your allowing it. I swear that man"—here she pointed to MacGregor—"has corrupted you.”
She waited for a second, sure of Mrs. Hackett’s apology. After all, she, Elinor, was one of the Bellings of Sussex. But Mrs. Hackett had tasted more heady social gossip than anything Elinor had to offer, so she simply said nothing and stared across the Queen Ann silver teapot with an air of brooding malice.
After Elinor had left, the other guests began to consider taking their leave as well.
Andrew Harvey noticed out of the corner of his eye that Lucy and MacGregor were leaving. “Excuse me, Didi. I feel I should escort the newcomers back to their hotel.”
Didi racked her brains for something to say that would dissuade him but he was already crossing the room to Lucy’s side.
“I will see you both safely home, Mr. Balfour-MacGregor.”
“It’s quite all right,” said the infuriating MacGregor. "Mrs. Hackett has kindly offered her carriage.”
“You have not seen much of Dinard, have you?” asked the persistent viscount of Lucy. “Of course you haven’t. I am sure you can trust me with her as far as the hotel, sir.”
“Very well,” said MacGregor. “Off you go if you insist on walking.”
Lucy’s heart began to hammer. They would be alone, she and Andrew Harvey, as alone as they had been on the Scottish hillside. They would walk above the tumbling sea and under the tinny rattling of the winter palms …
“What a ripping idea. I declare I will walk as well.” It was Didi. Andrew swore under his breath.
“Good idea,” he said. “Boodles will escort Didi and I will show Miss Balfour-MacGregor the sights of our adopted town.”
Boodles and Didi were quite patently furious. Boodles would have liked to escort the attractive newcomer himself, and Didi, of course, wanted the viscount to herself.
Outside, Andrew Harvey held out his arm to Lucy. She put her hand timidly on his arm, feeling as if an electric charge had just been shot through her body.
Didi and Boodles followed behind them along the walk above the noisy sea. Occasionally they would shout remarks to the infuriating couple in front but neither Andrew nor Lucy seemed to be aware of their existence.
One part of Andrew Harvey’s brain seemed to be looking on at himself in cynical amusement. He could not have fallen in love so quickly. One simply did not. The girl was remarkably beautiful, but, then, he had met many beauties. He would keep his head and enjoy a flirtation, and if she seemed to be getting at all serious about him, he would fade away in his usual practiced manner.
All too soon the walk broadened out allowing the other couple to come abreast. Lucy watched Didi’s expressive little face as the girl looked at Andrew Harvey. What a mixture it was of love and passion and jealousy and anger. Lucy shivered. Perhaps she would become like that herself. Perhaps she would be flirted with for a little length of time until the viscount was no longer amused. She must be very careful. They had reached the Hôtel du Nord. She abruptly withdrew her hand and bid the startled party a curt good-day.
MacGregor was already there and waiting. “You’re going too fast, Lucy. Hold back a bit. If you’re so obviously in love with a man like Harvey, he’ll soon lose interest.”
“I
know,”
said Lucy crossly. Love was such a delicate, fragile thing, like the spun glass birds in the case in the corner of their drawing room. MacGregor’s interest
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