“He was sensible enough to send for an early carriage back to Bath-Spa,” she replied, shaking her head. “When Caroline returned to school after Christmas, she toldeveryoneI’d tried to escape my station by seducing a man above my means, and that I should never be trusted because I would surely try it again someday. She would hiss in whispers as I’d pass that it was disgraceful that I could ever believe someone like myself worthy of a man of such genteel standing as a future chaplain to a duke. The other girls were happy to sing along to her tune.”
Ambrose felt his jaw creak without even realizing he had been gnashing his teeth together. He forced them apart, the muscle in the base of his jaw jumping in protest.
“So you see,” she said with a smile, “she is likely at home tonight, reckoning with the fact that I did indeed step outside my station again, and this time I did so well beyond the scope of her little parson and his aspirations. The next time she sees me, she will be forced to call me Lady Aster.”
“You did not go far enough,” he said, surprised at the depth of his rage. He wasn’t even convinced he was capable of real, righteous anger when he awoke this morning. “You were merciful.”
She gave a wry little shake of her head. “Do you know that she sends me a Christmas card every year? They always say the same thing:Remembering the important lessons of the Christmas season.Yours, Caroline Redwynne. Every year. Without fail. She started doing it while we were still in school.”
“I can have her father dismissed,” Ambrose said darkly. “I can ensure her husband never finds station in my family’s home.”
“Yes,” said Vix happily. “You can. And she knows that. She will have to worry about it every day now, for the rest of her life. Goodness, but I ought to have invited her to the wedding for good measure.”
“There’s still time,” he replied, “but I’d prefer not to have to punch a man on my wedding day.”
“Oh, my sweet Ambrose,” she said, fluttering her lashes. “I hear you’re very fond of punching from time to time.”
He paused, confusion stuttering into bashful surprise. “Hannah?” he said, coloring.
She nodded.
“Well, look,” he said, opening his hands and shrugging. “Before you, I didn’t have much in the way of stimulation. That actually leads well into my tale of woe.”
“Your tale of heroic knighthood, you mean?” she asked, leaning back in the chair with a feline little smile.
“Woe,” he agreed, nodding. “Though I’m afraid the whole thing feels a bit flaccid now in comparison to yours.”
“Too bad,” she said with a shrug. “Speak.”
“My story is also at Christmas,” he said with a sigh, running his hand through his hair, pulling all its careful styling free as he ruffled it under his fingers. “This last one. I had nothing to do with myself and there was a party at a manor just outside of the city, some pompous, intolerable thing that was only slightly better than sitting at home and staring at a wall, so I went.”
“You poor thing,” she cooed.
He frowned at her, dropping his hand in his lap, hair falling down over his brow. He leaned toward her, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Did they teach sarcasm at that fancy school of yours, young lady?”
“Oh, they did,” she answered. “But only once Teddy started paying full tuition. I was given access to all manner of delicious new lessons.”
“Like learning new lessons, do you?” he asked, plucking at the satin folds of her skirt, running the fabric between his fingers.
She hesitated, the little muscles on her throat flexing. “Your story,” she reminded him thinly, making him chuckle.
He let the satin drip through his fingers, watching it fall, and sighed at the loss. “It was Christmas Eve. I’d won four hands of cards that night. I’d found a damned pearl in my oyster at dinner. I’d batted offtwowomen trying to sneak into my bed. I wanted nothing more than to lie there, stare at the wallpaper, and cease to exist.”
“Yes, all of that sounds very terrible,” she tutted, conveying her lack of sympathy with pinpricks of venom in her voice.
“Do not patronize me,” he moaned. “You don’t understand the pain of a total lack of friction until you’ve experienced it. Imagine being blind and deaf and floating in water with no temperature. Life should feel like something. There should beeffortof some sort, shouldn’t there?”
“Ambrose,” she said, tilting her head. “This is why men try to punch you.”
“Yes, I know,” he replied with a frown. “Anyway. I was in my borrowed room in this ridiculous mansion, lying on the eiderdown, staring at the ceiling, wondering why my life felt like nothing and trying to suffer in peace when Zeller came barreling in, shouting in his accent about a fire.Zer is a fire. We must go.Et cetera. I told him I was busy, but he would not piss off.”
“How dare he?” she wondered mildly.
“I know,” he said with a shake of his head. “I even tried to put the pillow over my face, but he actually tried to pull me bodily from the bed, making bombastic German noises until I finally agreed to stand and leave of my own accord. By then, I could smell the smoke, so I suppose he had a point.”
“Mm,” she said dispassionately, winning a little sidelong glare from him.
“Anyway, once we got out into the hall, there was quite a lot of heat and haze, and it was hard to see. We were bent at the waist, waddling toward the exit like a pair of fools, when I noticed an old man going in the wrong direction. All I did”—he paused, his eyes widening for emphasis”—all I didwas reach out and turn him about in the correct direction, then give him a nudge toward the door. The bloody bastard was some dignitary from the Home Office. As soon as we got outside, he collapsed at my feet and thanked me for saving his bloody life.”
