Chapter 85

"No. No. No. I mean, no, Your Grace. I mean it is kind, very, very, very kind, but no."
What was it he'd thought last night about moves? Whatever it was, he'd no idea his latest suggestion was going to be greeted with such disdain by Nathan, he considered saying straight out, I know you're her, it's so obvious that green waistcoat hardly fits in the middle, so can we please damn well stop this? But it would be a miracle if he reached the other side of the road alive. To lose his focus might be to lose his life in this fog shrouding the pavement like a funeral sheet. Fortunately the road was narrow, so there was a limit to how fast the rumbling carts could travel, as she dived between them, her brown coat tails flapping behind her, those stupid damn spectacles on her face she obviously couldn't see a damned thing through.
He waited till the drivers' curses were behind them before continuing. "It's only the theater for heaven's sake. What's the damned problem she won't come with me? Was last night so odious to her?"
He thought he had been quite charming, really. That was, as charming as the situation allowed when she'd so tickled his senses with her provocative essence that this morning he'd a headache. Of course, the city lay hot and squalid beneath the blanket of fog, despite the time of year. Hadn't she said she'd help him?
She dragged an exasperated breath, her voice more clipped than usual. "Yes. I mean no. I mean, how would I know, Your Grace? I'm afraid we didn't discuss it."
"Well, then, how do you know she didn't enjoy it and she won't come? I thought she enjoyed it. I mean-"
"I've told you." Her tone was rapier sharp. If she'd faced him at Blackfield Heath with a sword, she'd have cut his guts to ribbons. "She's betrothed to Gabriel. I imagine he was probably livid with her."
That little skunk. He lengthened his strides to walk parallel with her through the tendrils of fog snaking at their feet. Hang it all, there hadn't been some ghastly damned row, had there? He'd damn well take the little runt apart piece by piece, starting with his fingernails and ending with his balls, if there had. Why should he be deprived like this?
"Well, that's a pity," he said and meant it. This whole marriage lark at her age was ridiculous. If the thing was called off, wasn't that to be applauded? Think of what he was saving her from.
"Oh, the pity would be yours were she to accept. Believe me."
"What?" A threat from some runt who couldn't fight his own battles? Couldn't come to the chess competition like a man? Excuse him while he quaked in his boots. The pair she'd somewhat ruined with her shooting.
"However Lady Splendor may have seemed to you last night, and however much she seems to others, there are reasons she and Gabriel live a quiet life."
"Yes. So you said. To bene-"
"Not just that. She is the most disagreeable woman ever."
Her strides lengthened, as did his to keep pace with her flapping coattails, her footsteps echoing on the pavement in shoes that were practically hanging off her stockinged feet. He didn't dispute that this morning both her attitude and London stunk worse than an old whore's backside. It was surely disagreeable not to help him when he did all this to help her. Last night they'd been like conspirators, and this morning her face was more shuttered than a window, her eyes empty, her smile a thing of sufferance. After all, no one could be more disagreeable than he could, and would.
He cleared his throat. "But that's not what you said about her the first time you spoke of her."
"I lied."
"You what?"
"Yes. We all lie to hide the fact she has some kind of foul-mouthed condition.There is no hope for it or for curing her. It has made it impossible for her to socialize, or even learn to. The wonder was last night she never slurped her soup and swore at the wine waiters. No doubt she took on everyone she came across, including yourself and anyone you happened to speak to, without the slightest provocation, and you couldn't fail to miss her two left feet?"
"I-"
For a second the lie almost caught him, although it wasn't all a lie. She had danced like-well, it would be churlish to think so when he was a rotten dancer himself-but perhaps he should just acknowledge it was not her strong point?
To say anything about her dancing, good, bad, or indifferent, might be a mistake.
He wanted her to come to the theater, not storm off in a strop. Besides, whom was he kidding? That moment when they had turned in a carousel of lights and mirrors, still damned nearly blew his head off just thinking about it. All to make Babs jealous of course.
"You see, Your Grace, those two left feet of hers are but the half of it. There is also a woman she looks after. An invalid she cannot possibly leave. Bed-bound, which is why we all live in that place, except for Gabriel of course."
It was the first he'd heard. And she must have left this invalid last night. She pushed her hands into her pockets. "It is what she does to atone for her own condition."
A foul-mouthed condition? A damned awkward, refusing-to-oblige-him condition was more like it. One that rendered him speechless after last night.
"Yes," she hurried on. "So if you think you can bribe me or blackmail me into accepting another foolish wager on her behalf-"
"Who says anything about a bribe? I was merely remarking that it was a pity when the evening was so very pleasant-"
"Pleasant?"
Well, it was, wasn't it? When he stepped back, when he considered it, last night champagne bubbles had sparkled in more than her glass, they had sparkled in her eyes. If ... if he could dismiss what had sparked in his veins when he drew her close in that dance, it had proved a very pleasant evening. Here he was risking himself here. For what, when she couldn't oblige him? She must oblige him. He knew just the way to do it too. A way she could possibly refuse.