She beamed at him.
“I should call that a decideddisadvantage,” said Winterton.
Before Marchmont could lunge across the table and strangle Zoe, her mother rose. The other ladies instantly heeded the signal and followed her out of the room, leaving the men to their port…and mayhem and murder if they so chose.
One hour later
“‘Remembered an appointment,’” said Adderwood as he followed Marchmont into the drawing room. “You sly devil. She’s the peach.”
Adderwood was still alive. Marchmont wasn’t sure why.
Oh, yes. Because she wanted to meet other men, and how could she meet them if Marchmont killed them? However, she’d met Adderwood this evening. Technically, it would be all right to kill him.
Later, though. Mustn’t get blood all over the drawing room.
“Appointment,” he repeated blankly. “The peach.”
“The girl in the antiquated hackney,” said Adderwood. “The girl you chased into the Green Park. The girl who pulled the boy out of the smashed carriage. The girl who threw the book at you. All those stories we heard and couldn’t believe. The ones you never actually confirmed or denied.”
“Oh, that peach,” said Marchmont.
“It’s all clear now. Of course you knew her the instant you clapped eyes on her. She hasn’t really changed, has she? That is to say, she’s grown up and grown beautiful. It’s a good thing you’re so constantly besieged by beauties that you’re immune.”
“A good thing, yes.”
“I am not, however. Had I undertaken the task of launching her into Society, I couldn’t possibly have remained aloof. I should have offered for her instantly, to make sure no one else got a chance.”
Marchmont looked back longingly at the door leading out of the drawing room. “Why did we leave the dining room so quickly?” he said. “I wasn’t done drinking.”
“You’re bored, I know,” said Adderwood. “Bored with us. We’re all so proper, trying to make a good impression on Miss Lexham.”
“A good impression—onZoe?”
“I know. Everyone supposed it was to be the other way about: Could the exotic creature meet the standards of English Society? There are bets on at White’s. But that’s no surprise to you.”
“Everyone is so predictable,” said Marchmont.
“Indeed we are. And now she’s turned the tables, and we’re all falling all over ourselves trying to meet her standards.”
That would be me, Marchmont thought.I’m the standard.Because she hadn’t met other men.
He had the unpleasant suspicion that he’d set the standard too low.
“It’s a great bore for you, I know,” said Adderwood. “As silly as watching everyone chase after Harriette Wilson a few years ago. No, sillier, because this time it’s a lady and we must be on our good behavior. Poor Marchmont, what a martyr you are. I don’t blame you for wanting another bottle—or another dozen. But I know you well, and I can see you’re rapidly approaching the point where you start quoting Shakespeare and falling into the fire. Either you must begin drinking tea or we must make our excuses.”
“Tea?” Marchmont said. “I’d rather hang. I donotspout Shakespeare when I’m in my cups.”
“Always,” said Adderwood. “Henry IV, usually.”
“Oh, that. ‘I know you all, and will awhile uphold the unyoked humor—’”
“Uphold yourself for a bit, there’s a good fellow,” said Adderwood. “It’ll be over soon. She’ll be off your hands in no time, and wed before the Season ends.”
Marchmont’s gaze went across the room, to where Zoe sat with Amelia Adderwood and the indigent cousin, the three of them giggling.
“If she takes—as it appears she’ll do—I wager she’ll have her pick of suitors,” Adderwood said.
“Suitors, undoubtedly,” said Marchmont. “Whether any succeed is another matter entirely.”
