Page 145 of Oddity of the Ton
She stepped forward, raised her hand, then slapped Monty across the face.
Devil’s toes!He’d been slapped by women many times—a hazard every rake must accept—but never as forcefully. Most women slapped a man out of indignation, mainly because their ruse to get what they wanted—his hand in marriage, a trinket, or a greater bounty for their services in the bedroom—had failed. But the look in Lady Marlow’s eyes spoke of rage on behalf of a beloved friend, rather than the selfish disappointment of a harpy.
“Lavinia!” Marlow cried. “I hardly think—”
Ignoring him, she slapped Monty across the other cheek. Though he anticipated the blow this time, he remained still.
“You blackguard!” she cried.
Monty nodded. “I suppose I am.”
“I should hit you again.”
“Please do,” he said. “I rather think it’s making both you and I feel a little better.”
She raised her hand again. “You make no attempt to move.”
“Why should I, when I’m receiving punishment for my transgression?”
“So, you admit that you ruined my friend and drove her from her home?”
“I say, my love,” Marlow said, “we can hardly accuse Whitcombe here of—”
“Juliette would never have done what she did hadhe”—she jabbed a finger at Monty—“not taken advantage of Eleanor.”
“Juliette Howard only has herself to blame,” Marlow said.
“Oh, spare me!” Lady Marlow cried. “Why must women always bear the consequences of the actions of men? Much as I dislike Juliette, not even she deserves her fate.”
“Is Juliette not with her mother?” Monty asked.
“She’s in Bath,” Lady Marlow said, “taking the waters for her health.”
“She’s unwell?”
She rolled her eyes. “Just like a man to feign ignorance of the misdeeds of his kind! She’s expecting Dunton’s child.”
“Lavinia, darling, we don’t know for certain—”
“Well, I do!” she said. “Why else would she throw herself at Dunton one moment, then hide away the next while he parades about the place with that Arabella creature declaring to the world what a slut Juliette is? The whole family’s the laughing stock of theton, and it’shisfault!” She jabbed at Monty in the chest.
“Miss Juliette cannot be in Bath. Sir Leonard told me—”
“Ah—thatexplains it,” Marlow said.
“Explains what?” Monty asked.
“The mark on your face. I daresay Sir Leonard’s opinion of you is even lower than my wife’s. You’ll have a devil of a shiner tomorrow, to accompany my wife’s adornment.”
“I won’t apologize,” Lady Marlow said. “It’s the least he deserves.”
“In that I agree with you, ma’am,” Monty said. “But I’ll weather whatever is necessary to find Eleanor.”
She curled her lip into a sneer. “Is that why you’re here—to plague her again? You won’t find her. Sir Leonard wouldn’t even tellmewhere she’s gone—and I’m the only one, save him, who has any regard for her.”
“You’re wrong,” Monty said. “I love her.”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
