He began to speak, then clearly thought better of it. “Not always, I grant you, but may I point out that I am not the enemy?”
That was a just reprimand. She’d almost lost her temper there, over nothing.
“I apologize.”
“But you enjoyed that.”
She almost protested, but he was right. “Your turn to be shrewd? True, it’s been some time since I’ve felt able to let rip.”
“You didn’t fight with Lady Cateril?”
“How could I? She was deep in genuine grief.”
“So, perhaps, is the dowager Viscountess Dauntry.”
“Is she?”
“In one sense, yes. But it’s a grief that leads to war.”
Kitty moved toward the desk, curious about the papers there and what they would tell her about her husband, but realized in time that it would be nosy. She turned back. “Should I not meet her soon?”
“A delicate question. Would you wish to be presented to her for approval?”
“No.”
“Thus, not yet.”
“And Isabella?”
“Will be taking her cue from her grandmother. I could summon her.”
“To be presented to me for approval? Not the best approach.”
“No. The dowager uses Isabella as a foot soldier. A reluctance to harm foot soldiers can lose a war.”
She considered him. “Yet you are reluctant. I find that admirable.”
“Despite her attack on you?”
“It was a feeble sortie. Is she a resolute foot soldier?”
“A shot over her head usually sends her in retreat.”
“Poor girl. Can her allegiance be changed?”
“I hope you can find a way.”
She supposed that was part of her duties.
“As for warfare,” he said, “if you need a sturdy sparring partner, I’m unlikely to bleed.”
“But you could be bruised. Will you take offense?”
“No.”
They were on an edge again, in danger of losing balance. “Didn’t you mention coffee?” she asked.
“I did. I take it dark and sweet, in the Turkish style. How would you like yours?”
