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Authors: Joan Smith
Tags: Regency Romance
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think to threaten me. My hands are clean.”
“Ah, I see you have washed your hands, but is your conscience clear? No ladybird tucked away in a corner? No wild parties at your Leicester hunting box? No secret vices my avid curiosity might smell out? There is no saying the reminiscences will stop at 1800, as originally intended. I might personally add an epilogue pointing out that the sins of the fathers are visited on the children. I shall suggest it to Colburn.”
“Sir Lawrence is not related to me, except by marriage. It would seem more accurate to suggest the sins of the aunt are visited on the niece.”
“Auntie will be crushed to hear it is a sin to write a book.”
“The sin is in your extorting favours for suppressing your stories.”
“It seems it is a chaplain I require, not an attorney. My crimes have been elevated to sins all of a sudden.”
“There is no rational discourse to be had with you. I shall leave.”
“Without having accomplished a thing! I begin to think you came only to vex me. Take care, or you will find yourself having to return to this place.”
“Good day, Ma’am.”
“ Au revoir , Your Grace,” she waved her fingers. “Till we meet again.”
He heard a silver tinkle of laughter follow him as he strode towards the door. He was about to turn around and light into her again but couldn’t think of a sensible word to say.
Chapter 6
St. Felix left the apartment in a state of vexation. He had managed affairs much more serious than this for his family without a qualm and wondered that he should let a saucy little chit bother him so. The worst she could do was to publish some spiteful nonsense in a year’s time, and Larry’s appointment was due any day. It was in no danger, and the other stories Mrs. Pealing would be telling were bound to eclipse the romance with Sir Lawrence.
The sense of frustration came from his not being able to get the upper hand over her. He was the man; he the one who ought to be running the show. She should be trembling in her boots at his empty threats, as any of his sisters or any normal woman would; but no, she laughed at him, and taunted him for returning when he had indicated he had no desire to do so. The most galling thing of all was that he knew damned well he would be back for more of her impertinence as soon as he could find an excuse. But he wouldn’t let Bess invite her to Charles Street. She would see who was running the show.
While he bolted along in his curricle, the young lady did as she had threatened and went to look over the memoirs, her eyes alert for any mention of Thyrwite. Her most careful perusal brought nothing new to light. Reading the chapters, however, she found some allusion to St. Felix, whose acquaintance with her aunt pre-dated Larry’s by some few years; and she reconsidered anew Effie’s relationship with the Duke. Effie had become more pliable since her new rise to fame. She was always smiling now, planning new outfits and her little soiree. Catching her in a happy frame of mind, Daphne again made a try.
“Aunt Effie, I wish you will tell me the story of your affair with St. Felix,” she said in a wheedling voice.
“Lud, Daphne, I’ve told you a dozen times..."
“Yes, I know you were just friends, but you didn’t feel it necessary to hide any other pages from me except those dealing with your ‘friend’, St. Felix. I know there was more to it than that, and you might as well tell me, for I am. imagining the most lurid things.”
“Is that what St. Felix came about?”
“No,” Daphne answered, her interest quickening that he might have done so. How she would love to have something to hold over that sneering face. “I am not standing in line—but you might be yet, Your Grace. I shall quiz him about it next time he does come, if you don’t tell me.”
“You’re making a mountain out of a mole hill. He was just one of my beaux, that’s all. When I was married to Standington there were a
“Ah, I see you have washed your hands, but is your conscience clear? No ladybird tucked away in a corner? No wild parties at your Leicester hunting box? No secret vices my avid curiosity might smell out? There is no saying the reminiscences will stop at 1800, as originally intended. I might personally add an epilogue pointing out that the sins of the fathers are visited on the children. I shall suggest it to Colburn.”
“Sir Lawrence is not related to me, except by marriage. It would seem more accurate to suggest the sins of the aunt are visited on the niece.”
“Auntie will be crushed to hear it is a sin to write a book.”
“The sin is in your extorting favours for suppressing your stories.”
“It seems it is a chaplain I require, not an attorney. My crimes have been elevated to sins all of a sudden.”
“There is no rational discourse to be had with you. I shall leave.”
“Without having accomplished a thing! I begin to think you came only to vex me. Take care, or you will find yourself having to return to this place.”
“Good day, Ma’am.”
“ Au revoir , Your Grace,” she waved her fingers. “Till we meet again.”
He heard a silver tinkle of laughter follow him as he strode towards the door. He was about to turn around and light into her again but couldn’t think of a sensible word to say.
Chapter 6
St. Felix left the apartment in a state of vexation. He had managed affairs much more serious than this for his family without a qualm and wondered that he should let a saucy little chit bother him so. The worst she could do was to publish some spiteful nonsense in a year’s time, and Larry’s appointment was due any day. It was in no danger, and the other stories Mrs. Pealing would be telling were bound to eclipse the romance with Sir Lawrence.
The sense of frustration came from his not being able to get the upper hand over her. He was the man; he the one who ought to be running the show. She should be trembling in her boots at his empty threats, as any of his sisters or any normal woman would; but no, she laughed at him, and taunted him for returning when he had indicated he had no desire to do so. The most galling thing of all was that he knew damned well he would be back for more of her impertinence as soon as he could find an excuse. But he wouldn’t let Bess invite her to Charles Street. She would see who was running the show.
While he bolted along in his curricle, the young lady did as she had threatened and went to look over the memoirs, her eyes alert for any mention of Thyrwite. Her most careful perusal brought nothing new to light. Reading the chapters, however, she found some allusion to St. Felix, whose acquaintance with her aunt pre-dated Larry’s by some few years; and she reconsidered anew Effie’s relationship with the Duke. Effie had become more pliable since her new rise to fame. She was always smiling now, planning new outfits and her little soiree. Catching her in a happy frame of mind, Daphne again made a try.
“Aunt Effie, I wish you will tell me the story of your affair with St. Felix,” she said in a wheedling voice.
“Lud, Daphne, I’ve told you a dozen times..."
“Yes, I know you were just friends, but you didn’t feel it necessary to hide any other pages from me except those dealing with your ‘friend’, St. Felix. I know there was more to it than that, and you might as well tell me, for I am. imagining the most lurid things.”
“Is that what St. Felix came about?”
“No,” Daphne answered, her interest quickening that he might have done so. How she would love to have something to hold over that sneering face. “I am not standing in line—but you might be yet, Your Grace. I shall quiz him about it next time he does come, if you don’t tell me.”
“You’re making a mountain out of a mole hill. He was just one of my beaux, that’s all. When I was married to Standington there were a
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