is the way with things one would much rather not hear about, they’re not easily forgotten once one has. Why did Malcolm leave England? Do you recall?”
“I do not think I ever knew.” Lady Davenham wished she might chafe her chest as well as her arms; ladies clad in next to nothing should not stand next to open windows lest they succumb to terminal gooseflesh. “It was something to do with a woman, I thought.”
“My dear, it always has to do with women, in Malcolm’s case.” Vivien’s voice was amused.
Somewhat unfairly, Lady Davenham decided that her husband found her a figure of fun. She also decided that she did not appreciate his amusement at her expense. “Have you grown so bored with your reapers and threshers that you must now meddle in woman’s work?” she inquired acerbically. “I am very used to manage for myself, you know. I do not require any assistance in getting Malcolm settled respectably. Look at him! As I predicted, he is the darling of the ton. Soon he will have the entrée everywhere.” Thea thought of the Lady Patronesses of Almack’s Assembly Rooms, who were unanimously starched-up. “Or almost!”
Although Lord Davenham’s mood was hardly improved by the alacrity with which his wife leaped to their cousin’s defense, he was far too well bred to succumb to his churlish impulse to turn Thea over his knee. “You must do as you think best,” he responded vaguely.
“Thank you!” muttered Lady Davenham ungraciously. “I shall.” With this exchange of amenities, conversation between them lapsed. Belatedly recalling her responsibilities as hostess, Thea looked around the drawing room. Some commotion appeared to be centered at the doorway. Even as Thea glanced in that direction, she heard a distant snarl.
A snarl? Surely Vivien’s ill-tempered hound could not have escaped his chamber? Thea’s faint hope was abruptly dashed as the throng prudently parted to let the hound pass. Dangling from the beast’s mouth was a fragment of fashionable blue stockinet, which had until recently formed the pantaloons of a gentleman guest. Lady Davenham wished very hard that she might become invisible.
Lord Davenham was not moved by such petty considerations. His guests could be no more distressed by Nimrod’s presence than his lordship was by theirs. Indeed, the wide swath which the dog cut through the drawing room put Vivien very strongly in mind of Moses parting the Red Sea. Serenely ignoring the indignant whispers attendant upon the arthritic hound’s passage, Lord Davenham made encouraging remarks. At length Nimrod arrived, wheezing, at his lordship’s feet. He collapsed upon Vivien’s highly varnished shoes, and sneezed. Concerned, Vivien immediately closed the window.
“I like that!” observed Thea, with more than a touch of sarcasm in her voice. “I may stand here shivering for a half-hour in the cold and you are unaware—but let that wretched hound so much as sniffle and your solicitude knows no bounds. I conclude Nimrod stands higher in your estimation than I.”
Despite a very strong temptation, Lord Davenham did not point out that Nimrod had not draped himself in garments expressly designed to distract a man’s thoughts from such mundane considerations as opened windows and cold night air. “If you didn’t want the window open, why did you say you did?” he inquired, as he picked up Nimrod and permitted the wheezing hound to nestle against his chest.
“I didn’t!” snapped Lady Davenham, nettled at the sight of Nimrod enjoying a demonstration of the affection that she had failed to inspire. As it he sensed her displeasure, Nimrod bared his teeth. Abruptly, Lady Davenham decided that she would be more comfortable among her guests, despite the brevity of her gown.
“Mettlesome fillies!” explained Lord Davenham to his hound, as Lady Davenham walked away.
Chapter Ten
Though Lord and Lady Davenham had not especially enjoyed the rout held in their cousin’s
“I do not think I ever knew.” Lady Davenham wished she might chafe her chest as well as her arms; ladies clad in next to nothing should not stand next to open windows lest they succumb to terminal gooseflesh. “It was something to do with a woman, I thought.”
“My dear, it always has to do with women, in Malcolm’s case.” Vivien’s voice was amused.
Somewhat unfairly, Lady Davenham decided that her husband found her a figure of fun. She also decided that she did not appreciate his amusement at her expense. “Have you grown so bored with your reapers and threshers that you must now meddle in woman’s work?” she inquired acerbically. “I am very used to manage for myself, you know. I do not require any assistance in getting Malcolm settled respectably. Look at him! As I predicted, he is the darling of the ton. Soon he will have the entrée everywhere.” Thea thought of the Lady Patronesses of Almack’s Assembly Rooms, who were unanimously starched-up. “Or almost!”
Although Lord Davenham’s mood was hardly improved by the alacrity with which his wife leaped to their cousin’s defense, he was far too well bred to succumb to his churlish impulse to turn Thea over his knee. “You must do as you think best,” he responded vaguely.
“Thank you!” muttered Lady Davenham ungraciously. “I shall.” With this exchange of amenities, conversation between them lapsed. Belatedly recalling her responsibilities as hostess, Thea looked around the drawing room. Some commotion appeared to be centered at the doorway. Even as Thea glanced in that direction, she heard a distant snarl.
A snarl? Surely Vivien’s ill-tempered hound could not have escaped his chamber? Thea’s faint hope was abruptly dashed as the throng prudently parted to let the hound pass. Dangling from the beast’s mouth was a fragment of fashionable blue stockinet, which had until recently formed the pantaloons of a gentleman guest. Lady Davenham wished very hard that she might become invisible.
Lord Davenham was not moved by such petty considerations. His guests could be no more distressed by Nimrod’s presence than his lordship was by theirs. Indeed, the wide swath which the dog cut through the drawing room put Vivien very strongly in mind of Moses parting the Red Sea. Serenely ignoring the indignant whispers attendant upon the arthritic hound’s passage, Lord Davenham made encouraging remarks. At length Nimrod arrived, wheezing, at his lordship’s feet. He collapsed upon Vivien’s highly varnished shoes, and sneezed. Concerned, Vivien immediately closed the window.
“I like that!” observed Thea, with more than a touch of sarcasm in her voice. “I may stand here shivering for a half-hour in the cold and you are unaware—but let that wretched hound so much as sniffle and your solicitude knows no bounds. I conclude Nimrod stands higher in your estimation than I.”
Despite a very strong temptation, Lord Davenham did not point out that Nimrod had not draped himself in garments expressly designed to distract a man’s thoughts from such mundane considerations as opened windows and cold night air. “If you didn’t want the window open, why did you say you did?” he inquired, as he picked up Nimrod and permitted the wheezing hound to nestle against his chest.
“I didn’t!” snapped Lady Davenham, nettled at the sight of Nimrod enjoying a demonstration of the affection that she had failed to inspire. As it he sensed her displeasure, Nimrod bared his teeth. Abruptly, Lady Davenham decided that she would be more comfortable among her guests, despite the brevity of her gown.
“Mettlesome fillies!” explained Lord Davenham to his hound, as Lady Davenham walked away.
Chapter Ten
Though Lord and Lady Davenham had not especially enjoyed the rout held in their cousin’s
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