Page 49 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
"And you look as delicious as a..." Eudora scrunched her nose, as she tried to think of a food which could best describe Lady Albermay's purple ensemble, "...as a pickled beet."
"I'm most partial to a pickled beet, so thank you," Lady Albermay smiled, unshaken by such a clumsy compliment.
Her husband appeared at her shoulder, the lines of his face even more pronounced as he frowned at his wife.
"It is not the done thing to loiter when one first enters the room," he grumbled, ignoring Eudora and Emily, "We must circulate and be seen. I swear, if I had known marrying an American was akin to marrying a child, I would not have bothered. Lord Ackenhurst is over there and we must not be seen to ignore him; he has offered to lend support to my bill in the House of Lords. Come."
Emily concealed her look of horror, but Lady Albermay appeared well able to handle her husband.
"You married me for my wealth, not my socialnous, dear," she tartly reminded her husband, before offering the sisters an apologetic look, "I hope to speak with you again later."
Once the pair were out of earshot, Eudora turned to Emily with a scowl.
"What an odious man," she grumbled, "He was rude to his wife, and he did not even acknowledge us."
"We are unmarried young ladies," Emily reminded her, with a shrug, "We're not worth acknowledging, in some men's eyes. Come, I see the footmen bringing in trays of syllabub."
Emily linked her arm through her sisters, and they traipsed across the ballroom together, smiling politely at the other guests. She procured them both glasses of the delicious ices, and they returned to their potted plant to happily munch away in peace.
"Oh look," Eudora elbowed Emily sharply, "That's Sir Cadogan, is it not? I did not think that Mary would invite him. Who's that he's with?"
Eudora squinted across at Ethel, who looked out of place as she fiddled with the feathers of her turban, and glanced around nervously at the other guests.
"That's Ethel," Emily tried for nonchalance, but her sister was not to be fooled.
"Why on earth did Mary invite...?" Eudora began, before trailing off as realisation dawned.
"You invited them!"
"Hush," Emily thwacked her sister's arm with the spoon she held, "Don't draw attention."
"I'm not drawing attention," Eudora responded, with her usual defensiveness, before continuing on in a lower voice, "How exciting! Are you hoping to draw a confession from the pair?"
"Lord Chambers is hoping to," Emily agreed, "If he ever shows up. I have not heard from him, since our kiss."
Confiding one's problems in one's sister was often unpredictable. One never knew if she would sympathise, chastise, or advise of her desire to commit violence on one's behalf.
Eudora chose the latter.
"The fiend," she huffed, running an agitated hand through her brown curls, half-destroying Sylvie's work in the process, "How dare he steal a kiss and abandon you after? I will run him through with a sword when I next see him. Oh, look--there he is!"
Eudora glanced around, her eyes searching for something to use as a weapon, but the ballroom was, thankfully, devoid of any decorative arms. Fearing that she might use the glass which had held her syllabub as an improvised missile, Emily plucked it from her hand and waved down a passing footman to take it away.
"Don't say anything, Eudora, I beg you," Emily whispered to her sister as Lord Chambers sighted them, and gave a wave, "I'm certain there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for his absence."
"It would want to be reasonable," Eudora muttered darkly, as Lord Chambers--accompanied by a friend--made his approach.
"Miss Mifford," Freddie greeted Emily with his usual warmth, and, despite her annoyance at him, she could not help but smile back.
"This is my good friend, Lord Delaney," he continued, turning to his companion, "This is the famed Miss Mifford, and her charming sister, Miss Eudora Mifford."
Freddie's voice faltered a little as he realised that the "charming" Eudora was glaring daggers at him.
"A pleasure, Miss Mifford," Lord Delaney bowed in Emily's direction, "Though we have just met, I feel I know you intimately, given how often Chambers speaks of you."
"Ahem," Freddie cleared his throat pointedly, his ears pink.
"He's incessant," Lord Delaney continued, appearing to delight in his friend's discomfort, "Day in, day out, from morning to night, all he speaks of is you."
