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“Oh, of course,” Henrietta said. “She was charming.”

“Well, he isn’t,” Esme said bluntly. “Of course, the messiness in his dress is nothing to the messiness in his private life.”

“Still, you are suggesting that a man who wears a pink coat—”

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“Pink?” Esme said with a chuckle. “Darby was wearing pink on High Street? I am sorry to have missed that.”

“Pink. My stepmother complimented him on the color, and he said it was maiden’s blush. How can I marry a man who knows that a certain pink is called maiden’s blush, when I never spend more than twenty minutes dressing myself?”

Over Esme’s shoulder Henrietta saw Darby wander into the room. Sure enough, he was resplendent. He would probably call the color of his coat topaz rather than brown because it had a golden undertone. What seemed more important to Henrietta was that the jacket fitted him like a glove, and what a body it clung to! Broad shoulders slimming to his waist, powerful legs, that elegant, negligible ease. He walked over to Rees, and it was Beauty and the Beast, with a masculine twist.

“You know why you should marry him?” Esme said, laughing. “Because your eyes just turned the smokiest dark blue I ever saw. And that, my dear, tells me that my nephew just entered the room.” She looked over her shoulder. “There he is. As elegant in full dress as he undoubtedly is without clothing.”

“Esse-me!” Henrietta said, shocked.

She just laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to picture him. I don’t want him; I never take up with intelligent men. And Darby is far too intelligent for me.”

Henrietta rolled her eyes. “I gather you forgot to tell me that Marquess Bonnington is a lackwit.”

“That’s different,” Esme said. “Put it down to the fact that my own wits have gone wandering. At any rate, it’s time, my dear.”

Henrietta looked at her imploringly. “This isn’t going to work, Esme.”

Esme ignored her. “Go sit over there in the corner, Henrietta,” she said. “Just signal him to join you, all right?”

“I can’t do that,” Henrietta said desperately. But Esme lurched to her feet. She wanted to have one last 196 Eloisa

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word with Slope about the formation of the table. She had very carefully chosen the four people to each side of her. The vicar, Mr. Fetcham, to her right and Mr. Barret-Ducrorq to her left. Barret-Ducrorq looked just starchy enough to play a brilliant role in their little performance and do it without prompting. Carola next to Mr. Barret-Ducrorq, with her husband on the other side. Tuppy never said much, so she counted him as a benign presence, likely to back up his wife. Then Henrietta was seated next to the vicar, with Darby on her other side. Helene was next to Tuppy, which put Rees opposite her, and Lady Holkham between Darby and Rees. Rees was a bit of a wild card—after all, a man who deserted his wife years before and lived with an opera singer could hardly be called a champion of propriety, nor was he likely to promote the state of marriage. But in the course of a misspent life she had discovered that sometimes the least stuffy people actually responded rigidly and vice versa. Look who was acting as her gardener, after all. The only person missing was Sebastian. Oh how well he could have played it—at least the new Sebastian, with wit to laugh at himself. With his unbending propriety and strict observance of social conventions . . . well, it was a huge shame that he was out in the gardener’s hut. Of course, he was likely far more comfortable than she, stretched out on his bench, drinking whiskey and reading his Homer.

She was longing to go to the water closet—only the fourteenth time she had had to go this evening—and feeling much more nervous about the plan than she let Henrietta know. Managing a plan of this magnitude was difficult. It was much easier to just send Carola into a bedtrick. Carola had to do the dirty work.

But this was truly a work of art.

She rose to her feet. “May I invite everyone to join me in the dining room?”

The play was about to begin.

< 27 =

Sartorial Splendor Cannot Solve All Problems Darby was bored. Bored and irritable, as if his skin didn’t fit. Which was ridiculous because by rights wearing a suit this magnificent should make his physical situation a happy one. For one thing, he had to deal with Rees, who had hied his way to Limpley Stoke in response to Darby’s note. Not that Darby had expressed the slightest wish for company, but as Rees laconically explained it, when a man announces the intention to marry, it behooves his friends to dissuade him. Well, he arrived too late to do any dissuading, marriage not being an option anymore.

For another thing, Darby was intolerably aware of Henrietta’s presence in the room. She was adequately dressed this evening, although pale green did nothing for her hair. He brooded about that for a while and decided that ruby would probably look best.

The green gown fell straight to the floor, as if Henrietta didn’t have a curve to her body, although he knew well that she did. The very thought made him drink a glass of wine far too hastily, drowning out images of honey hair sliding down a delicate, naked back. Slipping over a breast. 198 Eloisa

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“I’ll accompany you back to London tomorrow,” he said abruptly to Rees. “I have to meet my man of business.”

“Will you be traveling with the children?” Rees said, looking distinctly inclined to refuse.

“Esme offered to keep them here. I believe I’ll hire a decent nurse in London and bring her back with me. Meanwhile they can stay under the care of Esme’s nanny, who seems a good soul. Josie has developed a bloodthirsty streak with her tin soldiers, but she isn’t throwing as many tantrums, thank God.”