Latin. I find the Romans'
way of life, their advancements, fascinating. Everything about them is so interesting." Muriel stepped into
the room toward the window, toward him.
"I know of a tutor, he's in London" Mr. Lloyd pulled
a stub of pencil and a bit of paper from his pocket and
leaned toward the table to write. "If you are ever in
Town, you should look him up"
Mr. Lloyd held out the slip of paper to Muriel. Another
two steps brought her to the window that overlooked the
parterre. She took the tutor's name and address he held
out to her: Signor Biondi, 4 Tavistock Road. She realized
that this was something quite precious.
"Thank you" Muriel could not meet his gaze and
thought herself a goose.
He took in her tightly bound dark hair and conservative attire. Perhaps he was a bit intimidated by her, thinking she was much older than he. She glanced out the
window, where a group of gentlemen guests congregated.
Mr. Lloyd followed her example. "Besides having
cheroots, what do you suppose that is about?"
Muriel drew her opera glasses from her pocket and
brought them to her eyes. The suitors, most but not all,
were lounging about the marble benches blowing clouds.
"They appear quite amiable to one another even
though they are in competition for Lady Augusta" Mr.
Lloyd's voice seemed to constrict. "I don't think I
could pretend friendliness, especially with that sort of
company."
"What do you mean?" Muriel drew the glasses from
her eyes to glare at him. "I'm sure you'd rub along with
them quite well."
"No, I'm far too shy-especially when it comes to
females-especially talking to females." He sounded
nervous uttering the word.
"I am a female, Mr. Lloyd!" Muriel took exception to
his doubt of her sex. She once again brought the glasses
to her eyes and continued to study the men below.
"I beg your pardon, Lady M-Muriel," he stammered.
"You are d-different fr-from other-"
"Please don't address me as Lady. It makes me sound
so old"
His gaze darted away from her and he looked out the
window, watching the gentlemen below. "I wonder
what they could possibly be saying."
"Your brother is asking Sir Nicholas of his odds at engaging my sister's interest," Muriel told Mr. Lloyd
without thinking how inappropriate their topic might
have been.
"Odds? As in wagering?"
"Exactly." Muriel concentrated on the precise reply.
"Sir Nicholas gives him fifteen to one and tells your
brother Lady Augusta thinks him no better than any of
his contemporaries. He might have an advantage if he
could show his superiority by besting the young lady in
a battle of wits, because she does show a preference for
verbal dueling."
Even without the benefit of magnification, Mr. Lloyd
could see the reaction as the surrounding men laughed
in good humor.
"Your brother says he'd not place a wager while on the
Duke's property, because if they are discovered, they'll
not have a chance to explain their actions before being
expelled. Sir Warren is impressed with your brother and
says he'll stake a quid on your brother's matrimonial
future."
Lord Tremaine and Sir Warren Cantrell had moved
forward, blocking Muriel's view of Lord Marsdon's reply. A roar of laughter followed.
"They're making bets on who wins Lady Augusta's
hand? How can you know that's what they are saying?"
Young Mr. Lloyd appeared affronted at the conversation and, it seemed, he refused to believe it.
"I observe them speaking, how they form the words
with their mouths. I watch them and I know what they
are saying."
"Is it possible?" Mr. Lloyd stared at Muriel. "Can
you really do such a thing?"
"Not only can I do it, Mr. Lloyd, but I do it well. Why
don't you join the gentlemen below and have a word
with your brother and see if that is not what nefarious
activity they have chosen to occupy their time."
Mr. Lloyd straightened and it seemed he was plucking up the nerve to do just as she suggested.
"My father will certainly give birth to a
way of life, their advancements, fascinating. Everything about them is so interesting." Muriel stepped into
the room toward the window, toward him.
"I know of a tutor, he's in London" Mr. Lloyd pulled
a stub of pencil and a bit of paper from his pocket and
leaned toward the table to write. "If you are ever in
Town, you should look him up"
Mr. Lloyd held out the slip of paper to Muriel. Another
two steps brought her to the window that overlooked the
parterre. She took the tutor's name and address he held
out to her: Signor Biondi, 4 Tavistock Road. She realized
that this was something quite precious.
"Thank you" Muriel could not meet his gaze and
thought herself a goose.
He took in her tightly bound dark hair and conservative attire. Perhaps he was a bit intimidated by her, thinking she was much older than he. She glanced out the
window, where a group of gentlemen guests congregated.
Mr. Lloyd followed her example. "Besides having
cheroots, what do you suppose that is about?"
Muriel drew her opera glasses from her pocket and
brought them to her eyes. The suitors, most but not all,
were lounging about the marble benches blowing clouds.
"They appear quite amiable to one another even
though they are in competition for Lady Augusta" Mr.
Lloyd's voice seemed to constrict. "I don't think I
could pretend friendliness, especially with that sort of
company."
"What do you mean?" Muriel drew the glasses from
her eyes to glare at him. "I'm sure you'd rub along with
them quite well."
"No, I'm far too shy-especially when it comes to
females-especially talking to females." He sounded
nervous uttering the word.
"I am a female, Mr. Lloyd!" Muriel took exception to
his doubt of her sex. She once again brought the glasses
to her eyes and continued to study the men below.
"I beg your pardon, Lady M-Muriel," he stammered.
"You are d-different fr-from other-"
"Please don't address me as Lady. It makes me sound
so old"
His gaze darted away from her and he looked out the
window, watching the gentlemen below. "I wonder
what they could possibly be saying."
"Your brother is asking Sir Nicholas of his odds at engaging my sister's interest," Muriel told Mr. Lloyd
without thinking how inappropriate their topic might
have been.
"Odds? As in wagering?"
"Exactly." Muriel concentrated on the precise reply.
"Sir Nicholas gives him fifteen to one and tells your
brother Lady Augusta thinks him no better than any of
his contemporaries. He might have an advantage if he
could show his superiority by besting the young lady in
a battle of wits, because she does show a preference for
verbal dueling."
Even without the benefit of magnification, Mr. Lloyd
could see the reaction as the surrounding men laughed
in good humor.
"Your brother says he'd not place a wager while on the
Duke's property, because if they are discovered, they'll
not have a chance to explain their actions before being
expelled. Sir Warren is impressed with your brother and
says he'll stake a quid on your brother's matrimonial
future."
Lord Tremaine and Sir Warren Cantrell had moved
forward, blocking Muriel's view of Lord Marsdon's reply. A roar of laughter followed.
"They're making bets on who wins Lady Augusta's
hand? How can you know that's what they are saying?"
Young Mr. Lloyd appeared affronted at the conversation and, it seemed, he refused to believe it.
"I observe them speaking, how they form the words
with their mouths. I watch them and I know what they
are saying."
"Is it possible?" Mr. Lloyd stared at Muriel. "Can
you really do such a thing?"
"Not only can I do it, Mr. Lloyd, but I do it well. Why
don't you join the gentlemen below and have a word
with your brother and see if that is not what nefarious
activity they have chosen to occupy their time."
Mr. Lloyd straightened and it seemed he was plucking up the nerve to do just as she suggested.
"My father will certainly give birth to a
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