Page 14 of The Countess Caper

“No,” he replied simply.

Since he appeared to be telling the truth, she decided to answer him. It wasn’t as if her plans for the day hadn’t already unraveled beyond comprehension. “I can pretend well enough,” she allowed.

“I’ve never known you to be anything but charming and vivacious.”

“And flighty. Redheaded.”

He frowned. “I am sure I never said that.”

She snorted.

“Then I am sure I never meant it.”

“Never mind—it only proves my point, I suppose.” Why should she expect him to magically see through her mask? That was hardly fair.

“Which is?”

“I can host a dinner party and speak three languages while saying nothing of import at all. I can make the most dour and proper of dukes smile. I can dance and I can sing. I can recite a terrifying amount of Debrett’s Peerage from memory.”

“I fail to see the problem.”

“I was like a doll. But inside I am too loud and too forceful and too distracted. I always have been.” Too much. Always too much. Even her father had said so, and he loved her. The parade of family relations that came afterward were considerably less amused when they made the pronouncement. And that was when she was still trying her hardest to be about as scandalizing as a sugar confection served to an elderly queen.

“Are you now?” He sounded interested instead of repulsed.

“And I occasionally wear breeches, in case you’ve forgotten.” He did not need to know she robbed men of the peerage. Men of his acquaintance. They deserved it. If they would not rise to their obligations, their obligations would hunt them down. She saw to that.

“Believe me, it’s not something I will easily forget.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m sure I offended your delicate sensibilities. Very scandalous. Disgraceful, even.”

“If you like.” He did not sound scandalized. Interesting.

“And you must know about… Well, The Incident.”

“I can hear the capitals in your voice. The sheer melodrama.”

She made a face. “I was not the one who called it that. But it stuck.”

“It did.” He inclined his head. “Lord Tewksbury, was it?”

“Yes.”

“Did he deserve it?”

“That and much worse.”

He just nodded.

She stared at him. “That’s it? You do not care that I dunked an earl in the punch bowl until he choked?”

He shrugged. “I never did like the man much.”

She could count on one hand the number of people who had not been shocked and horrified by her actions that night. Summer was not even one of them, as she was shocked and horrified that she had missed the show. She mentioned it frequently.

Tessa barely remembered it. It was all rage and wine stains. She did remember passing the alleyway where her cousin had died, all because she was a lady and ladies did not have children out of wedlock. Not marquess’s daughters, at any rate. Never mind that her paramour, Lord Tewksbury, who had sworn love and marriage, was still feted as a catch. Doors had closed to Deirdre, and she had run away in a depressive state before Tessa could stop her. Before she could find her cousin, it had all fallen apart in the mud of an alleyway.

When she’d passed that alleyway full of mud and garbage and a stain that looked like blood a week later—something inside of her had snapped.