What Would Jane Austen Do?

Chapter Six

As they walked down the stairs to meet the rest of the party, Deirdre hooked her arm with Eleanor’s. “I’m sorry you will be paired with the rector as a dinner partner, but I really have no other option since you are the lowest ranking female guest.”

Walking behind them, Mina giggled. Deirdre shot a frown over her shoulder.

“I’m just happy it isn’t me,” the younger sister replied.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Deirdre said to Eleanor.

“I hope I don’t make a fool of myself by using the wrong fork or something.”

“Copy what Deirdre does,” Mina said. “That’s what I always do. And when in doubt, talk about the weather.”

Pausing at the parlor entrance, Deirdre turned to the butler standing at attention nearby. “You may ring the assembly gong, Tuttle.”

He bowed, and with an air of solemn ceremony he opened a tall case of darkest wood to the left of the front door, exposing a large brass circular plate with exotic engravings. He removed a batonlike device from a high shelf and struck the gong.

Eleanor resisted the urge to cover her ears.

“An ancestor of our mother’s brought it back on his return from the Second Crusade,” Deirdre said. “Come. Our guests will be arriving shortly.” The sound of the front door knocker followed their entry into the parlor. “Ah, that would the vicar and his rector. Always punctual.”

“Especially if it involves a free meal,” Mina whispered to Eleanor as she took her place beside her sister. “If I were you, I’d find an out of the way corner until other guests arrive, or you’ll be stuck talking to the rector all evening.”

Eleanor took Mina’s advice and sat in one of two chairs that faced the window. If she peeked around the high wingback, she could see nearly the entire room, but she was out of the traffic pattern.

As the first guest to arrive, the vicar positioned himself near the fireplace and watched the entrance with a welcoming smile. The rector took a post next to a table that held a bowl of sugar-coated nuts that Eleanor knew as Jordan almonds, her favorite movie theater treat. She’d once read on the back of the box that a honey-coated version of the confection dated back to the ancient Romans and that the sweet had been around in recognizable sugar-coated form since the fifteenth century. The rector put one candy in his mouth and another in his pocket. He repeated the process every time the vicar looked the other way.

Although the girls had not set up a formal receiving line, over the next fifteen minutes Deirdre greeted each newcomer, took the person by the arm, introduced the guest to someone, and provided a topic of conversation of mutual interest before moving back to the door to start the process over again. If Deirdre was busy, Mina smoothly took her place. They made it look easy. Eleanor was left in awe.

“Why are you hiding in the corner?”

Eleanor started. She hadn’t noticed Teddy’s approach. Bent over, his face was inches from hers. She leaned back. “I … uh …”

“Shall I fetch you something to relax your nerves? I could smuggle in a brandy.”

“I’m not nervous,” she lied.

“Hey ho, Digby,” a handsome young man in uniform said as he approached. “Not sporting of you to keep the most attractive lady in the room all to yourself.”

Teddy visibly fought for composure. “Cousin Eleanor, may I present Major Alanbrooke of the Forty-Second Hussars, temporarily bivouacked near here while on maneuvers. Alanbrooke, Mrs. Pottinger, recently arrived from the Colonies.”

“Ah, so you are the widow Digby’s sister told us about.”

Eleanor glanced over her shoulder and caught Deirdre’s eye. The girl grinned and winked before turning back to the vicar with a solemnly attentive face.

“I’m compelled to warn you,” Teddy said. “Alanbrooke here runs with a rather fast set.”

“No help for it,” Alanbrooke said. “My family motto is: Ride fast, shoot straight, and love well. Have to live up to the family dictum, don’t you know?” His serious tone was tempered by the twinkle in his eye.

Something else was there too. Sadness? She sensed the man had given his heart totally and irrevocably elsewhere. The woman was unavailable, or his love was unrequited. His teasing banter held no motive other than a bit of pleasantry to pass the time. Intuition told her she’d found a friend, so she felt comfortable returning the conversational lob with her own bit of innuendo.

“My family motto is: Beware of charming horsemen who are armed,” Eleanor responded.

Alanbrooke grinned and spread his hands wide. “You have disarmed me with your beauty and wit.”

“No man …” she said as she dropped her gaze momentarily to his waist, “with a sword is ever completely disarmed.”

“As you see, I left my saber at the door with my hat.”

“You have a saber?” she asked with an innocent smile.

His hoot of laughter caused a moment of silence in the room. He offered his arm. “With your permission, there are two pompous young lieutenants yonder who need to be put in their place, and I have the notion you are just the person to do it.”

Alanbrooke escorted her to the other side of the parlor and introduced two fresh-faced officers resplendent in scarlet uniforms. Parker, tall and thin with red hair and freckles, stammered his pleasure at meeting her. Whitby, stocky with a head of riotous curls the same shade as his laughing brown eyes, kissed her hand and made a gallant bow.

That was how Eleanor became the center of attention of the military contingent, much to Teddy’s obvious frustration. He tried unsuccessfully to shift the conversation to a familiar subject. Eleanor didn’t help him out.

“The problem with being attracted to an officer in uniform is that eventually it comes off.” She stated the innuendo with a straight face and sweet smile to make it more effective. The lieutenants attempted to hide embarrassed laughter behind feigned choking. “You two are horrible.” She stomped her foot as if she had been misunderstood. “You know I meant when the gentleman retires.”

The lieutenants’ faces got redder and redder.

“I believe the term you are looking for is ‘cashes out,’ ” Alanbrooke supplied after taking pity on his men. “When an officer leaves military service he sells his commission, thereby cashing out.”

“Did Alanbrooke tell you we were in the same form at Eton?” Teddy asked her.

“No, he didn’t. Is that how you two met?” she asked her new friend.

“Yes. Rockingham also. You’ll meet him tomorrow. Parker and Whitby here are a few years our junior.”

“We were so flattered to be included with upper classmen we didn’t even mind having to wear dresses,” Parker said in a rush, as if he seldom got to say a complete sentence. Whitby punched him in the arm.

Eleanor let her surprise show in her expression.

“Completely innocent, I assure you,” Teddy said.

“I think we must explain,” Alanbrooke said. “We needed to raise funds for … ah … extracurricular activities. Digby had a crazy idea to put on a play and charge admission. He wrote it and then recruited underclassmen to play the female roles.”

“I was much shorter then,” Parker said.

“I should think so,” Eleanor said, straining her neck to look up at him. He was now the tallest man in the room, a gangly youth with a prominent Adam’s apple.

“It was successful beyond our wildest expectations. So we did several a year,” Teddy said.

“I neither drink nor gamble,” Parker said. “So I saved all, well, most of my share to finance my summers in Italy studying painting.”

“I bought two brood mares and stud service to start a racing stable,” Whitby said.

She turned to Alanbrooke.

“I drank and gambled to excess and graduated without a ha’penny to my name.”

She turned to Teddy.

“We should put on another play,” he said, avoiding her unasked question regarding his activities with slick ease. “Tomorrow night. Just like old times.”

“I can’t,” Parker said with a long face. “My father made me swear on my great-grandfather’s sword never to put on a dress again.”

“How did he find out?” Teddy asked. “We were so careful to keep your identity a secret.”

“You probably shouldn’t have kept the costume,” Eleanor said. She’d meant it as a joke, but from the shocked look on Parker’s face she realized she’d hit a bull’s-eye.

“Only the silk stockings,” he whispered.

She put a sympathetic hand on his arm. “And your father found them?”

Parker nodded. “Apparently, when I fired my valet he went straight to Father to exact his revenge. It’s the only way the old man could have known exactly where I kept them.”

“You should have told him they belonged to a doxie,” Whitby said. “At least that wouldn’t have been so bad.”

“Well, you won’t have to wear a dress this time,” Eleanor said. She patted the young man’s arm. “There are plenty of us who would be willing to act the female roles.”

“You would do that? You would be in our play?” Parker asked.

“Why not? And I’m sure Mina and Deirdre will agree too.”

“I do not think that is a good idea,” Teddy said. “My sisters on stage?” He shook his head.

“It’s only a bit of entertainment for friends and family,” Alanbrooke said. “Hardly scandalous.”

“I suppose …”

Teddy did not seem convinced.

“With you in charge,” Eleanor said to him, “I’m sure everything will be above reproach.”

“Of course it will,” Alanbrooke agreed.

“Very well,” Teddy said. “They can participate.”

“Bravo. It will be so much better with real females,” Whitby said with a boyish grin.

“You’re telling me?” Alanbrooke said, and everyone laughed.

“Will I have a part?” Parker asked.

“All the young people will have a role,” Teddy promised. “I’ll write plenty of small parts so no one will have many lines to memorize.”

“I don’t know how you’re going to do all that by tomorrow,” Eleanor said.

“Never question a master,” Teddy said.

Mindful of her task—at least she told herself that was the reason she spoke for him—Eleanor said, “Don’t forget a part for Shermont.”

“Is he here?” Whitby asked.

“Yes. He’ll join us at the gaming table later, if you have a mind to play a few hands,” Teddy said.

While the others discussed that possibility, Alanbrooke turned to Eleanor with a raised eyebrow. “Shermont?” he mouthed silently.

She shook her head as a blush rose in her cheeks. Alanbrooke must be intuitive. Or was she that transparent?

Thankfully, Deirdre wormed her way into the circle. “I hate to take Eleanor away, but she has yet to meet her dinner partner.” At the groans and offers to take his place, Deirdre shook her finger at them. “And you gentlemen have been shamefully neglecting your own designated partners. Dinner will be served in a few minutes, so I suggest you make amends before you’re doomed to endure a silent meal.” She took Eleanor’s arm and led her away.

“I take it you enjoyed yourself,” Deirdre said with a smug smile. “Unfortunately, it’s now time to pay the piper.” Moments later, she introduced Eleanor to the candy-eating rector, Mr. Fleckart, who by now had a bulging pocket full of Jordan almonds.

He took her hand and bowed. While he waxed eloquent over the honor Miss Cracklebury bestowed upon him by inviting him to partake of what he was sure would be an exemplary meal, Eleanor pulled her hand back and surreptitiously tried to wipe off the sticky residue he’d left. Deirdre gave her an apologetic look.

A sudden hush caused her to turn toward the door. Lord Shermont had entered.

“Good evening,” he said loud enough for all to hear. “I do hope my appearance is not the cause of any inconvenience.”

Of course, he would have to know the opposite was true, but all would forgive the ranking male. If Eleanor could judge by Mina’s welcoming smile, she’d already done so.

Aunt Patience scowled and made a “harrumph” noise.

Deirdre excused herself and rushed to her sister’s side. “We are relieved you are no longer unwell,” she said to him. “And pleased you decided to join us.”

“There I was eating my solitary meal when I realized I was missing the opportunity of spending time with the loveliest females in England.”

Mina giggled, and Deirdre grinned as he bent over her hand. Eleanor understood their reaction and felt a similar welcoming elation. In the course of making his bow, he glanced at her and smiled as if he’d read her mind. Warmth spread through her veins like melted honey.

Shermont made the rounds to greet the guests he already knew, including Major Alanbrooke, and to meet the lieutenants. Despite Carl’s insinuation that the decision to dine downstairs came suspiciously soon after he’d relayed the servants’ gossip regarding Eleanor’s interest in the military men, Shermont’s assessment of the situation proved he’d made the right choice. The younger officers were garrulous, and, in their eagerness to impress, they could inadvertently reveal information valuable to the enemy.

Shermont positioned himself near the fireplace where he could overhear the voluble officers and watch Eleanor, thereby mixing duty with pleasure. On the other hand, it put him in proximity to Patience Aubin, who was not happy to see him, even though she didn’t have the nerve to give him the cut direct.

Patience wore a heavy coating of powder on her face that did little to hide the deep pits that marked her as a smallpox survivor. But it did provide a clue to her vanity—and show him a path he could use to charm himself back into her good graces.

First, he tried a bit of flattery regarding her hideous headgear, an old-fashioned, shiny white turban with an ostrich feather that looked as if it had sprouted from her forehead. Then he added a deferential bow to her judgment on the unnecessary education of girls, even though he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from voicing his true opinion, and he managed his goal with ease, if not comfort.

“As I fast approach the status of elder,” he said with a gesture that included the young Maxwell girls and the two brash lieutenants by the window, “I find myself championing the value of experience over the exuberance of youth.”

“One would hardly call you old,” Patience responded, flipping open her fan and covering the lower half of her face as if she were still a shy girl. “You are still a youngster to us. Don’t we agree—Lord Shermont is in his prime?” she asked the other chaperones seated nearby.

“Then I must bow to your opinion. If I had a glass in my hand, I would raise it to experience.”

The older ladies responded with girlish titters.

Within a short time Deirdre had realigned certain members of the group with new dinner partners. Her deft handling of the emergency impressed Eleanor, even if the changes did not reach as far down the ladder as herself and the rector.

Fortunately, Fleckart’s incessant chatter on the trials and tribulations of his position needed little input beyond an occasional nod or monosyllabic response. When the gong sounded again, they lined up with the others for the promenade to the dining room. The table was impressively packed with elaborate dishes and candelabra. As soon as they were seated, the footmen served a greenish soup from a large turtle shell. Since she found no peas in the thick broth, she simply pushed the grayish lumps she did find around with her spoon until they removed the bowls.

Fleckart’s single-minded application to the task of stuffing his mouth freed her to watch the sisters for clues to the proper etiquette of the intricate dining rituals. When Deirdre, seated at the foot of the long table, spoke to Shermont, seated on her right, all the women conversed with the person to their right. When the hostess turned and conversed with Major Alanbrooke to her left, all the women turned to their left. Because of the extra female guests at the table, Fiona was seated to Eleanor’s left, and the young girl was more interested in making eyes at Lieutenants Whitby and Parker across the table than talking.

“Psst,” Eleanor whispered to get Fiona’s attention. “This style of dining is … ah … foreign to me. Any help you could give me would be appreciated.”

The girl readily agreed without taking her eyes off Whitby.

Eleanor ate very little. And not just because neither Deirdre nor Mina nor any other woman except the chaperones tasted more than a few tidbits. Eleanor sat equidistant from the ends of the table, and a whole roasted pig had been placed smack dab in the center. His porcine eye stared directly at her, ruining her appetite.

She stole a glance at Shermont. He lounged back in his chair, looking straight at her. He raised his wineglass in a silent toast. His intense regard promised more, and it gave her a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had to look away.

The dishes were not served or passed, but everyone simply partook of what was in front of them. Since the table was packed with serving pieces, there was a wide assortment within reach, but she recognized almost nothing. Eleanor had never considered herself a picky eater, but she quickly learned she wasn’t adventurous. Cook apparently wasn’t big on plain food and served almost every sort of meat disguised as something else. The few vegetables presented had been boiled to near mush before being drowned in assorted sauces.

Mr. Fleckart offered her a serving from a bowl in front of him. “Creamed pickled eel?”

Eleanor shook her head, looking away from what resembled slugs floating in clotted milk. She reached for one of the tomatoes placed among the unidentified greens around the pork centerpiece. Fiona, seated next to her, gasped and looked at her with wide-eyed shock.

“Those are poison.”

“Tomatoes?”

“Love apples. They’re only for decoration.”

Eleanor wanted to argue and even prove the conviction false, but she doubted anyone would believe her. She decided the disturbance that proving her point would cause was not worth the trouble. Instead she reached for a plate of assorted cheeses.

The girl made a negative noise.

“No?” Eleanor asked. “Decoration?”

Fiona ducked her head and whispered from behind her napkin. “We do not eat cheese in mixed company because it is properly eaten with one’s fingers. Most men find the aroma that lingers on a girl’s hands and breath unattractive.”

“Oh.” But apparently men with smelly breath and stinky fingers were tolerated—that good old double standard. Again, Eleanor decided against challenging the cultural conventions. As much as she’d always admired the Regency period, she was beginning to miss modern times.

Mr. Fleckart cleared his throat. When she glanced back toward him he held another dish out to her. She must have missed whatever he’d said, but it appeared to be a smoked white fish devoid of unidentifiable sauce. She smiled and took a small piece.

She nearly choked on the heavily salted bite and drained her glass of wine in order to get it down. One of the footmen standing against the wall immediately refilled her goblet. Thankfully, Deirdre rang the tiny bell near her plate and all the gentlemen stood to pull out their partner’s chair. Mr. Fleckart followed suit after stuffing an entire boiled egg into his mouth.

Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief that the women would be excused to the parlor, but she soon learned she was mistaken. The people, still paired with their dinner partners, milled around the table making conversation, all the time pretending not to notice the servants, while at the same time trying to stay out of their way. The table was cleared completely, covered with a fresh damask cloth, and then set with another bewildering assortment of dishes. If anything, this course was more elaborate than the first. The centerpiece was a peacock complete with feathers.

When Deirdre resumed her seat, everyone else did the same. Eleanor found several small carrots used as a garnish that Fiona didn’t stop her from eating. A footman approached her with a dish in his gloved hand.

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Lord Shermont sends his regards,” Fiona said with a sly smile.

“What is it?” Eleanor asked the footman.

He looked startled as he lowered the oval bowl to reveal green beans with almond slivers. “The beans are parboiled and glazed with lemon juice and clarified butter. His Lordship requested Cook prepare this specific dish for your enjoyment.”

“Consider before you partake,” Fiona warned in a whisper. “Sending choice tidbits is a sign of a man’s favor. If you accept … well …”

Eleanor hesitated. What would Jane Austen do? Then Eleanor realized she was too hungry to care about the consequences. How bad could it be? She smiled her thanks to Shermont before taking a generous portion. Then she thanked the footman.

“For future reference,” Fiona said, her voice dripping with scorn, “one does not talk to the servants during dinner.”

“Isn’t that rather silly? What if one needs something?”

Fiona shrugged. “Good service anticipates a guest’s needs. Bad service means you’re stuck. You can always ask your dinner partner to serve you something.”

Eleanor glanced over her shoulder at Fleckart, still cramming food into his mouth as fast as he could chew.

“You will be glad to know,” Fiona whispered, “no hostess worth her crystal salt cellars would repeat partners within a fortnight of dinners.”

While the servants removed dishes for the second time, Teddy practically dragged Beatrix to where Eleanor stood with Fleckart. Mrs. Holcum followed her daughter by mere steps, and Uncle Huxley, the dutiful dinner partner, trailed along in her wake.

“I hope you are enjoying the evening,” Teddy said to Eleanor.

“Of course, I am,” she said, stretching the truth just a little.

Fleckart launched into an ingratiatingly appreciative speech that commanded Teddy’s sole attention.

“So … educational to dine in the society of your betters,” Beatrix said in a low, meant-to-be-overheard voice.

Mrs. Holcum supported her daughter with a nod and a smug smile.

“True. Many of your customs are dissimilar to mine,” Eleanor admitted. The majority of her recent dinners had come from the freezer and had been heated in the microwave. “But different is not automatically superior.” She pasted a sweet smile on her face.

Beatrix opened and closed her mouth like a surprised fish. Apparently, she was not used to those she considered beneath her status standing up to her.

Mrs. Holcum, however, did not let the comment pass. “Are you disparaging your host’s excellent repast?”

Eleanor forced a questioning look and blinked a few times. “What an odd leap of illogical reasoning. I thought we were discussing cultural differences.” She allowed her smile to show a hint of condescension. “Aren’t new experiences one of the joys of travel?”

“Bravo! When in Rome, eh?” Huxley said as he slapped Mrs. Holcum on the back.

Eleanor could almost see the steam coming from Mrs. Holcum’s nostrils as she rounded on Huxley. He grinned, and she visibly struggled to get herself under control. The exchange told Eleanor two things: Huxley outranked Mrs. Holcum’s husband, and he was a bit of an eccentric, which was, of course, tolerated if one’s rank was sufficient.

“Fortunately, I have not had to endure the deprivations of travel beyond this country’s borders,” Mrs. Holcum said. “But if the necessity to do so should ever arise, I’m certain I would uphold the high standards of an English gentlewoman, regardless of native customs.”

“I’m sure you would,” Huxley said.

Mrs. Holcum nodded, pacified by what she deemed a compliment. Although by the twinkle in Huxley’s eyes, Eleanor doubted he meant it as such.

The older woman turned her attack back to Eleanor. “I’ve heard Colonials have adopted many customs of foreign immigrants as well as the native Indians.”

“We are the great melting pot,” Eleanor answered proudly.

“I developed a fondness for the American sensibility after making the acquaintance of Benjamin Franklin some years ago. We had good times when he lived in London. That man loved to sing.” Huxley chuckled at his memories, leaned forward, and whispered, “Especially bawdy tavern ditties. I still miss him.”

“Consorting with the enemy,” Mrs. Holcum said with a disdainful sniff.

“Who’s consorting?” Teddy asked after extricating himself from Fleckart’s clutches. He rejoined the group, bringing Shermont and Deirdre with him.

“We were just discussing an American friend of mine,” Huxley said. “Franklin taught me to take an air bath every day for my health.” The elderly gentleman thumped his chest Tarzan style. “Solid as a strapping youth.”

“What’s an air bath?” Eleanor asked.

Mrs. Holcum grabbed her daughter’s elbow and dragged her to the other end of the room.

Deirdre leaned close to whisper in Eleanor’s ear.

“Uncle Huxley is infamous for sitting on the balcony of his bedchamber without a stitch of clothes on. Avoid the north lawn from two until three o’clock.”

“Thank you for the warning.”

“I believe it’s time to resume our seats,” Deirdre said in a normal voice. She shook a warning finger at her uncle and whispered, “No controversial talk.”

Everyone followed Deirdre’s lead and drifted toward their designated places at the table. Shermont had not needed the reminder that England was at war with the United States. And America was an ally of the French. Huxley went onto Shermont’s list of suspects with the same reluctance that he’d added Eleanor’s name.

By the third remove, Teddy, Alanbrooke, and the lieutenants had each sent Eleanor something from their area of the table. In order not to show favoritism, she accepted all the tidbits with gracious smiles, but she ate none of the sautéed gizzards, plovers’ eggs in aspic, calf’s foot jelly, or marrow pâté.

Finally, dessert was served. The table was cleared to the bare wood, and an assortment of fruit, cakes, tortes, pastries, and sugar candies was laid out. Footmen served champagne under the watchful eye of Tuttle the butler. Fiona pointed out the special silver fruit knife and fork. Eleanor chose a poached pear and enjoyed it nearly as much as Fleckart delighted in his apple turnover, chocolate mousse, berry tart, sugared walnuts, and gingerbread with lemon sauce.

Before she’d finished half her pear, Eleanor had to stifle a yawn. The time difference was catching up with her.

Deirdre nodded to Shermont, and he stood to hold her chair as she rose. The rest of the gentlemen scrambled to their feet.

“We will leave you gentlemen to your port and cigars,” Deirdre announced. All the women stood. After thanking their dinner partners, they followed the hostess into the parlor where coffee and tea were served.

Mina, Fiona, and Hazel headed straight for the pianoforte.

“Play something soothing, my dears,” Aunt Patience said as she settled on the settee and pulled out a bit of fancy needlework. The other chaperones clustered around her. They drew Deirdre into their circle to make plans for the picnic the following day, which left Beatrix and Eleanor to chat with each other. In a blatant ploy to avoid that inevitability, Beatrix retreated to the chair by the empty fireplace and picked up a book from the nearby table.

Eleanor recognized the cut, yet felt as if she’d received a reprieve. She wandered toward the window and sat in the chair she’d occupied earlier to listen to the music. The girls took turns playing. Eleanor recognized Beethoven’s Für Elise and the folk song Greensleeves among several unknown pieces. As she fought to keep her eyes open, she heard the melody from Neil Diamond’s Song Sung Blue, and the thought made her smile.

“I could wish that sweet expression was for me rather than Mozart.”

Eleanor opened her eyes and blinked at Teddy who had seated himself on a footstool near her. “What?”

“Piano Concerto No. Twenty-One? Mozart?”

“Oh. Is that what they were playing?”

“You know, it’s quite depressing when my attempts to display my wit fail so miserably.”

“Sorry. My fault. My mind was … elsewhere.”

“I appreciate your wit,” Beatrix said as she arrived to stand at his side. While Teddy stood, she shot her rival a venomous glare that disappeared as soon as he was in a position to see her face. “Mama wishes to speak to you about a letter she received from Father.”

Teddy bowed and offered Beatrix his arm. As they left, Eleanor realized that if Teddy was no longer in the dining room, the rest of the gentlemen were probably not there either. She sat forward and peeked around the wingback of the chair—to locate Fleckart and avoid him, she told herself. She didn’t see Shermont. She tried to ignore her disappointment. When she leaned back, she spied him lounging on the window seat nearly hidden by heavy brocade drapes. He raised his snifter of brandy in salute.

“How long have you been there?” she asked.

“I confess I’ve been watching you listen to the music. I was content to enjoy the music vicariously,” he said. “I’ve not much of an ear. Do you play?”

“Not at all.”

“Perhaps another instrument? Harp? Flute?”

“No.”

“I thought every gentlewoman was required to have some musical ability on her list of accomplishments she displays in company.”

Eleanor leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial manner. “I have no musical talent. I can’t draw a tree in winter. I sing like a stuck pig. And I have two left feet. I have absolutely nothing to recommend my company.”

“If that is a ploy to elicit a compliment, I must admit I am flummoxed by the unexpectedness of the content.”

“I’m only being honest.”

“Then I am completely discombobulated and yet spellbound by your atypical candor.”

“I’m beginning to doubt we speak the same language.”

“You appear by all indications to understand me.”

She studied him for a moment. “Possibly better than you guess. I think your polysyllabic emoting is an attempt to distance yourself, for whatever reason, from the person to whom you are speaking.”

“Or simply to appear wittier than I actually am,” he said, even though he knew she’d hit the nail on the head. The annoying habit occurred when he was confused, which fortunately didn’t happen often. Why now? He recalled the strong feelings of protectiveness aroused by seeing her with her eyes closed. And yet, he’d recently added her to his list of suspects. If she were one of the foreign agents, how could he protect her and fulfill his mission?

“Just when I thought it was safe to draw near, Shermont starts scowling again,” Alanbrooke said as he approached. “The lieutenants have goaded me into this insanely brave act.” He bowed, took her gloved hand, and brushed his lips against her fingers.

“I’m honored you risked the frightful and dangerous hazards of crossing twenty feet of carpet,” she said.

“Scowl away, Shermont,” Alanbrooke said without breaking eye contact with her. “But face yourself in the direction of those two young pups to keep them at bay.”

Shermont made a low noise deep in his throat.

“He growls,” she said. “But I don’t think he bites.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Alanbrooke said. “I expect I shall pay for my audacity later at the gaming table. However, I will consider it worthwhile if you will but promise me two dances at the ball.”

“Then I’m afraid your travails are for naught. I can’t promise what isn’t within my power to deliver. As much as I’d love to dance, unless the poor dancing master recovers, I won’t have the slightest notion of the steps.”

“I assure you Mr. Foucalt will be recuperated by tomorrow morning,” Shermont said.

She had no idea how he could make such a statement without having been a consulting doctor on the ill man’s case, but she had no doubt Shermont could accomplish anything he set his mind to do. When she looked up at him, she saw only his profile as he turned and stomped away.

Major Alanbrooke chuckled. “That man is walking on quicksand and doesn’t even know it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Both of you?” Alanbrooke shook his head as he moved aside to make room for the lieutenants.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” she said.

His only response was to laugh.