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“Beau Monde et chaise longue…” Miss Beaujeu muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
His governess’ head rose, and as at the interview, he thought to spy a certain wildness beneath that seemingly placid façade. Her jaw was gritted, bosom rising, eyes flashing. “Naught, my lady.”
But Rhys grinned. “Beau Monde,” he repeated, catching on to her meaning. “Bon voyage. Déjà vu. Tête-à-tête. Cliché. Considering the depth of the English language, as you say, Lady Bronwen, a fair few words are taken from French.”
“Coquette,” blurted Gwen, “and billet-doux.” She blushed.
Lady Bronwen’s eyebrows rose. “Well…”
“Champagne,” added Hugh, “and chemise. Where would we be without them?”
“Bonbonsand gâteau!” cried Mari. “It wouldn’t be worth living.”
Miss Craddock’s lips were positively quivering as she awaited her moment. “Décolletage!” she blurted, fingers delving to retrieve her locket from that pertinent area.
Rhys settled his attention upon his governess; a lightness had returned to her eyes and he wasn’t sure if they weren’t a little misty. “Am I not right, Miss Beaujeu? I’m certain there are others?”
“Bonhomie,” she said huskily.
“Intrigue,” he replied.
“Rendezvous,” she rasped, the growled R sending a certain frisson throughout him.
“Liaison,” he murmured, wishing to trade French words all night with the adroit Miss Beaujeu.
“Risqué,” interjected Hugh.
“Touché,” countered Rhys, straightening and forcing himself to look away. “Now I believe Miss Brecken was to perform a piano recital for us all, was she not, Elen?”
A blush tinted Miss Beaujeu’s features as she bent to Mari and congratulated her on gâteau, but he noted Lady Bronwen and Miss Pritchard exchanging a pointed look, brows furrowed and hands clenched around their fans.
Rhys closed his eyes. One should never draw attention to the inconspicuous governess, he knew that, yet an undeniable instinct had arisen within him to protect the quiet stranger in a crowded room of chatter.
Perchance because that quiet stranger was often him. Unsure what to say, sociable conversation a struggle.
Tonight he missed his twin brother deeply. Tristan would have known what to say, been sociable without causing rancour, brought out the best in everyone.
All Rhys had done tonight was stir enemies for his governess.
