Page 29 of The Tartan Trap

Daisy drew back her chin as if she had just discovered a wedge of lemon stuck in her jaw. Even Margaret blinked in shock. Rachel was the only one who seemed perfectly calm.

“I have never been treated such in all my life,” Daisy finally said.

“That I do believe,” she said. “Many people lack the fortitude to deal with individuals like you directly.”

Daisy blinked.

“It was decidedly terrible to meet you, Miss Knope, and I must request that you find elsewhere to be.” Rachel made a little shooing motion with her hand.

Daisy went away blinking as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

Margaret stared at Rachel, her eyes wide with wonder.

“What?” Rachel finally said. She was frowning, the wave of her fan agitated.

“I’ve never been able to get the upper hand in a conversation with her. Not ever.”

“I find that I’m quite disappointed in you upon hearing that, for you are far more intelligent than she is.”

“Perhaps, but I’m unwilling to stoop to her level.”

Rachel tilted her head as if considering. “Did you find my methods distasteful?”

“Not at all. I thought you handled her with aplomb.”

She made a small humming noise. “Plums. I wonder if they have any plum tarts here.”

Margaret shook her head and laughed.

“My old cook used to make the best plum pudding,” Rachel continued with a faraway, dreamy expression that Margaret had never seen her wear before.

“I believe our cook makes a nice one,” she said. “You’ll have to come and try it.”

“I’d like that very much.”

They passed a few moments in companionable silence, watching the lovely swirling of the dancers.

“There are many handsome gentlemen here this evening,” Rachel finally said.

Margaret couldn’t help but admire her friend for the frankness with which she spoke. She doubted that any other lady in the room—save for perhaps those elderly dowagers in the corner—would dare make such an honest appraisal in full hearing of everyone else.

“Does this mean that you’re reconsidering your position on marriage?”

Margaret endeavored to keep the nerves from her voice in case her friend answered in the affirmative. She had been secretly grateful that Rachel had no plans for marriage this Season, or at all, for that matter.

“Of course not, don’t be silly.” Rachel peered in every direction, even going so far as to crane her neck to get a better view. “I’m looking on your behalf, is all.”

“My eyes work very well, thank you,” she hissed. “There’s no need to draw such attention.”

“Was I?” Rachel sounded vaguely surprised, as if she truly didn’t understand why staring at every eligible gentleman within her orbit might have been seen as scandalous. “It hardly matters,” she finally said. “They’ll think I was looking for me, not you.” She frowned suddenly. “Though I’d better stop, or risk receiving visitors in the parlor tomorrow.”

“There’s no doubt of that,” Margaret said wryly. She nodded toward the far corner of the ballroom. “With your sister looking as she does, there’s bound to be a crush of eligible bachelors at your door.”

“She does seem to be enjoying herself this evening.” Rachel smiled. There was a hard glint of satisfaction in her expression and her words.

“Perhaps my brother will come to his senses,” Margaret said.

Rachel shrugged. Margaret noted that she was able to make even that insouciant expression look elegant somehow. Though she knew her friend cared little for the standards of English beauty one way or the other, there was no doubt that Rachel fit them all.