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Cecelia started to reply, but James forestalled her by saying, “Indeed.”
He drew out the word, giving it an intonation that suggested Lady Trestan’s remark was puzzling and possibly a bit offensive.
Only he could do so much with two syllables, Cecelia thought.
“I do not see why you allowed that,” their hostess replied.
The duke raised one eyebrow. “Allowed?”
“I think you might have refused, since you must have known we wouldn’t like it.” She sounded petulant.
He let this remark sit in silence for a moment. Cecelia almost spoke, even though she knew nothing was going to convince the Pendrennons. But then she obeyed an instinct and waited.
“It is a common thing for young couples to set up their own households,” James said.
“They had perfectly adequate quarters here,” Lord Trestan snapped.
Did he really believe that, Cecelia wondered, when they had done all they could to make Sarah uncomfortable?
“Newlyweds often seem to prefer independence,” said James.
“Well, we will make them sorry!”
The eyebrow came into play again. Not for the first time, Cecelia wished she could raise one brow in that intimidating way. “Sorry?” James repeated, as if the word bewildered him.
“I’ll teach Kenver not to defy me!” Trestan let a fist fall on the table.
The countess looked approving. “We will tell everyone to cut them dead,” she added.
James gazed at them until they moved uneasily in their chairs. “Cut them,” he repeated. Once more, he made the words sound incomprehensible. “I don’t understand.”
“They will not be allowed to…”
“Do something that many, nay most, newly married couples do?” James interrupted.
“Against our express wishes!” declared Lady Trestan.
“Would you really expose your family to rumor and malicious gossip?” He frowned. “Over a perfectly usual occurrence?” He gazed at their hosts as if he found them bewildering. “Well, that will be a nine days’ wonder and no mistake.” His tone suggested they were idiots. And they clearly heard it. The earl bridled and scowled. His wife looked grim but also thoughtful.
Cecelia was surprised—not by James’s conversational skills but by his willingness to intervene. He had taken the burden of their hosts’ annoyance from her shoulders. He had made them reconsider their malice. And done it superbly.
He continued as dinner went on. She did her part in carrying the conversation, but he took the lead, periodically emphasizing his earlier points. The hints he dropped about how improper their outrage would look to society appeared to fall on fertile ground. By the end of the meal, the Pendrennons seemed to have dropped the idea of expressing it to all and sundry.
“Thank you,” Cecelia said when they returned to their suite at the end of the evening. “That was masterful.”
“That?”
“Your…handling of our hosts. I know you find my friends’ problems even more tedious than estate business. But you were heroic tonight.”
“You may have noticed that I have certain conversational skills.”
“On numerous occasions. But you don’t often bestir yourself.”
“Bestir?” The duke smiled with raised eyebrows. “You make me sound like a bowl of rack punch.”
“More like a god of worldly thunder,” Cecelia said admiringly. “Threatening bolts of society’s contempt.”
He gazed at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. “I bestir myself, and always shall, for one person.”
