Her eyes involuntarily wandered to Kit again for help.
Immediately understanding her predicament, he unobtrusively lifted the tongs, clamped them together and showed her how to lift the snail. Then he lifted the two-pronged fork and dug into the snail, pulling out the flesh.
Mira imitated him.
Blast the man, but the two of them had always had an uncanny ability to communicate without words, as if they could read each other's minds.
Kit knew full well she was blistering cross and ready to cut him to shreds. So he respectfully let her stew in her own thoughts and made no attempt to speak to her. One word from him and she'd dump the foie gras on his head, regardless of whether the whole table was watching.
She had to grudgingly admit, however, that his table manners had improved nicely. The boy she'd known had mostly preferred to eat with his hands, both elbows propped on the table as he bit into a piece of Cornish pasty. He'd also liked to talk with his mouth full. Now, he handled the silverware dexterously, and raised a glass of white wine between two fingers before taking a lazy sip. Zounds, if he didn't behave like the lord of the manor.
But then he'd had seven years of practice at playing the lord, eating escargots and caviar, while she'd had to eat poor man's bread in the workhouse for the first few weeks after arriving in London.
Her eyes darkened again at the memory.
"Miss Taylor?" That was the duke again. "Your face looked unexpectedly grim, so I enquired whether the escargots have fallen in your disfavour."
"It is not the snails that are in my disfavour, Your Grace," she informed him, glaring at Atherton.
The duke coughed. "Ah, yes. Understandable, on some level." He bowed his head and lowered his voice. "Before making further judgements, however, would it not be conducive to reason to hear out the culprit?"
Mira looked at him in surprise. Had he just tried to put in a good word for Kit?
She narrowed her eyes.
Without waiting for her reply, the duke picked up his champagne goblet. "Atherton. What do you say, is an announcement in order?"
Atherton put down his cutlery with a clatter. "Indeed," he replied coolly. "Let's not waste any more time. There is no point." He raised his voice as he addressed everyone in the room. "As surely many of you have ascertained, there has been an unexpected development in my personal life lately."
He turned to Mira and firmly locked eyes with her.
"I am delighted to present my wife, the Marchioness of Atherton."
ChapterFourteen
"I am not his wife!"Mira insisted for the hundredth time.
But no one listened to her.
They were in the library, and everyone stood about the room, talking simultaneously, ignoring her.
After the announcement, chaos had broken out at the supper table, with everyone attempting to congratulate them. Then the polite order of things had gone completely awry. The next course was skipped and pudding to be served in the salon. While the ladies retired there, Kit had taken Mira firmly by the elbow and whisked her out of the room to the library, where she'd attempted to box him in the chin in the manner he once taught her, but knowing her all too well, he'd anticipated her intention and ducked in time.
"Have you completely lost your mind?" Mira hissed at him.
"You can punch me later, my love. It was necessary. Sit here. Let's discuss this." He pressed her onto the sofa.
"I am not your love." She crossed her arms with a mulish expression on her face.
"You are and always will be, but we will discuss this later," he'd replied, leaving her fumbling for an answer.
Then Aldingbourne, Lindenstein, and Princess Florentina entered. After some argument with Aldingbourne, Evie and Rose joined them.
"I insist that I not be excluded now of all times," Evie declared. "After all, it was I who first saw Mirabel at the opera. I shall be there to watch the drama until the end. Sit here beside me, Rose." She patted the seat beside her. "Let the final act begin."
Princess Florentina said, "Mind you, it is not at all the thing to leave our guests unattended, but finding a solution to this matter is more urgent. Atherton, you sprang this on us rather hastily, I must say. I expected you to make the announcement at the ball, but what is done is done. We must revise the plan and discuss the next steps on how to launch the marchioness into society."
Marchioness? Mira had the vague notion that they were talking about her, but the cogs in her brains had stopped functioning after Kit had made that preposterous announcement.
