Page 64 of The Secret of Flirting
Lady Ursula giggled behind her fan.
“Served him right if you ask me,” Gregory muttered as he broke off some bread. “The chap was always talking vulgarly about that poor girl.” It had reminded him of how cruelly his father had spoken of Mother when he was in his cups.
Monique shot him a penetrating glance, which he ignored.
“Another time,” his mother continued relentlessly, “he put icicles in a fellow’s boots right before the lad went to don them.”
For the first time since she’d begun laying out his youthful indiscretions, Gregory smiled. “Thatone was funny, actually. You should have heard the whoop he gave.” When he caught sight of the rest of them regarding him with surprise, he sobered. “But to be fair, he did it to me a week later.”
“Not so amusing then, eh?” the count said.
“I don’t know,” Gregory said defensively, and downed some wine. “Certainly woke me up.”
“But the worst,” Mother put in, “was the one that nearly got him expelled when he was twelve.”
“Good God, don’t tell them that,” he growled, but he was shouted down by the clamor of the others wanting to hear it.
Mother paused for effect, waiting for everyone to quiet. “It was late October. The school called me and my husband down to Eton to tell us that our son had attempted to murder the riding master.”
When the others gasped, Gregory muttered, “Oh, for God’s sake, I didnotattempt to murder anyone.” And if he had, the person would have been dead—though he shouldn’t admit that, given what had happened a couple of months later.
“It took us a while to piece the story together,” Mother went on, “but apparently, Gregory had substituted bicarbonate of soda for the usual contents of a salt cellar.”
“I only wanted to ruin the man’s meal, not frighten him out of his wits,” Gregory put in.
“Unfortunately,” Mother said, “the part of the meal that the fellow chose to salt was his favorite dish—a salad generously dressed with vinegar.”
When the others looked at her blankly, Gregory sighed. “It seems that when bicarbonate of soda and vinegar are put together, it makes a... rather impressive foaming effect. Which I did not know at the time.”
“Apparently no one did,” Mother said, a certain glee in her voice. “Including the subject of the prank, who thought it was an attempt to poison him, no matter how much my son protested.”
Gregory snorted. “Father recognized the truth at once. He’d had a friend who was a chemist, so he called the riding master a fool for panicking over it.”
“Yes, his father thought it rather a fine joke,” Mother said dryly. “Eton wasn’t inclined to agree, but he threw some money at them, and the problem went away.”
“Mon Dieu,” Monique breathed, her eyes wide. “I confess I am astonished. You were quite the wild child, Lord Fulkham.”
“Until then, yes,” Mother said. “But that sobered him into being more circumspect from then on.” She shot him a furtive glance. “Turned him into the rigid fellow you see before you.”
Gregory could barely suppress a hot retort. That stupid prank hadn’t been what changed him. The change had happened a couple of months later, once he’d discovered what he was truly capable of.
Thathad been what had taught him that emotions were volatile and must be contained whenever possible. That passion could lead to recklessness and murder.
“Well,” he said blandly, “a lad has to grow up sometime. Now, if we’re done dissecting my misspent youth, perhaps we should discuss our plans for tomorrow.”
Pontalba settled back in his chair. “I thought it was Guy Fawkes Day. Shall we not go into your local village to observe the celebrations? I’ve heard it’s rough and raucous, a delightful melee.”
Gregory frowned at him. “It is indeed, even in Canterbury. And a melee isn’t so delightful if it means risking the well-being of a princess, her lady-in-waiting, her great-uncle, a duke, and the prime minister’s secretary.”
“Don’t forget your mother,” the count added from his seat beside her. The fellow actually patted Mother’s arm reassuringly. “She should not have to endure the behavior of hooligans.”
“Why, thank you, sir,” Mother told the count with a flirtatious smile that struck Gregory speechless. “It is very kind of you to worry about me. Though I’m not sure it’s necessary.”
Gregory shook off the horrifying image of his mother being swept off her feet by the courtly count. Why, the Frenchman was at least ten years her senior! “All I was saying is, in such circumstances, I cannot guarantee anyone’s safety. Which is why the only celebrations taking place will be on the estate.”
“But wewillwait for the prince to arrive, won’t we?” Lady Ursula asked.
Her continued interest in Prince Leopold’s impending visit still perplexed Gregory. After dinner, he would have to take her aside and question her more thoroughly about her relationship to the man. And this time, he wouldn’t let her change the subject, as she had earlier.
