He smiled but did not feel joy in it. "They parted quickly. A prank tore them apart."
She froze, a look of despair crossing her features. "No, no.”
”My friend suffered wounds at Quatre Bras and was sent home to recover. He lives in seclusion. And in anger."
She paused before the doors to the orangery. "Another issue to be solved here," she murmured and made no sense to him. “Another mess.”
He pulled open the doors, led her inside and closed them. “A mess? Nigh unto a tragedy, it is. You’re not pretending with me, are you?"
She gasped. "No!"
"Six years ago in London, you didn't pretend to care for me?"
"Pretend? No! I thought you the most charming creature."
"You promised to meet me in Green Park the next afternoon."
"I was there!"
He shook his head. "I never saw you."
"Of course you didn't!"
"Now you make no sense, Fifi."
"Ohhh! I thought you were another man. I looked for him!"
"What? Who?" he demanded.
"That does not matter!" But the expression on her face said it had mattered and she was sorry it had.
"It matters to me, Fee."
"Oh! You wore a mask that night. A rather large one! I remembered your hair and your mouth. But it was dark in that ballroom."
"And in the card room too where you won my two hundred pounds?"
"Yes! Fairly! I won that money fairly. You, dear man,"—she pushed a finger into his chest—"are an incompetent card player."
"I know that!"
"Oh, I must sit down." She clomped across the tiled floor. "Ahh. There. Better. Yes, that night I did not have a clear view of you."
He followed her, bewildered. "We sat across from each other. I kissed you!"
"Yes! And I wear glasses for a reason, sir!"
"Really?" He snorted. "When? They are off more than on!"
She ground her teeth. ”I wear them often!"
"So you're blind?"
Fifi grumbled. "Not entirely. But...yes!"
"Howcan you play cards if you can't see?Whyplay cards if you can't see without your glasses?"
She mashed her lips together.
