up enough abject apologies. He is a high-court judge. He can hardly put a bullet in me.”
The earl joined them on a chorus of exclamations.
“I wouldn’t be too concerned,” he responded. “It is not exactly a matter of honor to be dowsed with rack punch. Quigley was not…impugned. Though we have not quite settled what it is.” He smiled.
Teresa could see no signs of regret in his face. He sounded much as usual. He looked as urbanely handsome and assured as ever.
“We are all wondering that,” said Miss Deeping. “Have you heard the wild theories racing around the ton?”
“I have not.” Lord Macklin looked merely amused.
Miss Deeping counted them off on her fingers. “One, the most convoluted—that Miss Julia Grandison knows some dark secret about you and threatened to reveal it unless you did as she asked. Two, the strangest—that opera dancers have sent you out to pay off past humiliations. In a demented kind of chivalry. Several men have looked quite concerned about that one. And three, the simplest—that you’ve just gone mad. Of course.”
“Charlotte is making a chart,” said Miss Moran. “With subcolumns for what your dark secret might be and which gentlemen had best watch out for retribution.”
The earl burst out laughing. Teresa listened as if the sound might give her clues. It seemed a carefree laugh.
“Why did you do it?” asked Miss Finch.
“To make a point.”
“What point?” wondered Miss Moran.
Lord Macklin met Teresa’s eyes and held them as he said, “That I am quite willing to be notorious.”
There was no mistaking the message in his gaze. He had done this thing for her, to prove he meant what he’d said. And he had not changed his mind about marriage. Teresa’s pulse sped.
“Why would you want to be that?” asked Poppy. “Won’t it be a great trouble?”
“No. Not the least in the world.”
“But people might snub you,” said Miss Moran.
He turned and looked at her with slightly raised brows. His expression seemed politely inquiring, but Teresa could see the unshakable aplomb behind it. “If they like,” he said, his voice laden with indifference.
“They won’t,” said Tom. “Not his lordship. The gossips will yammer and sniggle, the dog-hearted foot lickers. And then I expect everybody’ll end up admiring him in the end.”
There were murmurs of general agreement. Teresa looked around the group. These individuals of different outlook and degree all thought Tom was right. She hadn’t taken the earl’s quality and history into account. He would not be scorned. He made that impossible.
He was watching her. Not like a cat waiting for a mouse to scurry past. More like a supplicant daring to hope. She felt her face heat with a dizzying mixture of anticipation and amazement and desire. Could it be happiness, trembling in the balance? She saw him recognize…something in her face.
Arthur’s spirits soared. His stubborn love had been swayed by his…heroic deed. He was sure of it. Nearly sure. He had to ask her. He was wild to do so. She was sitting so close to him, and yet an inconvenient crowd away. He must be rid of all these people!
He hadn’t counted on the young ladies being present. He couldn’t command them as he might Tom and his comrades. Well, nothing to do but make a start. “Is there no work to be done here today?” he asked the air. The outer circle of artisans reacted to the voice of authority and began to disperse. But Tom and the young ladies, including Poppy, made no move. He was left within their circle of interested gazes. Arthur searched for words.
But he’d forgotten. He’d thrown off the shackles of propriety. He wasn’t hemmed in by them any longer. Noting that it was deuced difficult to establish new habits, he said, “Will you all please go away and let me talk to Señora Alvarez?”
“Are you finally going to speak?” asked Miss Deeping. “We have been wondering why you were waiting.”
“Charlotte,” said Miss Finch.
“Well, but we…”
“Charlotte,” said Miss Moran.
Miss Deeping held up a hand to forestall them. And then all three young ladies spoke in a practiced chorus. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“What is?” asked Poppy. “Do you practice speaking all together? It’s funny.”
“Let’s get back to it, Poppy,” Tom said to her. He rose and offered his arm. With a giggle, she stood and took it. As they walked out, Tom looked back over his shoulder, grinned at Arthur, and gave him a quick salute with his free hand. Arthur could only smile back.
The three young ladies