That tartness entered her voice once more, and he didn’t have to have the ability to determine its exact implication to feel the sting of it. “It’s quite simple to speak proper English when one is, in fact, English.”
Liar. He didn’t know why it fascinated him quite as much as it did. “I’ve offended you again,” he said. “I’m sorry. I only meant—”
“To proposition me for an affair,” she said. “Which I must decline, as…delightful as your offer was.”Damn. She was walking away again, and he had only a minute, perhaps less, at their current rate of speed before she would make the doors of her club and disappear within it.
“Tell me your name, at least,” he said.
“You already know it. It’s Madame Laurent.” The words emerged between her teeth as if she had chewed them thoroughly before spitting them out.
“I doubt very much whether or not Laurent is truly your surname, but I was referring to your given name.”
“It’s Jenny. Good old EnglishJenny.”
He would have bet every last shilling of his considerable fortune that it wasn’t. “It doesn’t suit you. I imagined something softer, like Sophie, perhaps. Or Juliette.” The line of her jaw was tense, taut. She was annoyed. “Yvette? Marie?”
“Frenchnames, you mean to say.”
“That goes without saying. YouareFrench.”
A garbled little sound of irritation clawed itself free of her throat. The cadence of her steps changed from merelyswifttodetermined. She turned, just before the little alcove which sheltered the door of her club. “Good day, Mr. Knight,” she said with a decisive little nod of her head, and swept inside without so much as a backward glance.
And then she was gone. But Sebastian had learned something valuable, at least.
ShewasFrench—and for some strange, unknown reason, she didn’t want anyone to know it. And he didn’t think it had anything at all to do with Napoleon.
∞∞∞
“Well,” said Harriet, from her seat on the couch in Ambrosia’s office, “are you considering it?”
“Are youmad?” Jenny returned. “Of course I am not considering it! I can’t have anaffair.”
“Whyever not?” asked Lottie. “You’re a widow. So long as you’re discreet, no one will think anything of it. Do try this, it’s delicious.” She pressed a little bowl filled with ice cream into Jenny’s hands.
Jenny flounced into a chair with a pout, and she dug the spoon into the vibrant pink ice cream contained within. She pulled a face when she popped the creamy confection into her mouth. “Currant,” she said. “Not my favorite.”
“Truly?” Lottie made a little grabbing motion with her hands. “Give it back then; I love it. What?” she said, frowning, as Jenny and Harriet gazed on wordlessly as she demolished the remainder of the bowl. “I’m with child, and I tell you that this baby wants ice cream.”
Harriet cleared her throat delicately. “Yes, well, with as quickly as you’ve gone through it, I wonder if you should not be considering the possibility of twins.”
Lottie choked, shooting Harriet a quelling glance. “Bite your tongue,” she said. “I have no idea how I am going to manageonebaby, much less two.”
But there was no doubt she was looking forward to the prospect. Lottie was just four months along, but already her waist had thickened considerably. Currently it could be disguised by clever cuts of gowns, and Jenny was certain she could assist her friend in keeping it hidden from the public eye for quite a few more months longer. But eventually Lottie would have to go into confinement, and they all knew that she was not looking forward tothatbit.
“Mr. Knight, did you say?” Lottie asked, taking a sip of her tea. “I think I might have a passing acquaintance with him. He’s a queer sort of fellow?”
To say the least—imagine, propositioning a woman on the street! “He moves in your circles, then?” Lottie, Lady Clybourne, and Harriet, Lady Livingston, were both prominent members of theTon—and if Mr. Knight had any sort of acquaintance with them, then it stood to reason that his family was, if not noble, at leastaffluent.
“I think so—but notwillingly, if I had to make a guess. That is to say, I don’t believe he enjoys social occasions quite as much as one would expect.” She gave a little laugh as her hands curled around her cup. “As I recall, I attempted to make polite conversation with him, as one does.Lovely weather we’re having, I think I said. And do you know what he replied?”
Jenny tilted her head in inquiry.
Lottie pitched her voice to a low inflection to approximate a man’s, and said, “Yes; I too am experiencing it.”
Harriet tipped back her head and laughed. “What an unusual man,” she said.
“He was annoyed, I think, that I had intruded upon his solitude. I don’t think he has much use for conversation—at least not conversation that conforms to the strictures of society. He gave me a bit of a lecture on the pointlessness of remarking upon the weather when it was clear to anyone present that it was, indeed, fair, thus negating any sort of need to mention it.” Lottie gave an amused little shake of her head, and passed Jenny a fresh cup of tea. “And you saythiswas the man who propositioned you? I would never have expected it.”
“Yes. But I don’t think he intended to offend, precisely,” Jenny said, uncertain why, exactly, she had been moved to rise to his defense. “The truth is, while his methods were…unorthodox, his logic was—largely sound.” A bittoosound for her taste. Though he’d drawn some erroneous conclusions and had fallen victim to specious reasoning, hehadbeen correct about certain things.
