my lord. I’m Mrs. Brown, and this is my daughter, Miss Brown. We’re very pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m sure.”
“Mama!” Miss Brown hissed.
Mrs. Brown’s eyes twinkled. “Bring me some lobster salad when you come back, love.”
Miss Brown’s jaw set, but she put one kid-gloved hand on Nev’s arm. “Well, my lord, shall we walk?”
Nev smiled.
They walked for a minute or two without speaking. Nev was surprised when Miss Brown broke the silence. “You wouldn’t, by any chance, be the same Lord Nevinstoke who broke into Almack’s at midnight last month?”
“The very same. I can’t take all the credit, though—Percy and Thirkell were with me. And it was Percy’s idea to wear trousers. Were you there?”
Her mouth twisted. “I have not received vouchers.”
“It’s overrated. Your father’s a Cit, I suppose.”
She didn’t answer.
Nev repeated the last few sentences in his head and panicked a little. “Oh, the devil—I mean, the deuce—I mean—” He collected himself. “I’m awfully sorry, I really shouldn’t have said that. I’ve had a bit of claret, you know. Please forgive me.”
For the first time, she smiled at him. “It’s all right. I know it’s obvious I’m not old money.”
“Doesn’t matter. I think it’s terribly clever, you know, making money. My father only knows how to spend it.” He paused, considering. “And gamble with it, of course.”
Miss Brown didn’t answer, but she took his arm a little more tightly.
Nev decided to be daring, and covered her hand with his. She looked at him and quirked a brow, but she didn’t take her hand away. It was small and warm under his, and she was really very pretty, with fine dark eyes, a straight little nose, and a girlish mouth, thin and expressive. Her complexion, framed by straight dark hair, was almost translucent. He suspected she would freckle in the sun.
“Would you like to step out on the terrace?” he asked hopefully.
She laughed outright. “I hope I’m not such a green girl as that. But I will allow you to select some hors d’oeuvres for me.”
“A task! My lady has set me a task! But first I beg a token of your favor.”
“I’m afraid my red sleeve embroidered with great pearls is pinned to my other evening gown, my lord,” she said with ironic courtesy.
His eyes lit up. “You like Malory!”
She flushed, as if it were something to be ashamed of. “I’ve always been fond of the Morte d’Arthur. I hope my taste in modern literature is rather more elevated.”
Nev grinned. “Says you! I’ll wager a pony you’re hiding The Mysteries of Udolpho in your reticule even as we speak!”
She wrinkled her nose at him, and Nev wished very much that she were not a young lady, or that he were not a gentleman. He turned hastily to the buffet table. “Well, I shall now perform the momentous task of choosing your hors d’oeuvres. Hmm, this one seems a little lopsided, doesn’t it? And this one’s rather too brown. Aha! Here we have a perfect specimen!”
“Nev!” Percy gasped behind him.
Nev nearly dropped the plate on Miss Brown’s skirts. “What is it, Percy?”
“Retreat, man, retreat! Your mother’s got Thirkell!”
Nev started, and turned. Sure enough, Lady Bedlow had poor Thirkell at bay, her gilded curls bobbing indignantly as she shook her vinaigrette at him. Thirkell was sending Nev pleading stares in a manner that would soon betray his location. Then would follow recriminations, accusations of heartlessness, and probably some pointed jabs at poor Percy, who, Lady Bedlow was convinced, was Low Company and also Leading Her Precious Boy Astray.
“Where did she spring from?” Nev railed inwardly against the unfairness of the universe. Turning to Miss Brown, he shoved the plate at her. “Terribly sorry, I must be off.” He met Thirkell’s eyes and jerked his head at the door.
Thirkell took off for the exit, Percy and Nev close on his heels. At the door, Nev glanced back once. He caught a glimpse of Miss Brown loading some lobster salad onto her plate and shrugging ruefully across the room at her mother. Then he was out the door and under the stars, running down South Audley Street with his friends.
“Shhhh!” Nev hissed. “I’m trying to listen!”
Thirkell cheerily ignored him—and the soprano singing her heart out across the clearing. “Pass the ham.”
“Oh, yes, will you serve me some too?” Amy asked.
“If I buy you rapacious eaters another ham, will you hush?” Nev speared a few slices of paper-thin Vauxhall ham as the plate went by.