Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(22)

“Oh, really, Paw!” Rue was moved to protest.

With a nod and an avaricious gleam in his eyes, Channing clapped his top hat to his head and headed out.

Lady Maccon took this all in stride and stayed focused on her daughter. “Kissing? In public? Is that wise?”

Lord Maccon slammed the door… again… and rounded on his wife. “How can you be so calm? He was encroaching on our daughter!”

“Husband,” said Lady Maccon in that tone, “sit down! Our Rue has her majority. I should hope she has had more kissing than I at twenty-one. Young women need some experience. Rue, dear, remind me to discuss the precautionary arts with you at some point soon.”

Rue looked nonplussed. She supposed she ought to have expected this from Mother. Lady Maccon always had a ready answer that was slightly more practical than anyone expected.

Lord Maccon sputtered. “But he was kissing her! And he is quite a bit older. And she was letting him. And people saw.”

Lady Maccon raised her free hand in an awfully familiar silencing gesture. “Now, now, let’s take this one step at a time. Prudence Alessandra Maccon Akeldama—”

Uh-oh, full name. I may actually be in trouble. “Yes, Mother?”

“I will allow that kissing someone is indeed necessary for your education.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“Although your father may not agree with me.”

“He does not,” Paw grumbled.

His wife continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “But you really can’t be seen to do so with a commoner in broad daylight, certainly not in front of your crew. And likely a few builders.” Rue winced. “And perhaps some croquet players?” Rue winced again.

“He deserved it,” said Rue petulantly. “He was being a rotter.”

“Language!”

“Sorry, Mother.”

“So you kissed him?”

Rue nodded.

Lady Maccon looked to her husband with a satisfied expression. “See there, revenge kissing, no harm done.”

Rue couldn’t help it; something about her mother always got her into trouble. It was that maddening calm. “Although, to be fair, when Paw arrived, Quesnel was kissing me back.”

Paw came half off the couch on a growl.

Lady Maccon looked less pleased. “Was he indeed? Quesnel Lefoux? Interesting choice. You realise his mother and I are friendly?”

Lord Maccon made a funny huff noise. His wife tugged gently at their joined hands and he subsided back into the couch.

Mother added, with only a minor glare in his direction, “Although not quite as friendly as we might have been.”

Rue didn’t follow the byplay. “I like him well enough for a dalliance.”

“Dalliance!” Lord Maccon positively roared.

His wife made a funny sputter noise that might have been outrage or amusement or outraged amusement. “Our girl is thoroughly modern, dear. Young people have a different perspective on such things. Will you be continuing this particular croquet match?”

Rue tilted her head, humouring her. “Not at the moment. I believe Mr Lefoux needs to stew. He thinks himself far too enticing. I won’t be played with, croquet or no croquet.”

“Good girl, very wise,” approved her mother.

“Rejecting him because he kissed you back?” Lord Maccon perked up, not following but hopeful.

Rue finally sputtered to a halt. “It’s no good. This is too bad. I can’t be discussing this with you. You’re my parents. Who I go about kissing, or not kissing as the case may be, really is none of your business.”

At that, Lady Maccon became annoyed. “Of course it’s our business! You’re a proper lady, or as proper as we could turn out given the circumstances. You can’t go around kissing coquettish Frenchmen willy-nilly. It’s not done and the papers will positively float off the stands. Frankly, I’m not convinced Mr Lefoux is a top choice. I don’t keep full accounts of your generation, but isn’t he a terrible philanderer? Wasn’t there something about an opera girl a few seasons ago?”

Rue was about to point out that what she meant was that she didn’t want to discuss the specifics of the kissing, when a tremendous galumphing clatter in the hallway made further speech impossible and indicated that the pack was departing for the evening.

“Should you let them out?” Rue wondered aloud before she could stop herself.

Lady Maccon sucked in a breath.

Lord Maccon said, very deadly and quiet, “Are you questioning my authority?”

Rue dropped her gaze submissively, took a big breath, and leapt. “No, Paw. I’m questioning your control.”

She wasn’t certain what such a bald statement might do. Would he drop Mother’s hand and shift, charge at her, roaring? Would he crumble like a child into confessions and tears? But what did happen was almost worse. There was nothing but silence. Rue glanced up through her lashes.

Mother was grey under her olive skin, her eyes sad. Paw was hunched, small as he could get, which wasn’t very. Her indomitable parents, Rue realised, looked defeated.

The silence stretched.

Desperate to see something of their normal dynamic, Rue sacrificed her own pride. “Look. I like Mr Lefoux. I think he’s a prime piece, if you take my meaning. And it’s good if one of us is well versed, don’t you think? Paw, don’t answer that. Regardless, I believe he is attracted to me, although I doubt he takes me very seriously.”