"Dearest, it's written all over your face. Besides that, there's only one quick cure I know of for infatuation—and that is the real thing." With a sigh, Marianne sat up and poured tea into the Sèvres cups. "Do you want to tell me who he is?"
"I cannot." Biting her lip, Percy took the offered beverage. "I wish I could. But it's... complicated."
"Affairs of the heart are rarely anything but. I gather your family would not approve?"
Percy shook her head. "They'd murder me if they found out. And I know you and Helena are the best of friends, so I must beg you not to say anything to her. If you tell her, she'll tell Nick because she tells him everything. Then he'll feel honor-bound to tell Mama... let's just say I shall wind up in very hot water indeed."
"If your well-being is at stake, I will not be able to keep such a promise." Marianne sipped her tea. "But in all other circumstances, yes, I can be discreet."
A fair response. Percy mulled it over. "Can we discuss a hypothetical situation in confidence?"
Marianne's lips twitched. "I suppose. Since it is hypothetical."
"What would you do if you found yourself attracted to a gentleman you ought not be attracted to?"
The other's brows lifted. "I am a widow, Percy. What I would do and what you should do are two entirely different matters."
"Widows have all the luck," Percy muttered. Realizing how that sounded, she added hastily, "The loss of one's husband excepted, of course."
"I find the state quite agreeable. With or without the exception."
"What I mean to ask is how does one test the veracity of one's feelings?" At this point, Percy didn't know if she could trust herself to know the difference between fact and fiction. She was starting to realize that she'd spun tales in her head for so long that she'd fallen prey to some of her own fabrications. "I thought I was in love with Lord Portland," she said bleakly, "but now that I've spent time with him I'm not as certain."
Marianne set down her cup. "I wonder if I should be the one giving you advice on love. I am not a paragon when it comes to these matters. And you, dearest, are already far too susceptible to romantic notions."
"Please tell me what you think," Percy begged. "I am utterly at a loss."
"The truth is..." The other hesitated, then sighed. "I've always found the answer is in the kiss. Whether or not the passion is real and whether or not there is the possibility of love."
Dash it. If kissing was the barometer, then she was in trouble for certain. She could not afford to fall in love with her opponent! Paul, the future of Fines and Company, her own self-respect—all of it was dependent on her withstanding Gavin Hunt's seductive wiles. No matter how irresistible his kiss. Or how wicked his caresses.
"Right." She blew out a breath. "So how does one fight off an imprudent attraction?"
"Stay away from him," her hostess said flatly.
"If that is not possible? If I—er, I mean one has no choice but to see him?"
For the first time, a hint of alarm entered Marianne's voice. "Good God, you're not enamored with a footman, are you?"
"Oh no, it's nothing like that," Percy assured her.
"Because I can tell you definitively that the mistress-servant scenario never works out. Except in those dreadful Minerva Press novels—and then only because the footman turns out to be a long-lost prince in disguise." Marianne shuddered. "Now what was the question again?"
"Strategies for fending off an unwanted attachment," Percy said promptly, "when avoidance is not an option."
"Hmm. I suppose if you cannot avoid him, you could make him want to avoid you."
Now why didn't I think of that?"How?" Percy said eagerly.
"The same way one wards off gentlemen in general." Stretching, Marianne gave a delicate yawn. "Males can be so tiresome and never more so when one has to contend with hordes of them."
"I'll have to depend on your expertise in this instance," Percy said with a wry grin.
"It's simple, really. There's an entire list of things ladies do that drive a man mad. In my observations, the masculine temperament cannot tolerate certain female habits, any more than we can stand some of theirs." Marianne snorted. "For example, the typical male inability to listen. Or their need to smoke those nasty cigars."
"Or... the way they balk at asking for directions?" Percy said with dawning insight.
"Precisely. Thus, if the hypothetical suitor is particularly persistent,"—Marianne shrugged—"drive him away with your gender-given talents."
