biscuits.’
‘Now we are properly chaperoned,’ said the earl without a trace of humour, ‘please be seated, Miss Sinclair.’
Fiona smiled vaguely and sat down.
‘I am sorry I could not catch your assailant. It is unusual for a lady to be attacked in this part of town while it is still daylight,’ said the earl. ‘You were surely not carrying jewels or money?’
‘I am carrying a great deal of money,’ said Fiona. ‘What nasty pictures! I would not like them in a dining room. They would put me off my food. So savage.’ She looked at the painting of the tortured deer.
‘May I ask what you were doing carrying a great deal of money,’ asked Lord Harrington.
‘I won it at cards.’
‘Where?’
‘Lady Disher.’
‘Did no one warn you against Lady Disher? I have heard said she cheats. She marks the cards.’
Fiona looked surprised. ‘Is one not supposed to mark the cards?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Oh. The first few games the cards were marked by little pin pricks. I pointed this out to Lady Disher who became most alarmed because she thought the servants had been playing with them. But when she ordered a new pack, I simply was at my wits’ end to tell which were the aces. So I marked them myself.’
‘How?’ demanded the earl, fighting down an unmanly desire to giggle helplessly.
‘My hands were a little bit sticky from all the cakes I had eaten so I put a little bit of stick at the top of each ace.’
‘That is cheating!’
‘How sad,’ said Fiona.
‘Are you really as naive as you appear, Miss Sinclair? Sometimes I have a feeling you know very well what you are about.’
Fiona smiled at him but said nothing.
‘Miss Sinclair, what were you doing in Hanover Square? Was it in the hope of seeing me?’
Her wide grey eyes with their thick fringe of sooty lashes looked at the earl with the clear, innocent candour of a young child. ‘I have no reason to seek you out,’ said Fiona. ‘Why should I?’
‘I am used to ladies trying by every means to bring themselves to my notice, Miss Sinclair.’
‘How very odd,’ said Fiona, stifling a yawn. ‘I do hope Joseph is not going to be overlong.’
‘I am sorry you find my company fatiguing.’
The butler came in bearing a tray with cakes and biscuits and wine. Fiona accepted a glass of madeira but closed her eyes at the sight of the cakes and biscuits. ‘No, no more,’ she said faintly. ‘I ate too many this afternoon.’
A silence fell while Fiona sipped her wine and the earl studied Fiona. The sun outside had sunk lower in the sky, and a dusty shaft of gold shone through the windows to gild Fiona’s face and figure and to send prisms of light flashing from the crystal glass she held in her hand.
There was a
yielding
about her, a softness and femininity that made Lord Harrington’s pulses quicken. Her skin was unbelievably pure, and each little movement she made betrayed a natural grace. Little gold silk slippers peeped out from below the flounces of her gown. He wondered what her ankles were like. He wondered . . .
He gave his mind a slap, straightened up, and asked, ‘And what are your impressions of London?’
‘By that, I suppose, you mean what are my impressions of society,’ said Fiona. ‘I do not really know. It is all so bewildering. So divorced from reality.’
‘In what way?’
‘The government fell in April, the slave trade was abolished, Napoleon controls most of Europe and plans to invade Britain or starve her to death, and yet none of these things seem to trouble or amaze anyone. The gentlemen lay bets on everything, and the ladies try with all their wiles to find the name of my dressmaker.’
‘And all these things would be discussed in polite society in Scotland?’ said the earl sarcastically.
‘As to the discussions that go on in polite society in Scotland, I do not know. But even at the orphanage matters of politics and state were discussed by the staff.’
‘At the . . . ?’
‘Oh, I hear
‘Now we are properly chaperoned,’ said the earl without a trace of humour, ‘please be seated, Miss Sinclair.’
Fiona smiled vaguely and sat down.
‘I am sorry I could not catch your assailant. It is unusual for a lady to be attacked in this part of town while it is still daylight,’ said the earl. ‘You were surely not carrying jewels or money?’
‘I am carrying a great deal of money,’ said Fiona. ‘What nasty pictures! I would not like them in a dining room. They would put me off my food. So savage.’ She looked at the painting of the tortured deer.
‘May I ask what you were doing carrying a great deal of money,’ asked Lord Harrington.
‘I won it at cards.’
‘Where?’
‘Lady Disher.’
‘Did no one warn you against Lady Disher? I have heard said she cheats. She marks the cards.’
Fiona looked surprised. ‘Is one not supposed to mark the cards?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Oh. The first few games the cards were marked by little pin pricks. I pointed this out to Lady Disher who became most alarmed because she thought the servants had been playing with them. But when she ordered a new pack, I simply was at my wits’ end to tell which were the aces. So I marked them myself.’
‘How?’ demanded the earl, fighting down an unmanly desire to giggle helplessly.
‘My hands were a little bit sticky from all the cakes I had eaten so I put a little bit of stick at the top of each ace.’
‘That is cheating!’
‘How sad,’ said Fiona.
‘Are you really as naive as you appear, Miss Sinclair? Sometimes I have a feeling you know very well what you are about.’
Fiona smiled at him but said nothing.
‘Miss Sinclair, what were you doing in Hanover Square? Was it in the hope of seeing me?’
Her wide grey eyes with their thick fringe of sooty lashes looked at the earl with the clear, innocent candour of a young child. ‘I have no reason to seek you out,’ said Fiona. ‘Why should I?’
‘I am used to ladies trying by every means to bring themselves to my notice, Miss Sinclair.’
‘How very odd,’ said Fiona, stifling a yawn. ‘I do hope Joseph is not going to be overlong.’
‘I am sorry you find my company fatiguing.’
The butler came in bearing a tray with cakes and biscuits and wine. Fiona accepted a glass of madeira but closed her eyes at the sight of the cakes and biscuits. ‘No, no more,’ she said faintly. ‘I ate too many this afternoon.’
A silence fell while Fiona sipped her wine and the earl studied Fiona. The sun outside had sunk lower in the sky, and a dusty shaft of gold shone through the windows to gild Fiona’s face and figure and to send prisms of light flashing from the crystal glass she held in her hand.
There was a
yielding
about her, a softness and femininity that made Lord Harrington’s pulses quicken. Her skin was unbelievably pure, and each little movement she made betrayed a natural grace. Little gold silk slippers peeped out from below the flounces of her gown. He wondered what her ankles were like. He wondered . . .
He gave his mind a slap, straightened up, and asked, ‘And what are your impressions of London?’
‘By that, I suppose, you mean what are my impressions of society,’ said Fiona. ‘I do not really know. It is all so bewildering. So divorced from reality.’
‘In what way?’
‘The government fell in April, the slave trade was abolished, Napoleon controls most of Europe and plans to invade Britain or starve her to death, and yet none of these things seem to trouble or amaze anyone. The gentlemen lay bets on everything, and the ladies try with all their wiles to find the name of my dressmaker.’
‘And all these things would be discussed in polite society in Scotland?’ said the earl sarcastically.
‘As to the discussions that go on in polite society in Scotland, I do not know. But even at the orphanage matters of politics and state were discussed by the staff.’
‘At the . . . ?’
‘Oh, I hear
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