were scalding hot, then moved on to Lady Havard . "And Lady Havard —what a delight indeed! I am the most fortunate of men today. Three beautiful women in one room."
'You flatter us," Clarissa's stepmother gushed. "Would you care for some tea, my lord?"
"Certainly, certainly. Lovely."
"Do sit down."
"Thank you."
There was a moment of silence as everyone returned to their seats—everyone but Clarissa, who had never left hers—then the others all sighed contentedly.
"Well, this is a surprise, my lord. To what do we owe this visit?" Lady Crambray asked as she poured tea for him.
"Owe?" He sounded surprised. "Why, you owe nothing. I never charge for my company, delightful as it may be."
He gurgled with an almost girlish giggle that made Clarissa's eyes widen in dismay. Goodness! She was nearly blind, but not deaf. This definitely was not the Lord Greville she had met. That man had possessed a voice as deep and smoky as his cousin's. His words had been serious and correct. This could not be Lord Reginald Greville , she decided, but the other two women chuckled obligingly at his little joke.
But who was he? Clarissa asked herself. Surely her stepmother and Lady Havard , both of whom had ex-
cellent sight, should recognize this man as an impostor
if he weren't the real Greville . Yet neither woman seemed alarmed. The only thing Clarissa could think was that it was Lord Greville , but that he was putting on some sort of charade. Though she couldn't think why he would behave as he was. He sounded very much like a ... well, to be frank, he sounded rather feminine.
It was as she had this thought that Clarissa recalled asking Lord Mowbray if his cousin was a rakehell, and warning him that her stepmother would never allow her to ride with one. Obviously the men had decided to put the woman's fears at rest with a performance of masterly proportions.
Clarissa marveled at his acting abilities as Lord Greville confided, "Actually, I was just trying out my new upper ben and calp , and thought to check their effect on the loveliest ladies in London."
Her stepmother and Lady Havard tittered girlishly at the compliment. Clarissa asked what both other women were surely too afraid to show their ignorance by asking, " Er , what exactly is an upper ben and calp , my lord?"
"Why, my greatcoat and hat, girl," Reginald explained in his high, trilling voice. He then jumped to his feet and did a little pirouette before her, presumably showing off his greatcoat and cap as if he didn't know she was blind.
"What think you? Nice fit, is it not?"
Clarissa squinted for all she was worth, but he was still just a whirling streak of chartreuse. It was Lydia who covered for her silence, gushing, "Oh, 'tis lovely. You must give me the name of your tailor so that I may pass it on to my husband."
" Tis quite striking," Lady Havard agreed.
Clarissa used a cough to cover her chuckle at the idea of her father even considering wearing such a color. He would have fits. Lord Crambray was very conservative.
Apparently satisfied by their praise, Lord Greville sank back into his seat with a pleased sigh. "I try always to be in fashion. I did wonder if I should not get a matching lally and kickseys as well. What think you?"
"I think that sounds lovely," Lydia murmured with obvious confusion, even as Lady Havard murmured, similarly lost. It seemed die woman's knowledge of cant wasn't as extensive as she would have had them believe.
It was Clarissa who asked, "What exactly would a lally and kickseys be, my lord?"
"Shirt and breeches," Greville explained patiently, and Clarissa's eyebrows flew up at the idea of his wearing a matching chartreuse shirt and breeches beneath the coat. He obviously noted her expression. She could hear the amusement in his voice as he added, "But I thought that might be a bit much, so I dabbled my best white lally and made do. 'Tis for the best, no doubt. I do hate to drop the glanthem ."
"I am sorry," Clarissa said with
'You flatter us," Clarissa's stepmother gushed. "Would you care for some tea, my lord?"
"Certainly, certainly. Lovely."
"Do sit down."
"Thank you."
There was a moment of silence as everyone returned to their seats—everyone but Clarissa, who had never left hers—then the others all sighed contentedly.
"Well, this is a surprise, my lord. To what do we owe this visit?" Lady Crambray asked as she poured tea for him.
"Owe?" He sounded surprised. "Why, you owe nothing. I never charge for my company, delightful as it may be."
He gurgled with an almost girlish giggle that made Clarissa's eyes widen in dismay. Goodness! She was nearly blind, but not deaf. This definitely was not the Lord Greville she had met. That man had possessed a voice as deep and smoky as his cousin's. His words had been serious and correct. This could not be Lord Reginald Greville , she decided, but the other two women chuckled obligingly at his little joke.
But who was he? Clarissa asked herself. Surely her stepmother and Lady Havard , both of whom had ex-
cellent sight, should recognize this man as an impostor
if he weren't the real Greville . Yet neither woman seemed alarmed. The only thing Clarissa could think was that it was Lord Greville , but that he was putting on some sort of charade. Though she couldn't think why he would behave as he was. He sounded very much like a ... well, to be frank, he sounded rather feminine.
It was as she had this thought that Clarissa recalled asking Lord Mowbray if his cousin was a rakehell, and warning him that her stepmother would never allow her to ride with one. Obviously the men had decided to put the woman's fears at rest with a performance of masterly proportions.
Clarissa marveled at his acting abilities as Lord Greville confided, "Actually, I was just trying out my new upper ben and calp , and thought to check their effect on the loveliest ladies in London."
Her stepmother and Lady Havard tittered girlishly at the compliment. Clarissa asked what both other women were surely too afraid to show their ignorance by asking, " Er , what exactly is an upper ben and calp , my lord?"
"Why, my greatcoat and hat, girl," Reginald explained in his high, trilling voice. He then jumped to his feet and did a little pirouette before her, presumably showing off his greatcoat and cap as if he didn't know she was blind.
"What think you? Nice fit, is it not?"
Clarissa squinted for all she was worth, but he was still just a whirling streak of chartreuse. It was Lydia who covered for her silence, gushing, "Oh, 'tis lovely. You must give me the name of your tailor so that I may pass it on to my husband."
" Tis quite striking," Lady Havard agreed.
Clarissa used a cough to cover her chuckle at the idea of her father even considering wearing such a color. He would have fits. Lord Crambray was very conservative.
Apparently satisfied by their praise, Lord Greville sank back into his seat with a pleased sigh. "I try always to be in fashion. I did wonder if I should not get a matching lally and kickseys as well. What think you?"
"I think that sounds lovely," Lydia murmured with obvious confusion, even as Lady Havard murmured, similarly lost. It seemed die woman's knowledge of cant wasn't as extensive as she would have had them believe.
It was Clarissa who asked, "What exactly would a lally and kickseys be, my lord?"
"Shirt and breeches," Greville explained patiently, and Clarissa's eyebrows flew up at the idea of his wearing a matching chartreuse shirt and breeches beneath the coat. He obviously noted her expression. She could hear the amusement in his voice as he added, "But I thought that might be a bit much, so I dabbled my best white lally and made do. 'Tis for the best, no doubt. I do hate to drop the glanthem ."
"I am sorry," Clarissa said with
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