He was also rather surprised that she consented to touch him. Her glove was kid, not silk, and not new, but well-mended. The mystery of Lucasta Lithwick deepened.
The German Gorgon made a comment in Greek, and Lucasta smiled. “If I do not find it a reward,” she said, “it is because we know Achilles sails with the Greeks, so he and Iphigenia are not likely to enjoy marital bliss. Furthermore, he will sulk in his tent after Agamemnon steals Briseis from him, and then return to battle only to kill Hector, who is the one character in all of Western literature whom Minnie devotedly loves.”
She might as well be speaking Greek to Jem for all he understood these names. “I’m not familiar with the story,” he said.
One of those cinnamon eyebrows arched. “You’ve not read theIliad? I thought everyone had to read it at school.”
Everyone who achieved an education beyond a few years at the dame school around the corner most likely did. Certainly boys sent to public school or taught by private tutors. Jem never had those advantages, and now he had betrayed himself to Miss Lithwick, who already saw him as nothing but a popinjay.
“Well, I like the happier ending,” said the knight’s daughter.
“I favor the original,” Lucasta responded, as they descended the stairs and processed through the elegant foyer to the cloakroom so the gents could retrieve their overcoats and the ladies their wraps. “Euripides gives Iphigenia’s sacrifice meaning. She persuades Achilles not to fight Agamemnon for her, and she chooses to sacrifice herself so the Greeks may go to war and avenge the insult to their honor. She submits to the decision of the gods and she gives her life for her country and her ideals. There’s something very noble in that.”
Jem helped settle her cape around Miss Lithwick’s shoulders. It was a functional garment of felted wool, rust-colored and well-brushed, ornamented with dark braid running along the selvage. He would like to see her wrapped in rich silks.
“All the same, you wouldn’t turn down marriage to Achilles,” he said dryly.
What girl would? This season, every debutante’s mama had invited Jem to her come-out, and every papa dropped a hint to Jem about how much her settlement would be. The desperation to find a suitable marriage was why Bertie was painting unhappy fruit, waiting until the moment she could be turned loose again into society.
It was the future that his sister Judith would never be offered, no matter how rich, admired, or titled Jem became.
“Wouldn’t I?” Miss Lithwick turned her face up to his as they stood outside the theater before the long queue of coaches. The night shadows darkened her eyes, while the torches caught the gold in their depths. “Achilles in theIliadis petulant and cruel. He is given great gifts, his mother’s entire devotion, and he behaves without honor. I think I would rather be carried to the heavens in Diana’s chariot.”
“Indeed? Then that puts you in the minority of women of my acquaintance.”
“This is us,” the German girl said offhandedly as a black lacquered coach rolled up, a florid coat of arms on the door. “I apologize, gentlemen, that we don’t have the seats to offer you a ride home.”
“We could find a light supper somewhere,” Jem suggested, and was surprised to hear himself do so. “Ham at Vauxhall. Or there might be something at Ranelagh tonight.”
The girls exchanged a glance without speaking. “It is near midnight,” Miss Lithwick remarked. That seemed to mean something to them, though to young fashionable gents,midnight marked the beginning of a night’s revelries. Midnight often meant fireworks at one of the pleasure gardens. At balls, suppers were held at midnight, with dancing to continue to the wee hours.
But the Gorgons were clearly for home. Miss Lithwick raised the hood of her cape and settled it over her pert little cap, taking care not to crush the feather.
“Thank you for the use of your theater box, Lord Rudyard,” she said with a formal politeness. “That was quite generous of you, an unlooked-for courtesy.”
“I am at your service, Miss Lithwick. And I enjoyed the evening more than I expected.” What he meant was, he’d enjoyed partaking in her pleasure. When was the last time he’d discussed Greek literature or opera with a woman? Never, that was when.
Her arched brows rose in a curious, imperious look. “Would you go so far as to find itfascinating? How fortunate for us, then.”
“Touché, Miss Lithwick,” he murmured.
He ought to have remembered she was waiting for an opportunity to depress his pretensions. Nevertheless, as she fumbled with the cowl of her cape, he brushed her gloved fingers aside and tied the tapes into a neat, firm bow. It was an office he had performed for a thousand customers and dress dummies. But Miss Lithwick stood quite, quite still, as if an accidental touch might burn her skin.
Her breathless whisper lacked menace, but there was a firm warning in it. “Do not trifle with me, milord Rudyard.”
Jem stepped back and sketched a short bow as her friends, already in the carriage, called to her to ascend.
“I trifle with no one, Miss Lithwick.”
That was true. He did not dally, loll, or dangle, nor did he wait upon the pleasure of any capricious miss. He had a businessto run, and in due time he would have estates and a marquessate to oversee. Jeremiah Falstead had never trifled in his life, not from the moment he shed his infant dresses for short pants and realized a man had to work his way through the world.
And, Jem thought, as Ashley snapped the coach door shut and rapped on the side to get the coachman moving, he was not trifling with Miss Lithwick. The evening had provided an unlooked-for momentum to his plan.
Many curious eyes had marked her at the theater in the Marquess of Arendale’s box. Those same eyes had seen her on his arm. Lucasta Lithwick would set fires of curiosity about thehaut ton. If he could lure her into his shop and let her emerge a diamond, others were sure to follow where the new heiress led.
But he hadn’t forgotten his revenge, his blow for Judith. As an object of acclaim, the latest fashion, she would know how it felt to have strangers sit in judgment. He was elevating her to the same relentless scrutiny and ruthless judgment that so wearied him.
And if she tumbled out of Diana’s chariot to fall among the lesser mortals, well, perhaps she would harbor a little less derision toward them, and show a little more pity.
