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The corner of Simon’s mouth twitched upward.
“I adore Shakespeare,” Isobel said, a statement that seemed to startle everyone. “Well, I do. I read it quite often when I was a girl, didn’t I, Lucas?”
All eyes turned expectantly in Lucas’s direction.
“You were always dragging a book with you wherever we went,” he said, shrugging. “I never paid much attention to what it was.”
“I didn’t know you liked Shakespeare,” Thomas, who was standing close to the chair in which his wife was seated, said. “You’ve never said anything to me about it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t now, would I? I found my Romeo and have no need for any another.”
Thomas smiled warmly at Isobel and laid his hand on her shoulder. Laviniaprayed Isobel’s words meant that she, Lucas, and Thomas had made amends.
“I prefer the Good Book, myself,” Isaac said. “‘Who can find a virtuous woman? / for her price is far above rubies.’” He smiled and patted Clara’s hand, making her blush.
“Quoting Song of Solomon there, Isaac?” Simon asked with a smirk.
“Simon,” Lord Thurlby warned. “There are ladies present.”
“Many pardons, Papa.” Although the smirk was still present on his face.
“Proverbs, actually,” Isaac said.
“I would have you sit by me, Simon, so we may chat,” Lady Thurlby said, patting the cushion next to her on the settee. “I have missed you, you unruly child. I want a full accounting from you.”
“She won’t be getting afullaccounting if the state I saw him in this morning is any indication of what he’s been doing,” Lucas whispered to Lavinia as Simon took the spot indicated next to his mother.
“What is London like, Simon?” Rebecca asked, sitting forward in her seat. “I suppose I could have asked you the same question, Lucas. But you spent most of your time with your friend at his residence. Simon has been to balls and routs and operas and the like, and I daresay he has met many important people.”
Mentioning opera hit a little too close to home for Lavinia’s peace of mind, especially when Simon once again glanced at her with narrowed eyes.
“Apparently the Earl of Halford and the Marquess and Marchioness of Ashworth are not important people by my baby sister’s standards,” Lucas said.
“That’s not what I meant, silly, and you know it,” Rebecca replied archly.
“I know precisely what you meant, Miss Jennings,” Artie, of all people, said. Lavinia closed her eyes and waited for the non sequitur that was surely to proceed from his mouth. He took a deep breath in preparation—
“You haven’t thefaintestideawhat she’s talking about,” Delia blurted out, fanning herself with such vigor that her fine white hair looked like a dandelion puff about to take flight in the wind. “Such utter nonsense, Arthur. She speaks ofromance—dashing young men and elegant ladies and flirting and stolen kisses.”
“I know that,” Artie blustered. “I will have you know I am entirely well versed in—”
“‘Cupid is a knavish lad, / thus to make poor females mad.’” Delia, not Artie, was the one quoting Shakespeare this time in a singsong voice, no less, effectively shutting Artie up with her words, along with the rest of the people in the room.
Artie turned purple with indignation. “If you wish to speak of madness, madam, then I would have you recall a certain time in Bristol—”
Hannah cleared her throat forcefully, and Artie shut his mouth, looking disgruntled. Delia lifted her chin defiantly and folded her hands in her lap.
Bless Hannah for doing something to stop Delia and Artie before it got any worse. Their banter, while dramatic, was usually of an amiable nature, but Delia’s impetuously flung words in particular had held a sting. Lavinia glanced around the room, her anxiety nearly at a breaking point. Rebecca’s mouth was gaping open, as were Clara’s and Isobel’s. Susan was fighting laughter behind her hand; Lady Thurlby was not laughing at all—a single eyebrow arched sufficiently to declare her point of view. Lord Thurlby and Lucas’s brothers—except for Simon—looked utterly confounded by what they’d just witnessed.
“You were speaking of important people, Rebecca,” Susan prompted.
“Was I? I have forgotten,” Rebecca replied.
Simon locked eyes with Lavinia—and then he winked.
Her heart sank. He’d thought her familiar but hadn’t placed her; Delia and Artie’s verbal jousting with their generous quoting of the Bard had supplied the missing piece of the puzzle.
She deliberately turned away from the others while they attempted to revive the stalled conversation and took hold of Lucas’s arm. “May we leave, please? I’m feeling unwell all of a sudden,” she whispered.
