to—what was I born to, I wonder? Surely I must have an aptitude for something.”
“A clown’s cap and bells, perhaps?” Havergal suggested. He was unhappy with the duke’s hogging of the ladies’ attention. He could not imagine why Lettie wasted a moment on him.
“Surely you must have an aptitude for something more positive than not smiling,” Lettie said.
Crymont turned a weary eye on Havergal. “You were correct. The lady is unmovable as an oak. I find no pity in her heart. En effet, I do not find her heart.”
“I don’t wear it on my sleeve, Your Grace.”
Crymont was in alt at having the undivided attention of the party. He liked that Miss Beddoes took him to task and that Havergal was jealous. He said with a deep look into her eyes, “What must I do to find that elusive organ, madam?”
“You must smile, sir, to show me you appreciate all the advantages Fate has showered on you.”
“Done!” he said, and smiled fatuously into her eyes.
Havergal looked on with a grumpy face. “Don’t forget to pay the forfeit,” he said.
Lettie gave him a knowing glance. “I am surprised at your lack of wits, Havergal. If you really want to see the duke eat his hat, all you had to do was tell him a joke.”
“I despise jokes,” Crymont said, to return the attention to its proper object.
“Well, that is a great pity,” Lettie told him frankly, “for you make yourself an object of humor by playing off these absurd airs and graces. Now, let us speak of something sensible, like dessert.”
“I recommend the chantilly,” Crymont told her with the glowing eye of infatuation.
The party, though it brought Havergal no closer to his goal, was held to be a great success by the duke. Miss Beddoes liked him; she was not the stiff Tartar Havergal claimed. In short, she would soon be eager to do as he advised her, and he would advise her to hand the thousand pounds over to Havergal.
“I have softened her up for you,” he said aside to Havergal when it was time for him to take the ladies home.
“You have done nothing of the sort!” he retorted angrily. He was annoyed at the growing friendship between Lettie and the duke, though he did not consider why it should bother him. “All you have done is show her I consort with idiots.”
“You won’t forget to come back?”
“Then it was a hum that the girls have left?”
“I couldn’t tell Miss Beddoes the truth. She would have insisted on the girls joining us. That might have been amusing,” he added with a half-smile.
“Breaking society’s rules is beginning to lose its charm for me. You’ll send your carriage and have it waiting at the same place?”
“How soon can you get away?”
“I’ll be out the window as soon as we’re home. Just give us five minutes so your carriage doesn’t overtake us en route.”
Havergal found the duke had not impressed Lettie so much as he imagined. Miss FitzSimmons babbled her delight in the dinner party on the way home, but Lettie said, “He is absurd. Imagine a grown man making a wager not to smile, and when he has so much to smile about. I had not realized this vice of wagering is so widespread.” Havergal felt it was a dart at himself and said nothing.
Had they been alone, he would have told her he planned to discontinue that style of life. He did plan to change his ways, but he doubted if Lettie would believe him, and he disliked to discuss it in front of Miss FitzSimmons. So he said good night when they returned and went up to his room to climb out the window and meet Crymont’s carriage. The meeting seemed an imposition. He would have preferred to go below and talk to the ladies.
Belowstairs, Lettie went about her business. “I must see what the doctor had to say about Jamie’s illness,” she said, and called the butler.
Siddons came at a stately pace and planted himself in front of her chair. “I am very sorry, ma’am, but there’s nothing ails the servants except an overindulgence in wine.
“A clown’s cap and bells, perhaps?” Havergal suggested. He was unhappy with the duke’s hogging of the ladies’ attention. He could not imagine why Lettie wasted a moment on him.
“Surely you must have an aptitude for something more positive than not smiling,” Lettie said.
Crymont turned a weary eye on Havergal. “You were correct. The lady is unmovable as an oak. I find no pity in her heart. En effet, I do not find her heart.”
“I don’t wear it on my sleeve, Your Grace.”
Crymont was in alt at having the undivided attention of the party. He liked that Miss Beddoes took him to task and that Havergal was jealous. He said with a deep look into her eyes, “What must I do to find that elusive organ, madam?”
“You must smile, sir, to show me you appreciate all the advantages Fate has showered on you.”
“Done!” he said, and smiled fatuously into her eyes.
Havergal looked on with a grumpy face. “Don’t forget to pay the forfeit,” he said.
Lettie gave him a knowing glance. “I am surprised at your lack of wits, Havergal. If you really want to see the duke eat his hat, all you had to do was tell him a joke.”
“I despise jokes,” Crymont said, to return the attention to its proper object.
“Well, that is a great pity,” Lettie told him frankly, “for you make yourself an object of humor by playing off these absurd airs and graces. Now, let us speak of something sensible, like dessert.”
“I recommend the chantilly,” Crymont told her with the glowing eye of infatuation.
The party, though it brought Havergal no closer to his goal, was held to be a great success by the duke. Miss Beddoes liked him; she was not the stiff Tartar Havergal claimed. In short, she would soon be eager to do as he advised her, and he would advise her to hand the thousand pounds over to Havergal.
“I have softened her up for you,” he said aside to Havergal when it was time for him to take the ladies home.
“You have done nothing of the sort!” he retorted angrily. He was annoyed at the growing friendship between Lettie and the duke, though he did not consider why it should bother him. “All you have done is show her I consort with idiots.”
“You won’t forget to come back?”
“Then it was a hum that the girls have left?”
“I couldn’t tell Miss Beddoes the truth. She would have insisted on the girls joining us. That might have been amusing,” he added with a half-smile.
“Breaking society’s rules is beginning to lose its charm for me. You’ll send your carriage and have it waiting at the same place?”
“How soon can you get away?”
“I’ll be out the window as soon as we’re home. Just give us five minutes so your carriage doesn’t overtake us en route.”
Havergal found the duke had not impressed Lettie so much as he imagined. Miss FitzSimmons babbled her delight in the dinner party on the way home, but Lettie said, “He is absurd. Imagine a grown man making a wager not to smile, and when he has so much to smile about. I had not realized this vice of wagering is so widespread.” Havergal felt it was a dart at himself and said nothing.
Had they been alone, he would have told her he planned to discontinue that style of life. He did plan to change his ways, but he doubted if Lettie would believe him, and he disliked to discuss it in front of Miss FitzSimmons. So he said good night when they returned and went up to his room to climb out the window and meet Crymont’s carriage. The meeting seemed an imposition. He would have preferred to go below and talk to the ladies.
Belowstairs, Lettie went about her business. “I must see what the doctor had to say about Jamie’s illness,” she said, and called the butler.
Siddons came at a stately pace and planted himself in front of her chair. “I am very sorry, ma’am, but there’s nothing ails the servants except an overindulgence in wine.
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