"Go away," he said. "Do you know you've almost no clothes on?"
"Never mind. I need-"
"Never mind? Listen to me, Miss Innocence. There are many things a man can 'never mind.' A nearly naked woman isn't one of them."
"Clara will break him to bridle," Longmore said. "And if she can't cure his wild ways, who knows? Maybe he'll ride into a ditch or get run over by a post chaise, and she'll be a young widow. Do try to look on the bright side."
"Just listen," she said. "You can't kill him in cold blood."
"Whyever not?"
Ye gods grant me patience. "Because he'll be dead," she said as patiently as she could, "and Lady Clara's reputation will be stained forever. Do not, I pray you, do anything, Lord Longmore. Leave this to us."
"Us?"
"My sisters and me."
"What do you propose? Dressing him to death? Tying him up and making him listen to fashion descriptions?"
That's what brings in the customers: the combination of gossip and the intricate detail about the dresses, all related as drama. It has the same effect on women, I'm told, as looking at naked women has on men.
"Did you know you could kill a person with a hatpin?" she said.
"I did not," he said. "Do you speak from experience? Have you murdered anybody? Not that I'd dream of criticizing."
"The whole thing's absurd," he said. "Your sister married a duke. I told Clevedon . . ." he trailed off.
"What did you tell him?"
"Never mind that now," he said.
"I certainly will mind it now," she said.
"Do you want to find Clara or do you want to quarrel?" he said.
"Preferably both," she said.
"Oh, good," he muttered. "We're going to discuss it now."
"No discussion," she said. Her mind was quite clear now, as though a fire had blazed through it, burning away all confusion. "It's perfectly simple. No One Must
Ever Know."
He came up onto one elbow and looked at her. "Do you know," he said, "I can hear those five words in italics. Capitalized."
"But you are a charming and beautiful dunces, madame. And," he continued in French, "charming and beautiful woman can get away with murder. Can you imagine that any man here would prosecute you for assassinating our language?"
"I know why you want to wear the plum," Marcelline said. "It's ravishing. It'll make Longmore swoon."
"It might make him do some things," Sophy said. "But swooning isn't one of them. He's the sort of man who tells a girl he l-loves her and then l-laughs. As though it's a I-joke."
"Shockingly tactless," Lady Warford said. "Unfortunately, Longmore can be tactless quite fluently in several languages."
She's never met an adjective or adverb she didn't like.
"Never mind. I need-"
"Never mind? Listen to me, Miss Innocence. There are many things a man can 'never mind.' A nearly naked woman isn't one of them."
"Clara will break him to bridle," Longmore said. "And if she can't cure his wild ways, who knows? Maybe he'll ride into a ditch or get run over by a post chaise, and she'll be a young widow. Do try to look on the bright side."
"Just listen," she said. "You can't kill him in cold blood."
"Whyever not?"
Ye gods grant me patience. "Because he'll be dead," she said as patiently as she could, "and Lady Clara's reputation will be stained forever. Do not, I pray you, do anything, Lord Longmore. Leave this to us."
"Us?"
"My sisters and me."
"What do you propose? Dressing him to death? Tying him up and making him listen to fashion descriptions?"
That's what brings in the customers: the combination of gossip and the intricate detail about the dresses, all related as drama. It has the same effect on women, I'm told, as looking at naked women has on men.
"Did you know you could kill a person with a hatpin?" she said.
"I did not," he said. "Do you speak from experience? Have you murdered anybody? Not that I'd dream of criticizing."
"The whole thing's absurd," he said. "Your sister married a duke. I told Clevedon . . ." he trailed off.
"What did you tell him?"
"Never mind that now," he said.
"I certainly will mind it now," she said.
"Do you want to find Clara or do you want to quarrel?" he said.
"Preferably both," she said.
"Oh, good," he muttered. "We're going to discuss it now."
"No discussion," she said. Her mind was quite clear now, as though a fire had blazed through it, burning away all confusion. "It's perfectly simple. No One Must
Ever Know."
He came up onto one elbow and looked at her. "Do you know," he said, "I can hear those five words in italics. Capitalized."
"But you are a charming and beautiful dunces, madame. And," he continued in French, "charming and beautiful woman can get away with murder. Can you imagine that any man here would prosecute you for assassinating our language?"
"I know why you want to wear the plum," Marcelline said. "It's ravishing. It'll make Longmore swoon."
"It might make him do some things," Sophy said. "But swooning isn't one of them. He's the sort of man who tells a girl he l-loves her and then l-laughs. As though it's a I-joke."
"Shockingly tactless," Lady Warford said. "Unfortunately, Longmore can be tactless quite fluently in several languages."
She's never met an adjective or adverb she didn't like.
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