“A shrewdness of schoolteachers,” he said triumphantly. “We areneglecting our guests, my dear.”
Beth became aware of the five young men watching them with variousdegrees of astonishment. For a few moments she had forgotten hercircumstances and discovered something precious. She could not remembermatching her wits like that before and it was a heady delight. She flasheda quick, self-conscious look at the marquess and met a similar one of hisown. He, too, had been surprised.
It was Viscount Amleigh who stepped into the silence. “You’d need avery special word. Miss Armitage, to describe the hunting beasts ofAlmack’s.”
Beth smiled at the handsome young man who had doubtless been pursuedthere with great determination. “A militia of mamas?” she offered.
“A desperation of debutantes,” was the marquess’s dry contribution. “Ithink we should stop, Elizabeth, or we’ll get an unconquerable reputationfor bookishness.” He turned to his friends. “I didn’t bring you three hereto enjoy yourselves, you know. You’re supposed to be lessening thedesperation of some of the local debutantes. You, too, Pedersby, SirVincent.”
The men good-humoredly took their marching orders and went off to payaddresses to the young ladies sitting quietly with their parents.
Still relaxed from that exchange of wit, Beth grew careless. “Do youregret your bachelorhood, my lord?”
He looked down at her coolly. “What has that to say to anything? I donot blame you for our situation.” There was a slight emphasis on thepronouns.
Forgetting where they were., Beth felt anger boil in her again. “Well?”
She gasped as her elbow was taken in a vicelike grip and pain shot upher arm. She found herself in a chair.
“You are unwell, Elizabeth?” asked the marquess kindly.
The duchess hurried over. “Is something the matter, my dears?”
Beth shook her head, hiding her shock. “Not at all,” she said. “I felta sudden pain,” she glanced up at the cool eyes of her betrothed, “... from my ankle. Isprained it last year and it sometimes betrays me.”
“I hope it will not prevent you from dancing, Elizabeth,” said theduchess.
Beth stood. “Oh no, Your Grace. It was the marquess’s excessiveconcern,” she said, “that forced me to sit in the first place.”
She flashed a look at him and realized they were back into conflictagain. At that moment the meal was announced and, as it was a betrothalevent, Beth had to place her hand on his arm and lead the procession tothe formal dining room.
“What a remarkable liar you are,” he said with cool admiration.
“Yes, aren’t I?” replied Beth, too angered by that moment of brutaldominance to choose her words.
They went ten steps in silence and she could not resist the urge tolook over at him.
His lips were tight and his eyes cool. “Yes, it was unwise, wasn’t it?If you fight me, Elizabeth, you will lose and be hurt into the bargain.You can hardly expect me to be concerned about your sensibilities.”
“What happened to our truce?” she asked with quiet intensity.
“It holds as long as you behave yourself.”
Beth bit back angry words and faced forward again. Her situation, shethought bitterly, reminded her of a forlorn hope, when soldiers facingdefeat without chance of survival, charged bravely, foolhardily, at theenemy. She could be compliant and enslaved, or she could fight and bedefeated.
She could at least die with honor. A flaming row was out of thequestion and so, as they took their seats, she took up more subtleweapons. “I promise,” she said sweetly, “to be exactly the kind of brideyou deserve, oh noble one.”
The marquess, after a brief startled moment, assumed a similarloverlike manner, raised her hand, and placed a warm and lingering kissupon it. A ripple of laughter and sentimental looks greeted this actionand set the tone for the meal.
“ ‘Use every man after his desert,’ ” he murmured, “ ‘and who shouldescape whipping?’ ”
Beth raised her brows. “I do not recollect any member of the peeragebeing tickled at the cart’s tail recently. And yet,” she continuedamiably, “doesn’t the Bible say, ‘Whatsoever a man soweth, so shall hereap’?”
“But I’m a lily of the field,” he countered. “I neither sow norreap.”
“Aha!” she exclaimed. “You’ve mixed your verses, my lord. The lilies ofthe field toil not, neither do they spin. It’s the fowls of the air who donot sow and reap. I thought,” she queried gently, “you did not wish to beconsidered any species of fowl.”
“Very clever,” he said with a smile which acknowledged her victory. Butthen his smile became a triumphant grin and Beth waited warily. “And soyou reduce me to a cock? Unwary lady ...”
