Page 101 of The Pleasures of Passion
“You saw us drive by?” he said. “I noticed no one passing us on your street.”
“Brilliana clearly spotted me,” Aunt Agatha said blithely. “She waved to me. Didn’t you, Brilliana?”
Aunt Agatha must have some reason for the lie. “Of course. I’m sorry, Aunt, but there was no time to stop and tell you of my change in plans for the day.”
She waved off the apology. “It doesn’t matter. But Iwasalarmed when the footman told me of your falling-out with Margrave. Have you gone mad? He’s an earl, for pity’s sake. How could you jilt an earl?”
Brilliana’s father came up the stairs, clearly drawn by the commotion. “What is this?” he said, glancing from Aunt Agatha to her. “What are you doing here, daughter?”
“She jilted Lord Margrave!” Aunt Agatha said, as if that explained everything.
“What?” Papa said. “Why?”
Uncle Toby gritted his teeth. “Because he’s an inveterate gambler.”
“What doesthatsignify?” Papa asked. “Half the men in London are inveterate gamblers. Including her father.”
“Which is precisely why she shouldn’t marry such a man,” Uncle Toby said.
“Nonsense,” Aunt Agatha said. “Sir Oswald is right. His gambling is naught to worry about.”
“You see, Toby? Best to stay out of these matters with the young people.”
As her uncle faced her father in a fury, Aunt Agatha winked at her. Winked! Brilliana had been unaware that the baroness even knewhowto wink.
“You may stay out of it, Oswald,” her uncle said. “But I care about her too much to allow it.”
Brilliana had to stifle a snort.
“So go back to your cards and your ridiculous friends,” Uncle Toby went on. Then he glared at Aunt Agatha. “And forgive me, Lady Pensworth, but your niece has made up her mind, so there’s no point to your haranguing her further.”
“Haranguing her!” her aunt cried, with a gleam in her eyes. “Howdareyou, sir? I will have you know that I have taken that woman into my bosom, yet she has chosen to insult my charity by refusing a perfectly good gentleman. It will not be borne, sir. It will not be borne, I say!”
From there, the matter deteriorated into a melee. Uncle Toby argued with Aunt Agatha, Papa put in his own opinions here and there but was gainsaid at every turn, and Brilliana did her best to stir up trouble wherever she could, because she had a sneaking suspicion that there was a method to Aunt Agatha’s madness—though she had no idea what it was.
Until the sound of pounding on the door downstairs brought the melee to an abrupt halt. “Open this door in the name of His Majesty, William IV!” cried a loud, official-sounding voice.
Brilliana’s mouth fell open. And when she shot her aunt a quizzical glance, Aunt Agatha winked at her again. Good Lord.
Papa seemed genuinely surprised to hear visitors at the door, and immediately headed off down the stairs to see what was afoot. Uncle Toby, however, blanched and darted off to the parlor.
Brilliana hurried after him. Whatever was going on, she would not give him the chance to dispose of any evidence that might be in the house. She entered the parlor to find him frantically searching the room.
He rounded on her. “Where are they, niece?”
As she heard sounds of booted feet tramping up the stairs, she cast him a look of pure innocence. “Where are what?”
“The papers, damn it! The one you were copying and the copy!”
She peered over at the table. “Are they not there?”
“You can see that they’re—” He held out his hand. “Give them to me. Now!”
“I don’t have them. Perhaps they fell on the floor,” she said sweetly. “Did you look there?”
He advanced on her with a look of such rage in his eyes that she stepped back, but then Niall walked in. Brilliana could have wept with relief.
“Are you all right, sweeting?” he asked with concern.
