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“Pardon me, but this is my hiding place, I’ll thank you to move along,” whispered a female voice from inside the cover of the plants.
“Just let me stay for a few moments. Please. It’s a matter of great urgency.” She squished in beside the other girl, holding her breath and praying that the duke hadn’t seen her.
“MissPenny,” called Marmont. “Where has that girl gone off to? I swear I saw her come this way.”
She could only see pieces of him through the fern fronds. A knobby knee. A blade-thin nose.
“Never mind, Eugene,” said his mother. “We’ll find her. If she’s the one you want, she’s the one you’ll have.”
“Marmont. Ugh,” whispered the girl. “You can stay here as long as necessary.”
“Bless you,” Mina whispered. Her companion had pale red-gold hair and a thin face with purplish shadows under hazel eyes behind wire-rimmed spectacles. The yellow gown she wore did her complexion no favors.
The duke and his mother finally took their search elsewhere.
“He’s a proper nincompoop,” said the girl when it was safe to talk. “Which is a corruption of the Latin non compos, you know. He’s a fool.”
“I’m well aware. I had the terrible misfortune of dancing with him earlier. He has a horror of communal punchbowls. He also advised me on the most efficacious methods of avoiding phlegmatic ailments.”
“He’s a hypochondriac.”
“A what?”
“Borrowed from the Greekhypochondria, meaning the organs of the upper abdomen, behind the ribs, thought to be the seat of melancholy.” At Mina’s blank look, the girl added, “he suffers from a depression of the mind that centers on imaginary physical ailments.”
“Oh.”
“Just learned that one.” The girl held up a book. “Whyter’s Etymologicon Magnum. Have you read it?”
“Can’t say that I have,” said Mina politely. “Is it very good?”
“It’s wonderful, though I’m going to become a lexicographer and compile a much better one. Mine will be much thicker. Words are my passion.” She pushed her spectacles up her nose. “I’ll be a confirmed old maid after this interminable Season is finally finished and I’ll devote myself fully to my etymological studies. I’ve been invited to join a secret society of professional-minded ladies—oh dear, I’m not supposed to tell anyone that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. I’m Wilhelmina Penny, by the way.”
“Lady Beatrice Bentley.”
Rafe and Thorndon’s sister—a stroke of luck. “I was hoping to meet you tonight, Lady Beatrice.”
“You were? I suppose it’s to do with my brother the duke. Everyone’s being so nice to me now, even Lady Millicent Granger told me she liked my ribbons, when she’s never said two words to me before and always calls me Beastly Beatrice behind my back.”
“Why would she call you that?”
Lady Beatrice turned her head fully toward Mina for the first time. The right corner of her mouth and her right eyelid sagged slightly downward. “Facial palsy. Slight partial paralysis.”
She pronounced the medical diagnosis with such naked emotion that Mina’s heart ached for her.
“Paralysis: Latin, from the Greekparalyein, to loosen,” said Lady Beatrice.
“Honestly, I didn’t even notice,” Mina said.
“Thank you for saying that. I know it’s not true but I appreciate the sentiment. And I appreciate that you’re not staring. Most people stare.”
“You’ll have to point out Lady Millicent so that I may find some appropriate torture for her. She’ll never see me coming. Stealth is one of my talents.”
“She’s there, dancing with the Earl of Mayhew. And the best torture for her would be to steal her coveted prize, ergo my brother, the duke. I saw you dancing with him. He appeared to be entranced.”
“He wasnotentranced. It was loathing at first sight, I’m afraid. For both of us.”
