Free Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind by Heidi Ashworth Page A

Avery. It would give him a way to pass the time. Besides, she couldn’t possibly look forward to a lifetime of listening to his insipid poetry. Then again, she was not a girl without resources. It seemed that lisping baby talk could be unsheathed at will. Twenty years of that could pall on a man of even Lord Avery’s stamp.
    How he was to deal with either of them for the duration of the quarantine was a more troubling question. By the time Sir Anthony pushed open the drawing room door, he had developed a headache and a ferocious frown.
    “Why, Sir Anthony, whatever is the matter?” Mrs. Barrington’s shrill cry shrieked in his pounding head.
    Sir Anthony forced a smile. He had one for every occasion. This was the one he used for matchmaking mamas: charming but aloof. When Mrs. Barrington gave him a queer look and rushed out the door mumbling something about dinner preparations, he relabeled it his how-to-get-rid-of-Mrs. Barrington smile and sat down.

    “Lord Avery, I understand you are to be staying on with us. It is good of you to wish to entertain the young ladies, but not at all necessary. You have not been exposed, I assure you.” He was assured he couldn’t put up with Lord Avery’s dramatics for a single evening, let alone weeks of them.
    Lucinda and Lord Avery turned to him with a jerk and stared at him in consternation. Anyone could see they had plenty to be concerned about. They were so close on the sofa, practically touching.
    “What concern is it of yours, pray tell?” Lord Avery took Lucinda’s hand and drew it to his lips.
    “Lord Avery .. ” Lucinda gasped, fluttering her eyelids. She withdrew her hand and turned to Sir Anthony. “We were just discussing how we should pass the time during our confinement. I must say, it is much more pleasant to have the company of you two, as well as that of Miss Delacourt. When I had the spots, there was no one to amuse me” Lucinda’s lips pressed in a pretty little pout. “But now there are the two of you, and I daresay I shall be vastly entertained.” She clapped her hands, which had the effect of clashing cymbals in Sir Anthony’s throbbing head.
    “But, my darling, I have waited so long to have you to myself.” Lord Avery possessed himself once more of Lucinda’s hand. “I have been in a fever to see you since last we met.”

    Lucinda had the grace to look a trifle uncomfortable. “Oh yeth, it was at the Woolthley-Smythe house. Sir Anthony, were you not invited to that do?”
    Sir Anthony felt himself powerless to reply. The lisp had returned. Was she attempting to attract him with her fabricated town-bronze or drive him mad?
    “Leave him be,” Lord Avery demanded. “Perhaps he is fevering with the pox himself.”
    “His eyes have taken on a bit of a glassy look,” Lucinda murmured.
    “Dear heart, we must find a place where we can be alone. I cannot bear to have another man feast his eyes on your loveliness,” Lord Avery said, daring a tiny kiss to one of Lucinda’s fingers.
    “Sir!” Lucinda cried. “Pray, remember yourself.” She sprang to her feet and moved to a window. “Sir Anthony, Lord Avery and I have been playing cards. It has been such fun! Do you think Miss Delacourt would come and play too? We could have a game of whist or picquet.”
    “I think that is a well-informed idea, Miss Barrington. The sooner we learn to entertain ourselves, the better.”
    Lord Avery scowled, rose, and stationed himself at a mullioned window on the opposite side of the room from Lucinda. Sir Anthony couldn’t help but notice Avery had chosen the window with the most amount of sunlight, creating a positive halo around his golden locks.
    Lucinda gathered the skirts of her pretty blue muslin frock in her hands and headed for the door. “I’ll go get her. Perhapth later we can play a game of hunt the slipper,” she lisped. The sound of the door slamming behind her was like the hammering of nails in a coffin. Preferably, Lord Avery’s.

    Sir