“When we see them over the summer,” Viola said, “I am going to paint Lily, even though Van Doren has claimed it will be over his dead body that they hang it anywhere in the house. I wrote Beatrice that I would be happy to hang it over his dead body if that was what he is insisting upon.”
“Van Doren,” Rosalind said, laughing, “he never changes. Thank goodness Bea is delighted with him.”
“All right,” Juliet interrupted, “everybody is deliriously happy and blah, blah, blah. The question at hand is what does Lord Harveston mean by pushing in tonight?”
“He hardly pushed in, Jules,” Cordelia said. “Darden practically dragged him in. You were there, you heard our brother.”
“He could not have been dragged if he had not been there,” Juliet pointed out. “Furthermore, do you not think it odd that suddenly he is interested in the books thatyou’reinterested in?”
Cordelia paused. That had been a surprise, of course. She had not imagined that Lord Harveston would be the least interested in the dreadful doings in the dale.
“Perhaps I have only misjudged him,” Cordelia said. “He can be terribly rude and I believe he is very impressed with himself, but it may have been wrong to jump to the conclusion that I knew absolutely everything about him.”
Juliet sighed, though it was really more of a groan. “Are you all blind? He is trying to apologize for his wretched behavior. I’d lay money on the idea that the first time he picked up one of those books was today. He was very determined to work it into a conversation.”
Hehadbeen determined. Could Juliet be right? If her sister was right, what did it mean?
She did not know, but she could not help but admit that he’d been far more pleasant this night than he had been before. And that he’d looked rather smashing in his riding clothes.
It certainly would be a lot of effort, if he’d read the books only on her account.
“Mark me,” Juliet said, “Harveston has designs. That’s right, I said it. Designs.”
“Surely not,” Cordelia said, hoping her cheeks had not gone red.
“Surely so,” Juliet said. “I tell you to put you on your guard. I would not like him to trick you into something and then you wake up one morning and realize you’ve wed a bookish gentleman. You will not be happy unless you marry a Corinthian, you’ve said so many times.”
Cordelia was thoughtful. Softly she said, “Do you suppose there are many more of them? Corinthians? Aside from Lord Hamill, I mean.”
“Lord Hamill does not cause the signs of love?” Miss Mayton asked.
“No, unfortunately Lord Hamill does not cause the signs of anything. I cannot think why, but it is so.”
“Then, we must dig up more Corinthians,” Viola said. “Ros, ask Conbatten about it, surely he will know.”
Rosalind nodded. “He did say Lord Jeffries was returning from South America from some business or other having to do with mining. He said the lord will require purchasing more horses and he has very specific standards. That sounds Corinthian-like, does it not?”
“It really does,” Miss Mayton said. “Perhaps all this palaver that’s gone on was just the fates’ way of passing the time before your real Corinthian could make his appearance.”
“Trust in the fates, Cordy,” Rosalind said. “They always have your happiness in mind.”
Cordelia felt very buoyed by the idea. An as yet unknown Corinthian was making his way to London. Surely, she would feel the signs of love when she encountered him.
Miss Mayton’s maid, Fleur, poked her head in the door. “I’ve been given a desperate message from Johnny to deliver to you. The duke says he will do a violence to himself if he is parted from his duchess longer. Lord Baderston agreed and said he will do a violence to himself if he cannot go home to his bed.”
The sisters burst into laughter. Viola and Rosalind jumped from the bed and kissed their sisters and Miss Mayton.
They hurried down the stairs to stop their husbands from doing a violence to themselves out of desperate love, desperate boredom, or a bit of both.
*
Tattleton had beenaccustomed to understanding his own feelings as they came upon him. In truth, his feelings had always been comfortingly straightforward. Happy, unhappy, content, not content.
What a whirl of emotions overtook him now!
On the one hand, the duke and his duchess had been to dine, a thing he might speak about in those instances when he encountered one of his peers. Cook had held up his end and rolled out a dinner fit for any palace. Tattleton had brought up the most sublime wines from the cellar.
If he were to only examine those facts, the dinner had been a rousing success.
