She had a suspicion Angelique knew which man.
The fact that she hadn’t said anything outright meant she probably trusted Delilah more than she let on.
“Oh, I think men have their merits,” Angelique said. “But they are invariably stupid about pride, and honor, and that rot. And thoughtlessly cruel. And selfish. All to varying degrees, but it seems to be built into their gender.”
The second hand swung away a few more moments of awkward silence.
“I should not have spoken to you in that tone of voice in front of the staff, Angelique. It was wrong and I apologize and I won’t do it again. But I don’t apologize for the spirit of my message.”
Angelique blew out a breath and laid aside her mending. She folded her hands in her lap.
Then cleared her throat.
“You’re also right that I have a tendency to talk to you as though you are a child. And for that, Delilah...” She inhaled again, releasing her breath at length. “I apologize.”
The hot spots of color on her cheeks suggested this apology was a good deal more difficult than it sounded.
“Has it something to do with Derring? Your... condescension?” Delilah hesitated to ask the question, but she needed to know.
Angelique winced. At which word,Derringorcondescension, Delilah was uncertain.
She thought for a moment before speaking. “Less directly with Derring... than perhaps the circumstances of your birth and your position. I suppose I am not as immune to”—she cleared her throat—“envy as I thought. I hadn’t realized it until I just kept doing it. Talking to you as though you are a child. And you are quite brave to call me out.”
This moment certainly felt perilous and delicate and important.
“Well, those I cannot help. My birth. My marriage. Any more than you can help yours. And I respect you no less.”
“I know. Of course I know. I shall attempt not to direct any of my lingering uneasiness about that at you. If you can refrain from speaking to me as though you’re the Duchess of Brexford.”
“I loathe the Duchess of Brexford! Did I sound like her?”
“I’m assuming. I loathe her, too. But if she should ever wish to stay here...”
“We’d charge her double the rate.”
They laughed at this.
“Derring never would laugh at my jokes,” Delilah said. “But I laughed at all of his.”
“Puns,” Angelique said blackly. “How I hated his puns.”
Delilah wanted to say, but didn’t:Captain Hardy smiles at me when I say things, and nearly every one of his smiles contains something of surprise and delight, like I’ve handed him a gift. His laugh is wonderful, and rare. He is far more thoughtful than one would think. He has on occasion made me laugh. He is dry, and a deeper thinker than one would suspect.
But if a woman were to take a lover solely for the sake of taking a lover, none of these things ought to matter. She ought not to consider them at all. His magnificent thighs, on the other hand...
A wave of weakness passed through her at the thought.
Angelique said, somewhat haltingly, “I have found that desire... doesn’t care whether a man is good or not. It doesn’t distinguish. It sometimes fixes itself to an inexplicable object. It seems grotesquely unfair that women should be burdened with such a thing when it’s infinitely more dangerous for us, in many ways, than for men. And yet, there we have it. And the first time your heart is broken is by far the worst. The second time is not much fun, either. And finally you consign the thing to a scrap heap because it rattles about in your chest like dropped china.”
Delilah’s own heart hurt terribly, hearing this. How she wished Angelique hadn’t learned these things the hard way.
“Or so I’ve heard,” Angelique added. “I never had one to begin with, you know.”
Delilah snorted.
Chapter Seventeen
“Mr. Brinker? I’m Lady Derring, one of the proprietresses of The Grand Palace on the Thames.”
