“Well, of course, Lord Darius,” said the young lady blandly. “Theywould be fortunate not to be dismissed.”
Lord Darius looked at her. “When it was all the fault of someprankster?”
“My mama,” stated Miss Swinnamer, “says servants cannot be allowed tomake excuses for poor performance or they will be forever shirking.” Shelooked around and perhaps detected disapproval in the group. “Themischief-maker, of course, deserves a sound whipping.”
“My dear Phoebe,” drawled the marquess, “are you expressing a desire towhip me?”
Poor Phoebe had clearly lost track of the origins of the conversation.She merely gaped while others hid smiles with greater or lessersuccess.
Beth decided to intervene. “As I understand it,” she said, “the offensehas already been adequately punished. I approve of the duke’s disciplinarymeasures. It is my belief that corporal punishment rarely achievesanything except to brutalize.”
The marquess looked at Lord Darius and Mr. Beaumont. “I think she’scalling us brutes,” he said. He glanced sideways at Beth. “Probablybaboons.”
“Baboons?” they queried in unison.
Beth could feel the color in her face, but she frowned severely at themarquess. “Lord Arden is funning. I merely point out that children learnright from wrong more clearly if their fault is explained to them than ifthey are hit.”
The marquess grinned. “Did I neglect to mention the whipping? But theexplanation was very thorough, too. I think we’re going to fight over theraising of our children, my dear.”
The mere thought of children was enough to have Beth turn to Mr.Beaumont in search of a safer topic. “I think I will need ammunition. Whatwas the dreadful secret you were going to impart, sir?”
The man smiled. “Why, the one he has kept hidden most carefully,” hesaid. “Though I am not sure how you will find a way to use it, I am sureif anyone can it will be you.” He cast a mock-wary glance at his friend,who was sharing a joke with Lord Darius, then lowered his voice to aconspiratorial whisper. “He was brilliant,” he murmured. “Quite the beststudent in our form.”
After a startled moment, Beth chuckled. “I admit, I had begun tosuspect. . . . But why keep it secret?”
“Good God, ma’am, you can’t be serious! Be known as a scholar? It wasjust a temporary lapse of judgment due to inexperience. By the time wewent on to Cambridge he was wiser and managed to survive his years therewithout drawing attention to himself.”
Beth was about to protest this insanity, but she saw there was a strongelement of truth in it and shook her head. “And you, Mr. Beaumont? Wereyou an intellectual prodigy?”
“Not at all,” he assured her earnestly, yet with a twinkle ofamusement. “Straight down the middle. Give you my word, MissArmitage.”
“And what have you done with your middling abilities, Mr. Beaumont?”Beth queried, knowing this man was no dullard.
“A very ordinary time in the army, Miss Armitage.”
“And that’s a lie,” said the marquess, entering the conversation again;Beth suspected he’d been monitoring it. “Reached the rank of major, thoughhe chooses not to use it now. Mentioned in dispatches so often the HorseGuards were tired of hearing his name ?”
“Weren’t we all?” broke in Mr. Beaumont hastily. “Have to be dashedunlucky in a war not to be noticed now and then.”
“Let this be a lesson to you, Hal,” said the marquess, and Beth knew hewas referring to the spilling of secrets, not the war.
“Point taken,” said Mr. Beaumont. “But I don’t think Miss Armitage willtake it amiss that you like to use your brain.”
The marquess looked at Beth thoughtfully. “I wonder. Being very cleverherself, she might have thought to outsmart me now and then.”
Beth colored at this piece of perception. “I still do expect that,” shesaid saucily. “Now and then.”
“A challenge!” said Mr. Beaumont. “I wouldn’t care to lay odds on thewinner either.”
“I would,” said Miss Swinnamer complacently with a malicious glance atBeth. “Mama says a lady never wins by besting a gentleman inanything.”
“Well, Miss Swinnamer,” said Beth politely. “I am sure it is a pleasureto us all to know you will never cause your Mama any anxiety in thatregard.”
The marquess choked on a mouthful of wine. The beauty was stillpuzzling over the strange remark when the marquess and Beth left thetable.
“When I think I was close to offering for her, I shudder,” he said,still fighting laughter.
“Why were you going to offer for someone with whom you have so littlein common?”
