Page 98 of Once an Angel
"So what do you all think about those pesky Zulus?" Herbert offered, obviously hoping to steer the conversation in a safer direction.
"Shut up, Herbert," Millicent and Edith snapped in unison.
Emily dipped her spoon in her chowder. Justin's gaze dropped to her lips. "His Grace likes it when
I call him daddy," she announced.
Cecille's smile waned. "Does he now?"
Emily swirled the spoon around her mouth, then slowly slid it out, licking away the stray drops of chowder with feline satisfaction. Herbert gaped, the pesky Zulus forgotten. Justin lifted his goblet and began to drink in long, convulsive swallows.
"Especially after dinner each night." Emily lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. The little countess bobbed forward so far that her lacy fichu sank into her chowder. "That's when he makes me sit on his
lap for my bedtime story."
Justin choked, spewing wine all over Harold. Cecille's elegant mouth dropped open. Edith and Millicent gasped and Herbert went scarlet. As Justin disappeared behind his napkin, Harvey jumped up and began pounding him on the back.
"If you'll excuse me for a moment," Emily murmured. She slipped her knife up her sleeve as she rose, thankful for once for the voluminous ruffles.
When she returned, the second course had been served and they were eating their shrimp in chill silence. The countess's fichu drooped and Harold's silk waistcoat was speckled with wine. Justin watched her
take her seat, his golden eyes glittering with banked fury.
Cecille's laugh sounded more inclined to shatter than tinkle. "I'm not surprised our Emily has ingratiated herself into your affections, Your Grace. She was the darling of every delivery boy and chimney sweep
in our neighborhood. She was always so generous with her . . . person."
Justin slammed down his fork. "I've had enough." His voice was low but laced with warning. "My
ward's past is of no concern to anyone but me. I'll not have her maligned at her own table. Anyone who cares to do so is not welcome in my house."
As Emily met his possessive gaze, a strange warmth spread in the pit of her stomach.
Cecille threw down her napkin. "The other girls were right, Mama. The man is a beast. I won't marry him! I simply won't!"
"That's a relief, since I never bloody asked you," Justin shouted.
Cecille and her mama rose.
"Now, Comtesse," the duchess said hastily, "I really must apologize for the behavior of my son. I'm
sure he meant no—"
Before she could finish, Gracie trotted in from the kitchen, twisting her apron in her hands. Her normally ruddy cheeks had gone as pale as a wraith's. She whispered something to her mistress. The duchess's eyes widened. She cast a furtive glance at the floor. Emily casually tucked her feet up in her chair.
Cecille screamed.
Her shrill howls shook bits of plaster from the ceiling. They all gaped as she leaped onto the brocaded
seat of her chair, then onto the table. As she lifted her skirts and shook them wildly, the cause of her distress became evident. Hanging off the thigh of her pantaloons was a live lobster, his jagged claws entangled in her charming white ruffles.
Emily bit into a succulent shrimp and watched with mild interest as Cecille danced a merry reel among
the rattling plates. The husbands groped beneath her skirts, trying to dislodge the stubborn creature. Lily and Mini-cent jumped into a chair, clutching each other while Edith and the duchess tried to soothe the hysterical countess. A bevy of servants rushed into the dining room, crawling around on hands and
knees to capture the rest of the lobsters skittering around on the Brussels carpet.
It was Justin who finally disentangled the hapless fellow from Cecille's underwear. He tossed the lobster to Gracie, who thrust it into her apron and raced for the kitchen. As the last of the lobsters were rounded up, Cecille collapsed sniveling into her mother's arms.
