Page 24 of Death at the Dower House
“Sheisquite lovely,” Crispin mused, and I turned my attention back to him.
“Oh, quite. They both are. Johanna might be a bit more beautiful, truthfully, although I suppose that depends on taste. But Laetitia’s title and fortune makes up for it, I assume.”
He didn’t answer, so I went on, twisting the metaphorical knife a little harder. “Neither of them would be hard on the eyes across the breakfast table in the morning. And either one would jump at the chance to drag you to the altar right now. Just think about it, St George. By Christmas you could be wedded and bedded—or should that perhaps be the opposite in Laetitia’s case? Bedded first, and then wedded?—with an heir on the way, tied down for life.”
He’d turned progressively paler as I went on, until he looked almost ill. Now he swallowed hard, like the prospect was nauseating. It nauseated me a bit too, so I found I couldn’t blame him.
“You really are vile, Darling,” he told me when he’d got his voice back.
I smirked. “Oh, am I? I’m not telling you anything you shouldn’t already have worked out for yourself.”
He nodded. “I’m aware. You just have this way of setting everything out in the least flattering terms possible, that makes me see the consequences and cringe.”
“My job here is done, then. You can drop me off next to Christopher, if you don’t mind.”
“Ifyoudon’t mind,” Crispin retorted, “I’m going to drop you off next to Peckham instead, and beat a hasty retreat through the door. I need some fresh air.”
“And a cigarette to settle your stomach?”
“That, too. But mostly just a few minutes where I’m not being pawed over by one girl or another.”
Or a third, I supposed, if he included me. “Am I pawing at you, St George?”
“No, Darling, more’s the pity. I was referring to Laetitia and Johanna.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I can handle Peckham.”
“Then I’ll see you later, Darling.” He dropped my hand and unwound his other arm from around my waist, and the next second, he had vanished into the reception room before I had really noticed him move. I found myself standing next to Gilbert Peckham, who was looking at me with a puzzled frown, as if he had no idea where I had come from.
That wasthe end of the amusement for the evening. When both Laetitia and Johanna saw that Crispin had made his escape, they set up a hue and cry after him. I let them look, and made my own way over to Christopher, who had also escaped as a result of Laetitia’s search for Crispin. He was standing by the bar cart mixing himself another cocktail, and when I appeared next to him, he arched his brows. “How did that happen?”
There was no need to ask what he meant. “Marsden put his hand on my knee,” I said, “and tried to crowd me into the corner of the sofa. I thought about causing a scene, but I decided against it. I suspect the Dower House is on Marsden land, and it wouldn’t do to offend the lord of the manor.”
Christopher nodded.
“I couldn’t catch your eye,” I continued, “and Francis and Constance were off in the dark over there—” I flapped a hand toward the less-lit corner of the room, “—so I got Crispin’s attention instead.”
“And he came to your rescue?”
I nodded. “He was remarkably decent about it, too.”
Christopher glanced at me. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.” I squinted at him. “You’re not?”
“I’m not,” Christopher said. “He was brought up partly by my mother, so he would have learned to respect women. And aside from that—”
“Respect women?” I cut him off, appalled. “You call the way he’s running through every girl in London ‘respecting women’?”
Crispin might have saved me from the advances of Marsden earlier, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t see his (many, many) glaring faults.
“He’s not as bad as that,” Christopher said. “It’s hardlyeverygirl in London. And besides—”
I popped my hands on my hips. “Oh, and because he leaves out the ones who are too unattractive, or not rich enough, or who have enough morals that they won’t agree to do whatever he wants—”
“Pippa—”
“And I don’t know why you persist in defending him, because you know as well as I do—”
