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Authors: Brighton Honeymoon
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“although ‘elen is convinced there is one rather large rat.”
Perhaps fortunately for Lady Helen’s composure, Lady Tabor unexpectedly entered the lists. “Good heavens, Mr. Brundy! If you have rodents, send for the ratcatcher by all means, but pray do not discuss the creatures over the breakfast table! And the same goes for you, Aubrey. You, at least, have been bred to know what constitutes polite conversation!”
“I beg your pardon, me lady,” said Mr. Brundy. “I’ll say no more on the subject, except to assure you that I’ve no need of the ratcatcher. I’ve a feeling Aubrey won’t be troubled by mice again,” he added with a wistful look at his wife.
Lady Helen was profoundly grateful when the company’s attention was distracted by the entrance of Polly, dressed for the day in a morning gown of figured muslin.
“Ah, Miss Crump,” Sir Aubrey hailed the newcomer. “I trust your rest was undisturbed?”
Polly studied her inquisitor through blue eyes clouded with suspicion. If Sir Aubrey was no less handsome than he had appeared the previous day, neither was he any less dangerous.
“What, pray, would have disturbed it?” she asked warily.
Sir Aubrey gave a negligent shrug and applied himself to the task of spreading marmalade on a slice of toast. “Any number of things: mice—oh, I beg your pardon, Mama! We were not to discuss them, were we? Let me think, what else might disturb a lady’s slumber? Indigestion, perhaps, or a guilty conscience—”
“Of what are you accusing me, sir, that it should prevent my sleeping soundly?” inquired Polly in dulcet tones.
Sir Aubrey’s expression was all wounded innocence. “Why, nothing, nothing at all! I would no more cast aspersions on the state of your conscience than I would the contents of your stomach—although I must say that if you continue to slather butter all over your bread at that rate, you will find yourself fat as a flawn by middle age.”
As Polly stared down at the slice of toast in her hand (which she had unconsciously been covering with butter ever since Sir Aubrey had first begun his interrogation), Lady Tabor again took a hand.
“If this is what passes for gallantry these days, Aubrey, I am thankful to be too old for flirtations! First mice, and now this!”
“As always, Mama, you are quite right. Miss Crump, permit me to redeem myself in my mother’s eyes. Your radiant appearance informs me that your repose could not have been other than blissful.”
As this declaration was delivered in accents too exaggerated to allow for their being taken at face value, Polly had no illusions as to the speaker’s sincerity.
“You are too kind, sir,” she responded in like manner. “But any radiance in my appearance must be credited to the beautiful gowns with which Lady Helen has been generous enough to provide me.”
“To be sure, Lady Helen has always had exceptional taste,” pronounced Lady Tabor.
“Why, thank you,” put in Mr. Brundy, bestowing a gratified smile upon the dowager. “And ‘ere I was, thinking you didn’t like me above ‘alf!”
“No doubt her taste in husbands would have been equally nice, had she been at liberty to exercise it,” muttered Lady Tabor, glaring at her host.
Silencing her grinning husband with a glance, Lady Helen applied herself to the task of soothing the affronted widow. “Now that Miss Crump has a suitable wardrobe for going about in Society, I have promised to take her to the theater tonight, my lady. Do say you and Sir Aubrey will give us the pleasure of your company!”
“Will he be there?” asked her ladyship, and Lady Helen had no trouble identifying her husband as the object of Lady Tabor’s inquiry.
“Mr. Brundy will, of course, escort us,” she admitted.
Whatever Lady Tabor’s retort might have been, it was cut short by her son. “I am sure I speak for my mother when I say we would be delighted to join you,” said Sir Aubrey. “But I should be even more
Perhaps fortunately for Lady Helen’s composure, Lady Tabor unexpectedly entered the lists. “Good heavens, Mr. Brundy! If you have rodents, send for the ratcatcher by all means, but pray do not discuss the creatures over the breakfast table! And the same goes for you, Aubrey. You, at least, have been bred to know what constitutes polite conversation!”
“I beg your pardon, me lady,” said Mr. Brundy. “I’ll say no more on the subject, except to assure you that I’ve no need of the ratcatcher. I’ve a feeling Aubrey won’t be troubled by mice again,” he added with a wistful look at his wife.
Lady Helen was profoundly grateful when the company’s attention was distracted by the entrance of Polly, dressed for the day in a morning gown of figured muslin.
“Ah, Miss Crump,” Sir Aubrey hailed the newcomer. “I trust your rest was undisturbed?”
Polly studied her inquisitor through blue eyes clouded with suspicion. If Sir Aubrey was no less handsome than he had appeared the previous day, neither was he any less dangerous.
“What, pray, would have disturbed it?” she asked warily.
Sir Aubrey gave a negligent shrug and applied himself to the task of spreading marmalade on a slice of toast. “Any number of things: mice—oh, I beg your pardon, Mama! We were not to discuss them, were we? Let me think, what else might disturb a lady’s slumber? Indigestion, perhaps, or a guilty conscience—”
“Of what are you accusing me, sir, that it should prevent my sleeping soundly?” inquired Polly in dulcet tones.
Sir Aubrey’s expression was all wounded innocence. “Why, nothing, nothing at all! I would no more cast aspersions on the state of your conscience than I would the contents of your stomach—although I must say that if you continue to slather butter all over your bread at that rate, you will find yourself fat as a flawn by middle age.”
As Polly stared down at the slice of toast in her hand (which she had unconsciously been covering with butter ever since Sir Aubrey had first begun his interrogation), Lady Tabor again took a hand.
“If this is what passes for gallantry these days, Aubrey, I am thankful to be too old for flirtations! First mice, and now this!”
“As always, Mama, you are quite right. Miss Crump, permit me to redeem myself in my mother’s eyes. Your radiant appearance informs me that your repose could not have been other than blissful.”
As this declaration was delivered in accents too exaggerated to allow for their being taken at face value, Polly had no illusions as to the speaker’s sincerity.
“You are too kind, sir,” she responded in like manner. “But any radiance in my appearance must be credited to the beautiful gowns with which Lady Helen has been generous enough to provide me.”
“To be sure, Lady Helen has always had exceptional taste,” pronounced Lady Tabor.
“Why, thank you,” put in Mr. Brundy, bestowing a gratified smile upon the dowager. “And ‘ere I was, thinking you didn’t like me above ‘alf!”
“No doubt her taste in husbands would have been equally nice, had she been at liberty to exercise it,” muttered Lady Tabor, glaring at her host.
Silencing her grinning husband with a glance, Lady Helen applied herself to the task of soothing the affronted widow. “Now that Miss Crump has a suitable wardrobe for going about in Society, I have promised to take her to the theater tonight, my lady. Do say you and Sir Aubrey will give us the pleasure of your company!”
“Will he be there?” asked her ladyship, and Lady Helen had no trouble identifying her husband as the object of Lady Tabor’s inquiry.
“Mr. Brundy will, of course, escort us,” she admitted.
Whatever Lady Tabor’s retort might have been, it was cut short by her son. “I am sure I speak for my mother when I say we would be delighted to join you,” said Sir Aubrey. “But I should be even more
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