‘But then you would have lost your diamonds,’ noted SirLucius logically.
‘But retained my self-respect, sir. There ought to be a law against’ – she paused, and made a frustrated noise – ‘live poets.’
58‘An interesting idea,’ murmured Sir Lucius, smiling, ‘but are you suggesting all poetry should cease to be written, or that poets should have to, er, pour out their inner ramblings in secret meetings, in fear of the Law banging upon their doors and arresting them?’
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, and he thought she might suggest some bloodthirsty penalty, but suddenly the hard look disappeared, and she gave a twisted smile. ‘You ought not to tempt me, sir. Perhaps, poetry could be kept confined in locked boxes until after the poet’s demise, with an instruction to the executor to read it and destroy anything … gushing.’
‘The practical Miss Ashling.’ Lord Godmanchester smiled. ‘And I thought young ladies would be flattered to be the object of a poet’s golden phrases.’
‘There speaks one who has not had to suffer them, my lord. Only a ninny would be flattered by the pretentious effusions such as Mr Escott brings forth, and I am not so young a lady as to be deceived by words, which mean nothing.’ Her smile disappeared with the last phrase, and her look became almost challenging.
‘Do you thus condemn poets for not just what they say, but for the fact that they say, rather than act, ma’am?’ Sir Lucius raised a questioning eyebrow.
For a moment she frowned, considering. Sir Lucius was struck by the thought that she was indeed far from a ninny, but a woman who really did think. He wondered if she were some blue-stocking with a rabid interest in botany, or Etruscan art. It might account for her unusual manner.
59‘I think that might be the case. They also dwell far too much upon “love”, as if it provided the only reason to exist.’
‘You hold love in so lowly an estimation?’ Lord Godmanchester sounded puzzled. He had thrown a swift glance at his lady, who had looked up as if aware of his gaze by some telepathy, and smiled with her heart in her eyes.
‘I hold what poets term “love” so, my lord, though I will admit that in a few most happy instances, there is a real meaning to it. Genuine love is a too solid and magnificent a thing for mere metre and alliteration.’ She smiled. ‘There. Am I forgiven, sir?’
‘Indeed, ma’am.’ He laughed, and coloured slightly at having betrayed his feelings.
Lady Godmanchester had brought her conversation to an end, and rose to slip her arm through her lord’s. ‘Now what can you have said to put my husband to the blush, Elizabeth? You were not flirting wickedly, I hope?’ Her eyes danced.
‘Flirting? Me?’ Elizabeth looked almost shocked.
‘Do not look horrified. I meant only in the most discreet and social manner. I myself have flirted, quite wildly, this evening.’ She looked up at her spouse. ‘Are you not jealous, my lord?’
‘Since I observed you “flirting”, as you term it, with Sir Francis Sellers, who is old enough to be your grandfather, my love, no, not at all. Mind you, you made his evening. He went away with quite a spring in his step for a man who uses a stick.’
60‘He did, did he not?’ She squeezed his arm slightly. ‘You keep watch over me, sir?’
‘Of course, since you are the most beautiful woman present.’
‘Now who is flirting, my lord?’ She laughed, and it was her turn to blush. ‘And with your wife, too!’ She turned to her friend. ‘Elizabeth, did Mr Escott regale you with sublime couplets?’
‘Do not bring up the subject of poets with Miss Ashling, Lady Godmanchester,’ Sir Lucius recommended, with a wry smile. ‘She has quite gruesome ideas on how they should be treated.’
‘Not “gruesome”. Merely severe.’
‘Oh dear. If I must hear those, I had best be fortified first. Shall we go and seek out the enticing strawberry terrine I have heard is being offered?’
Sir Lucius offered Miss Ashling his arm, and noted the briefest of hesitations before she took it.
Most ladies would have taken pleasure in being seen upon Sir Lucius Radstock’s arm. Elizabeth was wary rather than pleased. He was certainly not going to flirt with her, but had shown an inclination to engage in verbal fencing, and that risked probing far too deep, though there was a trace of excitement to it. Helen had described him as too percipient by half, and Elizabeth thought her friend slightly in awe of him for that reason. Elizabeth would certainly not be in awe of a man, but she thought it would be safer to remain at a distance. Her conversation with61him was therefore brought into the domain of the socially mundane.
After a few minutes he did not respond to her comment, but paused and then asked, abruptly, ‘Why do you choose to revert to inanities, when we had a more interesting topic of conversation before, Miss Ashling? You have genuine views upon matters, and I found your animadversions upon the poetic muse far more entertaining.’
‘I had not realised, Sir Lucius, that you expected to be entertained, and the subject is one I would far rather forget, especially when I hear the word “muse”.’ She sounded displeased.
‘My apologies, ma’am. I thought perhaps you had thought better of voicing opinions that might be considered out of the ordinary. It would be a pity if you did, since they were most refreshing.’
‘Let me assure you, sir, that I have no fear of being so considered. I spoke my mind, which was intemperate, but I did not make my thoughts known in order to provide “refreshment”.’ There was a tartness to her tone.
‘I am wondering why you seem so determined to treat everything I say as offensive, Miss Ashling?’ Her attitude provoked him, and he could not quite comprehend it. It made him unusually terse, and as edgy as she was.
Before she could reply, Lady Godmanchester espied the strawberry terrine, and they were once more drawn into a four-way conversation. If Lord Godmanchester noticed a sudden frostiness between his best friend and Miss Ashling, he did not mention it later. Nor did he62comment upon Sir Lucius withdrawing upon the pretext of wishing to speak urgently to a gentleman with whom Godmanchester knew he had spoken only half an hour previously, and muttering under his breath, ‘Women … incomprehensible. Impossible!’
