The Virtuous Ward - By Karla Darcy Page 0,69

of sticky buns will do little to enhance her figure. But then it is an innocent enough vice."

Amity stared daggers at Max but managed a smile as Ophelia, mouth pinched in disapproval, turned to her. "Lord Kampford will have his little joke. In point of fact I abhor sticky buns," she said, drawing in a deep breath before she filled Lady Paige's cup. She passed it without incident, wanting to wipe her perspiring hands on her skirts before attempting another.

"Will you be leaving town soon, Lady Paige?" Max asked, his eyebrows raised in interested question. "Now that the summer heat has arrived it appears to be quite uncomfortable."

"Brother and I will be going to Bath," she said, her words sparing as if she begrudged the use of each one. "As a child, Bancroft was a puny thing but each year I have seen to it that he takes the waters. As you can see, he has benefited from such an efficacious cure."

"Ophelia has been lucky to find rooms near the Crescent," Bancroft said, smiling at his sister. "She is able to walk to the Pump Room each day for her morning glass. Since I am never quite sure how long I will be staying, I have been putting up at the inn. But Sister, prefers to stay as long as the company is interesting."

"I was never a great believer in drinking medicinal waters," Max said, earning a look of condemnation from Ophelia. "Believe me, Lady Paige, you are far braver than I. I was in Bath for a week a year ago and availed myself of the much-vaunted cure. One taste and I poured out my glass into the nearest potted plant. By the end of my stay, the plant looked decidedly peaky and was beginning to turn brown."

Bancroft chuckled at the joke as he leaned over the tea table, accepting the cup for Lady Grassmere and carrying it across to the chaperone who was busy with the needlework in her lap.

"You look exceptionally well, Amity," he said when he returned to her side.

Before Amity could thank him for the compliment, Max leaned over to Ophelia and whispered in a voice that was quite audible to all, "You will be quite pleased that Amity has such a nicety of taste. She never stints on her wardrobe but the extravagant prices are well worth it for the savoir faire of her ensembles."

One look at Ophelia's face, sent Amity's heart plummeting to her satin slippers. The woman did not sniff but it was apparent she could not applaud either extravagance or savoir faire. A tremor invaded her arm as she extended Bancroft's cup. She was saved from disaster when he removed it from her hand and she heaved a sigh of relief.

"I must agree that your ward is always dressed in the first stare of fashion," Bancroft said into the heavy silence of the room.

For a moment Amity had an overpowering urge to stick her tongue out at Max. He was oblivious to her beau's ready defense, concentrating his attention on the ceiling while his hand played with the lid of the wicker basket beside his chair. She could not understand what he was about. His conversation thus far had been both outrageous and provocative. He must be aware that his comments were not easing an already tense situation.

Amity's fingers felt wooden as she poured her own tea and raised the cup to her lips. She took a sip, hoping the soothing brew would calm her rattled nerves. Wanting to signal Max her distress, she raised her eyes to glare across at him, but she was caught by the sight of the wicker basket which seemed to be moving of its own volition. It was only when the top inched upward and a ginger-colored paw snaked over the rim that Amity dropped her cup.

Chapter Twelve

The teacup dropped from Amity's nerveless fingers, hitting once against the edge of the table before it toppled to the carpet. She opened her mouth to call a warning as the top of the wicker basket opened farther but the words froze on her tongue. In slow motion the top raised and slid sideways onto the floor. With a loud hiss and a scrabbling of claws on the reedy sides, the ginger cat exploded from its wicker prison. She sprang into the air and with balletic grace landed in the very center of the tea table between the tea service and the pastries.

For a moment nobody moved, so