And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake(60)

Miss Dale’s chin rose. “I have a talent for these things.”

Of course she did.

“You do?” he asked against his better judgment.

“Yes, watch,” she said, glancing over at the trio. The next time Miss Nashe opened her mouth, Miss Dale supplied the words.

“Oh, the expectations placed on one when one is mentioned daily in the social columns are exhausting.”

Henry coughed on the fit of laughter that nearly choked him. “She would never say such a thing,” he argued as he tried to compose himself.

“No, no,” Miss Dale told him. “She isn’t finished. Listen—”

Then modulating her tones and clipping her words, she matched Miss Nashe’s overly educated enunciation perfectly.

“Yet I endeavor to provide proper and edifying on dits so as to inspire the lesser of my peers to learn from my grace and status. It is my gift to Society.”

And demmed if Miss Nashe didn’t finish and smile at the end of Miss Dale’s lines, as if indeed she was conveying such a condescending speech to her audience.

Henry snorted back another fit of laughter and turned his back to the trio, for it was devilishly hard to look at Miss Nashe and not hear Miss Dale’s recitation.

Meanwhile, his impish companion grinned with wicked delight. “I told you.”

Henry had to admit that the one thing he rather liked about Miss Dale was the fact that she didn’t suffer from a lack of straightforward honesty. And so he replied in kind. “She is rather impressed with herself.”

Miss Dale covered her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. “What a terrible thing to say, Lord Henry.”

“You started it,” he shot back. “But I confess that after listening to her go on for half an hour as to how she’d modernize Owle Park if she were Tabitha—”

Daphne’s eyes widened with outrage. “Change this house? Whatever for?”

Her annoyance echoed his own. He tipped his head closer. “Apparently it is not the first stare of fashion.”

Miss Dale clucked her tongue. “It isn’t supposed to be. It is a family home.” And she didn’t stop there. “Owle Park is delightful. Rather surprising, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it isn’t what I expected,” she said, glancing away, a bit of a blush on her cheeks.

“What did you think you would find, Miss Dale? Remnants of the Hell Fire Club in the dining room? Stray virgins lolling about awaiting pagan sacrifice?” The color on her cheeks confirmed just that. Henry laughed. “You did, didn’t you?”

“It is just that one hears such tales, and then one supposes . . .”

“Disappointed?”

She paused for a moment and then glanced up at him, a twinkle in her eyes. “Slightly.”

They both laughed, and it seemed the entire room stilled and looked over at them.

Henry stepped away from Miss Dale, probably a bit too quickly, for it made him look guilty . . . of something.

Not that he had anything to feel guilty about. And yet there was Zillah, her dark eyes blazing with accusations. Not again, you foolish boy!

He edged a little farther away from Miss Dale before his proximity prompted his great-aunt to come over and give the entire room a recitation of the Seldon family rules.

With nothing of note happening around the pianoforte, the other guests finally went back to their previous pursuits. All too soon, the din of quiet discussions, exclamations from well-played hands, and Roxley’s occasional expletive followed by a “Harry, one of these days I’ll catch you cheating,” left Henry to draw a sigh of relief.

As if he’d lucked out this time. Better than earlier, when he’d gained an earful.

He glanced over at Miss Dale. “You weren’t in too much trouble, earlier that is, were you?” he asked quietly.

“A bit,” she said with a sigh. “And you?”

“Oh, yes.” He had her attention now.

“Rang a peel?”

“Quite.”

She nodded in understanding, then lowered her voice. “They don’t know about—”

She had no need to say the rest . . . the kiss.

“No!” he shot back. “You didn’t mention—”

Miss Dale shook her head slightly. “No.”

“Best forgotten,” he advised, though he knew it would be some time before he could. Forget, that is.