Page 27 of Lady, Behave
“Old school chums,” Gyles said. “To your topic, though, my experience with Bony was that he and his henchmen are wily men, grasping always for power. In my opinion, the South Pole is not far enough away to neutralize him.”
Fitzroy spoke up. “We shall keep the little emperor holed up in the desolate place until his death. And that is the end of our worries and our wars. But then, Heath, I saw only the Frenchman’s might on the field. You knew of him as a wily diplomat.”
Gyles worked at hiding the smile that curled his mouth. Fitz was trying to gild his lily for him in front of the lady? “True. After I escaped Verdun, I served for a few years with an espionage group north of Reims.”
“Dangerous work, sir!” Fitzroy said and raised his glass.
“Enough! The two of you!” Addy let out a laugh.
Fitz wiggled his brows. “I see my efforts are not necessary here! Excuse me, Gyles. Miss.” And off he went.
“Addy, I wish to talk with you.”
“Why?”
“Please join me for a turn on the terrace.”
But Lady Carstairs called for everyone’s attention as she stood before the pianoforte and welcomed her guests to the treat of the first soloist of the evening. Addy put down her glass of champagne and went to stand near the hostess.
*
She’d volunteered hersinging. Not the best, she admitted. But better than many. As long as she was able to choose the ditty—and she had informed Lady Carstairs of her song well before dinner—she’d perform suitably. Initially, she’d volunteered to take her mind from the fact that Gyles had not appeared at this party. Perhaps she’d even sing to attract new beaux. But no matter Gyles’s appearance here and his invitation to the terrace, she’d press on as she always did in any endeavor. Even if she proved not the most proficient at music, she always tried to be better at anything she tried. That was worth much, especially to her. After all, a girl had to be more than her looks.
Across the room, she saw Imogen startle at her introduction. Her sisters called her tone-deaf. Her mother had often been embarrassed.A cat, Grandpapa had said,sounds better, dear heart. Perhaps so, but she’d been working at improvement when they weren’t around. Off to the seamstress or the milliner they’d gone and left her with the temptation of the piano and a way to perfect her singing. Like a Lorelei, she’d try it. Had to. What else was there in life but to try and improve, eh?
As she inhaled and clasped her hands together like a Drury Lane performer, Addy called on her serenity and just then saw her courage work its magic. Gyles arched his brows in approval, and she couldn’t help that her heart took wing.
Caterwaul, she would not.
She cleared her throat, forgot about the crowd sitting before her with much-too-saccharine smiles, and proceeded. She began in slow, middle ranges of an Irish country song. A tale of a young lass who discovered love with an English soldier, the ditty spoke of her longing for his return. When at last he did arrive years later to claim her, he had been brutally wounded in war, and he asked if she might still love him. Of course she did. She had waited for her true love, you see. Addy adored the tale, and to her delight, she came to the end of it with the audience gleefully applauding her. She curtsied and grinned into Gyles’s eyes as he maneuvered himself close beside her, outpacing even the very-eager curate, Mister Fellowes.
“Come talk with me, please, Addy.” Gyles led her toward the chairs at the back of the room but did not sit. Taking her hand in his, he bent over her as he spoke and sounded so appealing that she could not deny him.
Glancing around the room, she searched for Cass but did not see her. Nor did she notice that handsome giant in regimentals who had been secluded with her cousin in the cabin Saturday on the Rensfords’ yacht. Cass might not approve of Addy removing herself for a private conversation, even to the well-occupied terrace. But if Addy could not find her because Cass, herself, was too busy kissing a man, who was Addy to deny herself the chance to speak with the man who, with a word, could break her heart again?
She nodded in agreement.
When they stood just outside the terrace doors, and the starlit night enveloped her with false hope he might still want her, he grasped both her hands. “I wanted to apologize for not seeing you in Cowes.”
She lifted a shoulder. She could lie and say there was no need for that, but still, her pride was pricked that he’d not come to Cowes. “You might send your apologies to the Rensfords, sir.”
His features fell. “Am I now ‘sir’ to you? Terrible that. I thought we had progressed nicely to our given names.”
“We might revert to that.” She teetered on a precipice, ready to fall for him so easily.
“I have a good reason for not attending the Rensfords’ party.”
She waited. But he struggled with an explanation. “Very well. I know a man has business matters to pursue.”
“Indeed, I do. And it concerns you, Addy.”
She arched her brows. “Should you tell me?”
“I wish to, yes. You see, someone told me that in Dublin and London, you recently took to kissing any man who intrigued you.”
“Gossips!” She could deny it, but why? She was not a liar. Not even about her…hmm…extraordinary behavior. No Devereaux girl was a liar. Such a characteristic did help to save the family honor. Or so they had all agreed years ago. “Why listen to them?”
He leaned in closer to put his mouth near her ear and whisper, “Anything anyone has to say about you concerns me. I listen but do not believe. Not unless you confirm. Do you kiss those who appeal to you?”
