Page 52 of His Spirited Lady
She finished to mild applause, her smile lighting her face. Richard recalled how she’d arrived, just two days earlier, with her nose in the air and trying too hard to fit in. What a difference this party had made.
“That was lovely, Margaret, and so kind of you,” Amelia said. “Who’s next?”
Charles Grayson cleared his throat. “Me, I think.” He drew a deep breath and began.
“There once was a lass who could sing.
As well as a bird on thewing,
And a man with afiddle
Who wrote a poorriddle,
And couldn’t find a properending.”
The applause were heartier, and the ladies’ gasps of disappointment brought good-natured teasing from the gentlemen. No one needed to suggest the correct rhyme. It only took one look at the blushing couple to realize theringwas implied.
“I’ll claim hostess’s right and go next,” Amelia said. Rather than staying seated, she went to the liquor shelf across the way and lifted a familiar bottle. The pride on her face was a secret she shared only with Richard.
“There once was a bottle fromBrewer.
Who said ‘I have heard the bestrumor.’
That I sit on ashelf,
Which I’ve built formyself,
In the hopes it will make me muchsmoother.”
“Well done, well done,” Jasper rumbled as he applauded. “Your tenant has a fine champion.”
“I learned that lesson from Father,” Amelia said as she reclaimed her seat.
Richard took her hand and squeezed her trembling fingers. “I am very proud of you,” he whispered. It was the truth. That rhyme was as close as she’d come to admitting who she really was, what she did when they weren’t around, and how good she was at it. The men had been commenting on those spirits throughout the party.
He also couldn’t help comparing. His limerick had been of her, but hers had been of whiskey. Across from them sat a couple truly and honestly in love, separated only by custom and permission. He and Amelia were bound by business, by contract. Soon they’d be separated by an ocean.
“Annabel next,” Amelia cheered, clapping.
The other woman stood and curtsied to her hostess, a wicked glint in her eye. Richard braced himself. It was always the quiet ones who caused the most trouble.
“There once was a man with adaughter,
Whom he led like a lamb to theslaughter.
And though she didbleat,
He swore she wassweet,
But pity the young lad who caughther.”
After a moment of stunned silence, the ladies leapt to their feet in wild applause. “Huzzah, huzzah. Well done. Well done.”
“Indeed,” Richard said as he tipped his head in a bow. “Rhymingandclever. Well done, Miss Pearce. You’ve captured the spirit exactly.”
“There was a young lady who teased,” Raymond shouted over the din. The group looked to him, their smiles fading, their eyes wary. Like animals sensing a storm or a forest fire.
“And she did it with beautiful ease.” He swayed on his feet and gripped the mantel for balance.
