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‘There’s nothing to tell. What have you been doing? Or daren’t you tell me?’

‘That’s impertinent. I have been forgetting Charles in a whirl of gaiety.’

‘Faithless one!’

‘I have been to the Races, and was quite out of luck; I went to the Opera, but it was Gluck and detestable; I have danced endless waltzes and cotillions, but no one could dance as well as you; and I went to a macao party, and was dipped; to Enghien, and was kissed—’

‘What?’

He had been listening with a smile in his eyes, but this vanished, and he interrupted with enough sharpness in his voice to arrest her attention and make her put up her chin a little.

‘Well?’

‘Did you mean that?’

‘What, that I was kissed at Enghien? My dear Charles!’

‘It’s no answer to say “My dear Charles,” Bab.’

‘But can you doubt it? Don’t you think I am very kissable?’

‘I do, but I prefer that others should not.’

‘Oh no! how dull that would be!’ she said, sparkling with laughter.

‘Don’t you agree that there is something a trifle vulgar in permitting Tom, Dick, and Harry to kiss you?’

‘That’s to say I’m vulgar, Charles. Am I, do you think?’

‘The wonder is that you are not.’

‘The wonder?’

‘Yes, since you do vulgar things.’

She flushed, and looking directly into his eyes, said: ‘You are not wise to talk like that to me, my friend.’

‘My dear, did you suppose I should be so complaisant as to allow other men to kiss you? What an odd notion you must have of me!’

‘I warned you I should flirt.’

‘And I warned you it would only be with me. To be plain with you, I expect you not to kiss any but myself.’

‘Tom, Dick, and Harry!’ she flashed, betraying a wound.

‘Yes—or, for instance, the Comte de Lavisse.’

There was an edge to the words; she glanced swiftly at him, understanding all at once that he was actuated as much by jealousy as by prudery. The anger left her face; she exclaimed: ‘Charles! Dear fool! You’re quite out: it wasn’t Etienne!’

He said ruefully: ‘Wasn’t it? Yes, I did think so.’

‘And were longing to call him out!’

‘Nothing so romantic. Merely to plant him a facer.’

She was amused. ‘What the devil’s that?’

‘Boxing cant. Forget it! If you were to add that to your vocabulary it would be beyond everything!’


Tags: Georgette Heyer Alastair-Audley Tetralogy Romance