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“He said, ‘You are always so clumsy, Julia.’”
“Yes. You should say something like that to him. In your best public voice.”
“My public voice?”
“It is marvelously penetrating,” Arthur pointed out.
“What in the world has come over you, Macklin?”
“Ingenuity?”
“In…” She frowned at him. “You are behaving quite unlike yourself.”
“Perhaps you don’t know me very well. Perhaps no one does. Oh! I’ve thought of something else. We should include the others. The fellows who plotted against you to overturn the punch. You told me who it was, but I’ve forgotten.”
“Trask and Quigley.” Miss Grandison had begun to look morbidly fascinated.
“That was it,” said Arthur.
“Quentin Quigley is a high-court judge now,” his hostess pointed out. “And Ralph Trask is a solemn paterfamilias. Bald as an egg, of course, as I knew he would be.”
“He’d look like an Easter egg covered in punch.”
Miss Grandison was surprised into a laugh. And once she’d begun she couldn’t immediately stop. “To think of them,” she gasped finally. “All soaked, dazed, and dripping on the carpet.”
“Sticky as well, I suppose,” said Arthur.
“Oh yes. It was terribly sticky. But I do not see how it can be done, Macklin. How would we get them all together at the right moment?”
“Leave that to me.” He had no idea how, but he would think of something. “You might start retelling the old story, as if it was just amusing now. Remind people who was responsible. You could call it a lark, or some such thing. Set the stage as it were.” He had learned from Tom’s experience.
“Lord Macklin, I am beginning to feel that I should refuse your extremely…surprising offer.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because I very much fear you’ve gone mad.”
“I haven’t.”
“Are you sure?” Her tone was desert dry. “How would you know?”
“I am very well aware of what I’m doing.”
They engaged in another lengthy staring contest. Arthur settled in. He would have to become accustomed to astonished gazes. And mouths agape and dumbfounded gasps, he supposed.
“And you do not intend to tell me what that is,” Miss Grandison said finally.
“Do you want your revenge, or not?” Arthur asked.
She considered this for some time, finally letting out a sigh. “I do. Though perhaps I should not. My mother used to say that one should strive to be the larger person. But she never actually had to occupy that position.” Miss Grandison gestured at her massive figure.
“So we go forward with the plan then?”
“I feel as if I’ve harnessed a tiger to my carriage.”
“Thank you.” Arthur smiled. She looked taken aback by his expression. “So we are agreed it is to be at the Overton ball?” he asked.
“Yes.”
