Page 50 of Oddity of the Ton
Eleanor’s courage wavered. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words refused to come.
“I trust you weren’t impugning my fiancée’s behavior,” Whitcombe said, his voice a low growl.
“O-of course not,” Mr. Moss said, his cheeks reddening. “I wish her every happiness—and you, of course.”
Lady Arabella grimaced, rendering her face quite ugly. “Your Grace, I hadn’t thought your antics of the other night to be sincere.”
The remnants of Eleanor’s courage deserted her. Arabella, and most likely the rest of Society, could never be convinced their engagement was real.
Then Eleanor’s companion took her left hand and raised it. Lady Arabella’s eyes widened as her gaze settled on the emerald ring.
“How kind of you to express such concern, Lady Arabella,” he said. “I acted in haste out of the violence of my affections. But, as you can see, I am now treating Miss Howard with the respect she deserves, and I applaud you for showing her the same respect.”
By now, Eleanor had recovered, and she smiled at her adversary. “Webothapplaud you, Lady Arabella, for your kindness,” she said. “Rest assured, the degree of kindness that you have always bestowed upon me is not something I’ll easily forget.”
Eleanor could swear she heard a small snort from her companion.
Lady Arabella’s expression clouded with confusion. “I-it was nothing,” she said.
“And now, we must take our leave,” Whitcombe said. “My objective in coming to the park today was not to display my ostentation to the world”—Eleanor suppressed a giggle as he glanced pointedly at Lady Arabella’s dress—“but to enjoy the company of my fiancée. Drive on!”
The barouche lurched into motion, and Lady Arabella and her companions stepped back to make room.
“Don’t look back,” Whitcombe said, almost as if he’d read her mind. “They’re not deserving of our attention. Now, shall we continue our lesson? What might you say if you were attending adinner party and the meal was nauseating, but your hostess has asked whether you enjoyed it?”
“Such as Lady Fairchild’s ball last month?” Eleanor asked.
He smiled. “Precisely. I swear, I almost lost a tooth on the steak.”
“Yes, it was somewhat tough,” Eleanor said. “I told her as much when she asked me, though I fear she took offense.”
“Ha!” he said. “You said what the whole party was thinking. Bravo!”
Bravo, indeed! Her honest answer had earned her a tongue lashing from Mother.
“What might you say now?” he asked.
“I’d say, ‘Very delicious, thank you, Lady Fairchild.’”
“Oh, you can do better than that,” he said. “You must find a way to speak the truth to maintain your integrity, yet utter a socially acceptable response.”
“Very well.” She pondered for a moment, then nodded. “How about: ‘Lady Fairchild, I have never tasted anything quite like this. Your cook is incomparable.’”
“Excellent!” he cried. “Are you attending Lady Francis’s ball next week? We can test the principles you have learned on living specimens.”
“And in the most hostile of environments,” she said. “A Society party.”
He let out a laugh, and her heart somersaulted at the beautiful expression in his eyes.
“I foresee a successful experiment,” he said. “I’ll make a lady of you yet.”
His words, though intended to praise, doused Eleanor’s confidence, serving only to remind her of her inferiority. To him, she was merely an experiment—an awkward creature whom he was teaching a few phrases to make her appear socially acceptable.
But to Eleanor—after he’d come to her rescue against her would-be tormentors—he was in danger of making her infatuation grow into something infinitely more dangerous…
Love.
Chapter Sixteen
