late to
Carlton House, but there is no help for it. I do hope you
appreciate the effort, Ashley. I could have destroyed that girl,
you know.”
“I know, Beau,” Avanoll allowed, passing over
the blatant lie of a dinner invitation to Carlton House when Beau
and Prinney hadn’t been on speaking terms for over a year, “and I
repeat my thanks. Add a new rig-out to your wardrobe and send the
bills to me.”
“Yes, yes, of course, dear fellow,” the Beau
said as he raised a scented handkerchief to his delicate nostrils,
so urgent his need to be shed of the Duke that he overlooked his
immaculate attire being called a rig-out, of all things. “Be off
with you now.” As Avanoll turned to go the Beau ventured, “I
wonder, Avanoll. Do we cut Jillson next time we meet, just to lend
credence to our little drama?”
The Duke gave a short laugh “I doubt the
need. By tea time today the story will be all over the city, only
it will be three dogs, all prime specimens, and Jillson will have
been discovered skulking near the scene of the crime with at least
one pitiable carcass at his feet and blood on his hands. No, I
wager he will find it convenient to rusticate for a few weeks.
Although I have no doubt Society will bear up well in his absence,
as he always was a bit of a queer touch anyway. You and I both know
it won’t be long until another scandal will be found to dull the
memory of his infamous deed.”
“Would you care to wager another suit of
clothes your dear cousin is involved in the next scandal, too?” the
Beau teased.
The smile vanished from Avanoll’s face. “I
never bet on sure things,” he bit out, and strode purposefully over
to Tansy—and made to pull her unceremoniously away from four or
five young bloods vying for her attention, to the extent of
dirtying their lily-white hands applying affectionate pats on
Horatio’s toad-eating head.
Once Tansy was again seated beside him the
Duke yanked the reins from Leo’s hands, causing the man’s broadly
grinning face to rearrange itself into a suitably solemn,
commiserating expression.
Tansy, however, was heady with her success
and totally oblivious to the fact that the man riding next to her
was ready to do murder. She chattered on about how terribly natural
and unaffected Society people were, and how she had been so silly
to have reservations about her eventual acceptance into their
circle. She may even have been allowed to cling to this bit of
naiveté, as the Duke was too overset to push a single sound past
his lips, if not for Horatio.
It seems the animal had taken umbrage at the
Duke’s presence once he espied it, and immediately became quite
vocal in his anxiety to have the offending person take himself
off.
“Isn’t that cute, cousin?” Tansy laughed
delightedly. “Horatio recognizes you and associates you with his
dunk in the lake. I really believe the poor misguided darling would
nip you if I were but to loosen my grip a bit.”
That tore it. His grace was cold, wet,
humiliated, his thumb was throbbing, and he was probably in the
early stages of pneumonia. Suddenly the words came quite easily, if
they were only a touch difficult to understand—a pardonable offense
when one is speaking through clenched jaws.
“Well, isn’t Horatio darling just too, too
amusing, Miss Tamerlane? But I must caution you not to loose your
grip as I have already lost mine—on my sanity. I see no other
reason I can sit here and listen to you babbling inanely on about
your social coup, as if it were not the second worst disaster in
history. You were only saved from stares, insults, and possibly
even your very own straight waistcoat for your ride to Bedlam, by
my quick thinking.”
Tansy was finally forced to take the time to
look at her cousin, and herself, and was prone to admit they did
make a rather odd pair—driving through London in sopping wet,
uncomfortable, and slightly offensive-to-the-nose clothing—the duke
appearing disheveled, but still very
Carlton House, but there is no help for it. I do hope you
appreciate the effort, Ashley. I could have destroyed that girl,
you know.”
“I know, Beau,” Avanoll allowed, passing over
the blatant lie of a dinner invitation to Carlton House when Beau
and Prinney hadn’t been on speaking terms for over a year, “and I
repeat my thanks. Add a new rig-out to your wardrobe and send the
bills to me.”
“Yes, yes, of course, dear fellow,” the Beau
said as he raised a scented handkerchief to his delicate nostrils,
so urgent his need to be shed of the Duke that he overlooked his
immaculate attire being called a rig-out, of all things. “Be off
with you now.” As Avanoll turned to go the Beau ventured, “I
wonder, Avanoll. Do we cut Jillson next time we meet, just to lend
credence to our little drama?”
The Duke gave a short laugh “I doubt the
need. By tea time today the story will be all over the city, only
it will be three dogs, all prime specimens, and Jillson will have
been discovered skulking near the scene of the crime with at least
one pitiable carcass at his feet and blood on his hands. No, I
wager he will find it convenient to rusticate for a few weeks.
Although I have no doubt Society will bear up well in his absence,
as he always was a bit of a queer touch anyway. You and I both know
it won’t be long until another scandal will be found to dull the
memory of his infamous deed.”
“Would you care to wager another suit of
clothes your dear cousin is involved in the next scandal, too?” the
Beau teased.
The smile vanished from Avanoll’s face. “I
never bet on sure things,” he bit out, and strode purposefully over
to Tansy—and made to pull her unceremoniously away from four or
five young bloods vying for her attention, to the extent of
dirtying their lily-white hands applying affectionate pats on
Horatio’s toad-eating head.
Once Tansy was again seated beside him the
Duke yanked the reins from Leo’s hands, causing the man’s broadly
grinning face to rearrange itself into a suitably solemn,
commiserating expression.
Tansy, however, was heady with her success
and totally oblivious to the fact that the man riding next to her
was ready to do murder. She chattered on about how terribly natural
and unaffected Society people were, and how she had been so silly
to have reservations about her eventual acceptance into their
circle. She may even have been allowed to cling to this bit of
naiveté, as the Duke was too overset to push a single sound past
his lips, if not for Horatio.
It seems the animal had taken umbrage at the
Duke’s presence once he espied it, and immediately became quite
vocal in his anxiety to have the offending person take himself
off.
“Isn’t that cute, cousin?” Tansy laughed
delightedly. “Horatio recognizes you and associates you with his
dunk in the lake. I really believe the poor misguided darling would
nip you if I were but to loosen my grip a bit.”
That tore it. His grace was cold, wet,
humiliated, his thumb was throbbing, and he was probably in the
early stages of pneumonia. Suddenly the words came quite easily, if
they were only a touch difficult to understand—a pardonable offense
when one is speaking through clenched jaws.
“Well, isn’t Horatio darling just too, too
amusing, Miss Tamerlane? But I must caution you not to loose your
grip as I have already lost mine—on my sanity. I see no other
reason I can sit here and listen to you babbling inanely on about
your social coup, as if it were not the second worst disaster in
history. You were only saved from stares, insults, and possibly
even your very own straight waistcoat for your ride to Bedlam, by
my quick thinking.”
Tansy was finally forced to take the time to
look at her cousin, and herself, and was prone to admit they did
make a rather odd pair—driving through London in sopping wet,
uncomfortable, and slightly offensive-to-the-nose clothing—the duke
appearing disheveled, but still very
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