was some antidote. Still, one must admire his awesome self-restraint.
Or was it self-restraint? Milly could not forget her brother’s assertions. Whilst pondering this puzzle, she put forth an amiable comment upon harpsichords.
Harpsichords? Lord Pennymount was very much taken aback by his fiancée’s introduction of that topic, upon which she apparently possessed no small degree of knowledge, as evidenced by her delicate use of such terms as “damper lever” and “underhammer,” “jack springs” and “pivot points.” “What in Hades are you boring on about now?” he snapped.
Reluctantly Lady Camilla broke off her explanation of Shudi’s much-discussed “Venetian Swell,” a louvered shutter placed over the harpsichord strings and opened or closed by a foot pedal to produce a graded loudness or softness. “There is no pleasing you today! You did say I wasn’t to be plaguing you about your wrist!”
Lord Pennymount was positive he had said nothing of the sort; no reasonable gentleman would forbid discussion of the topic that to the exclusion of all else exercised his mind. “Jessabelle bit me!” he announced.
Milly’s brown eyes widened. “Bit you!” she breathed. “Lud! That beats everything! If that’s the way she usually goes on, you can’t be blamed for wanting a divorce.”
Why he should be held at fault for divorcing a wife so singularly ill-behaved as to be abducted by a highwayman while enacting an elopement, Lord Pennymount could not conceive. All the same, he was not an unfair man—at least, not usually. Therefore he conceded that Jessabelle’s act of violence had not been unprovoked.
“You were strangling her?” echoed Lady Camilla, whose lovely brown eyes were now opened so wide they threatened to pop right out other exquisite head. “But why?”
Of that, Lord Pennymount was not certain, a fact which in no wise improved his mood. Moreover, his first countess had bade him to the devil. Clearly she had neither desire to please him nor longing for his good opinion, which made it nigh impossible that he might deliver her a sharp setdown.
“Why what?” he inquired, somewhat absently, when Lady Camilla repeated her question. “Why did I wish to strangle Jessabelle? Because she puts me so devilish out of humor, I imagine. Tongue-valiant wench!”
Extracting information from her fiancé without drawing down his spleen upon herself was an awkward business. “I did not know you were on terms with your previous countess,” Lady Camilla cautiously remarked.
Lord Pennymount glanced at his companion, whose countenance was downcast; and was forcibly reminded that he had deliberately affianced himself to an amiable, albeit beautiful, bird-wit. That she was additionally tiresome was the price he must pay for her total lack of resemblance to his first wife. Jessabelle had never been tiresome, he recalled, for all her sins; nor had she ever been so inconsiderate as to refuse to quarrel with him.
Nonetheless, Vidal was not a cruel man, and some explanation must be made. “I did not speak with Jess for the pleasure of it, but because I sought to persuade her to leave town. That she continues to reside here is very typical of her—and nothing could be more revolting to propriety!”
“Leave London!” repeated Lady Camilla, appalled.
Vidal cast his bride-to-be an impatient glance. “I might have known she would refuse, if only to disoblige me. Jess always was lamentably hot-at-hand.”
Lord Pennymount’s first countess was not the sole sufferer of this affliction, Lady Camilla reflected, her dismay inspired not by Lord Pennymount’s confrontation with his ex-wife, but by fear that Jessabelle might depart London before Camilla had devised some opportunity for speech with her. “I don’t care what anyone says, Pennymount. You are clearly not cold!”
“I beg your pardon?” responded his lordship, somewhat befuddled by this comment, for it was an unseasonably warm day.
Lady
Or was it self-restraint? Milly could not forget her brother’s assertions. Whilst pondering this puzzle, she put forth an amiable comment upon harpsichords.
Harpsichords? Lord Pennymount was very much taken aback by his fiancée’s introduction of that topic, upon which she apparently possessed no small degree of knowledge, as evidenced by her delicate use of such terms as “damper lever” and “underhammer,” “jack springs” and “pivot points.” “What in Hades are you boring on about now?” he snapped.
Reluctantly Lady Camilla broke off her explanation of Shudi’s much-discussed “Venetian Swell,” a louvered shutter placed over the harpsichord strings and opened or closed by a foot pedal to produce a graded loudness or softness. “There is no pleasing you today! You did say I wasn’t to be plaguing you about your wrist!”
Lord Pennymount was positive he had said nothing of the sort; no reasonable gentleman would forbid discussion of the topic that to the exclusion of all else exercised his mind. “Jessabelle bit me!” he announced.
Milly’s brown eyes widened. “Bit you!” she breathed. “Lud! That beats everything! If that’s the way she usually goes on, you can’t be blamed for wanting a divorce.”
Why he should be held at fault for divorcing a wife so singularly ill-behaved as to be abducted by a highwayman while enacting an elopement, Lord Pennymount could not conceive. All the same, he was not an unfair man—at least, not usually. Therefore he conceded that Jessabelle’s act of violence had not been unprovoked.
“You were strangling her?” echoed Lady Camilla, whose lovely brown eyes were now opened so wide they threatened to pop right out other exquisite head. “But why?”
Of that, Lord Pennymount was not certain, a fact which in no wise improved his mood. Moreover, his first countess had bade him to the devil. Clearly she had neither desire to please him nor longing for his good opinion, which made it nigh impossible that he might deliver her a sharp setdown.
“Why what?” he inquired, somewhat absently, when Lady Camilla repeated her question. “Why did I wish to strangle Jessabelle? Because she puts me so devilish out of humor, I imagine. Tongue-valiant wench!”
Extracting information from her fiancé without drawing down his spleen upon herself was an awkward business. “I did not know you were on terms with your previous countess,” Lady Camilla cautiously remarked.
Lord Pennymount glanced at his companion, whose countenance was downcast; and was forcibly reminded that he had deliberately affianced himself to an amiable, albeit beautiful, bird-wit. That she was additionally tiresome was the price he must pay for her total lack of resemblance to his first wife. Jessabelle had never been tiresome, he recalled, for all her sins; nor had she ever been so inconsiderate as to refuse to quarrel with him.
Nonetheless, Vidal was not a cruel man, and some explanation must be made. “I did not speak with Jess for the pleasure of it, but because I sought to persuade her to leave town. That she continues to reside here is very typical of her—and nothing could be more revolting to propriety!”
“Leave London!” repeated Lady Camilla, appalled.
Vidal cast his bride-to-be an impatient glance. “I might have known she would refuse, if only to disoblige me. Jess always was lamentably hot-at-hand.”
Lord Pennymount’s first countess was not the sole sufferer of this affliction, Lady Camilla reflected, her dismay inspired not by Lord Pennymount’s confrontation with his ex-wife, but by fear that Jessabelle might depart London before Camilla had devised some opportunity for speech with her. “I don’t care what anyone says, Pennymount. You are clearly not cold!”
“I beg your pardon?” responded his lordship, somewhat befuddled by this comment, for it was an unseasonably warm day.
Lady
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