“Rest assured that if I had any such intention, I should soon find myself disabused of the notion. Why, Gideon may dispense with his trumpet and merely take Miss Dulcett along as his companion in order to wake the dead.”
Her sister stifled a giggle, drawing a stern look from their mother.
“Do not fidget, child. Men do not like such hoydenish behavior.”
“Yes, Mama,” murmured Marianne.
Lady Farnum turned her attention to her eldest daughter. “And you Augusta, please do not encourage her in such unladylike ways,” she said with a sniff. “Just becauseyoudo not choose to make yourself agreeable with?—
A screeching high note cut off the rest of the sentence. It hardly mattered. Augusta knew it all by heart. Her mother couldn’t understand what interest books or ideas held for a female, especially when said female had not yet attended to the infinitely more important matter of attracting a suitable husband.
She gave an inward sigh, knowing what a sad disappointment she had proved to be in the eyes of at least one parent. Well, her mother need have no such laments concerning her youngest child. Marianne’s stunning looks and sunny disposition had attracted a swarm of eligible suitors and she would have only to choose which one she favored to ensure there would be an engagement by the end of the Season.
Augusta shifted uncomfortably in her seat, drawing another glare from Lady Farnum. Her father didn’t seem as upset that she chose to spend her time in the library reading and studying.
Nor had Edwin.
Her brother had encouraged her to use her mind, sharing his books and his tutor’s ideas with her. Augusta found that she had to blink back a tear on recalling the countless hours they had spent discussing Voltaire or the radical notions of Mr. Jefferson. And it was not as if he was some dull dog, without a spark of mischief to leaven his keen intellect. He had possessed a wicked sense of humor—his comments on the hapless Miss Dulcett would no doubt have had her drawing even more censure from her mother.
Lud, she missed him fiercely.
The singing finally warbled to an end, and refreshments were announced. Marianne was immediately surrounded by several young gentlemen who had never shown the slightest interest in music before. Seeing that her mother was already engaged in a comfortable coze with a few of her old friends, including the formidable Lady Sefton, Augusta rose to mingle with the rest ofthe guests. She took up a glass of lemonade and drifted toward the french doors leading to the garden, her brow furrowing as she pondered how to turn the evening to some use in continuing her investigation. There were very few people here she knew past a nodding acquaintance, and certainly none with whom she could have any plausible reason to bring up mention of the six gentlemen she wished to know more about ...
“I suggest you pay attention to your surroundings while handling such a lethal substance,” came a low voice from behind her.
The result, naturally, was that several drops sloshed over the hem of her gown. She did not need to turn around to identify the speaker. To her chagrin, she felt her cheeks begin to turn a warm red.
“Your waistcoat may count itself avenged, sir.”
“I should like to inform it of the fact, but alas, it has suffered an early demise due the injuries sustained during your unprovoked attack.”
“Hardly unprovoked,” she countered, trying hard not to show her amusement. The man did have the dry sort of humor that she appreciated best. It reminded her of ...
She forced such thoughts aside and her eyes strayed down to the small stain. “That was not well done of you, sir.”
“Ah, but then you already know I am sadly lacking in character.” His hand came around her elbow and propelled her through the open doors. “You look as though you could use a breath of fresh air.” He slanted a sideways look her face. “A trifle warm inside?”
“No, I find that music always transports me to great emotion,” she said through gritted teeth.
He chuckled. “Yes, like the impulse to do bodily harm—this time on a more vocal object than a waistcoat.”
Augusta turned to study a bower of climbing roses in order to hide her grudging smile. “I doubt you have brought me out on the terrace to discuss murder—either that of a cherished item of your wardrobe or the daughter of our host.”
Marcus took a step closer. “Well, you have to admit that she deserves to be throttled.”
Why was it that the heat in her cheeks was refusing to fade, she wondered? In fact, his physical presence was making her feel a bit warm all over. “She is not well-endowed with talent, I grant you.”
“None whatsoever,” he replied. “However the chit is well-endowed in other ways.”
Augusta hoped her face was not as burning as it felt. “Your credentials as a music critic may be suspect, but you are obviously an expert onthatsort of thing,” she said with some asperity. “Now kindly step aside and allow me to return inside.”
She lifted her chin. “And kindly cease attempting to humiliate me for whatever wrongs you feel you have suffered. I have told you, I am sorry for slaying your waistcoat and sorry for my sharp words of the other night. But somehow, I doubt the wound to your pride will prove mortal.”
Marcus didn’t move. “You think I am trying to humiliate you?”
“Why else would you seek me out? I am hardly ... endowed with any of the attributes that would attract a man such as yourself. As you pointed out in our earlier encounters, I am clumsy, old, and ill-tempered.” She paused a fraction. “And the bodice of my gown does not threaten to split its seams every time I take a breath.”
The earl regarded the swell of her breasts. “No, but there appears to be nothing to criticize on that account,” he murmured.
