Free Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind by Heidi Ashworth Page B

Anthony glared at the poet posed by the window. What right had he to mince about kissing the hands of all the ladies? However, it was the memory of the kiss on Ginny’s wrist-the inside of it, no less-that caused him to grind his teeth. In fact, his teeth were so tightly clenched together, he found it difficult to put his tongue to words.
    “Sir Anthony, what am I to do?” Lord Avery spun away from the window and cast himself into a chair. “I have waited all this time for nothing, nothing! She does not love me. Her heart has not waited for me as mine has waited, waited to be near her, to breathe her air, tune my heartbeat to hers!” Mercifully, the muffled cries that followed were lost on Sir Anthony as Lord Avery had stuffed his head under the chair cushions.
    “Come, come, Avery” He pulled the lime-green cushion from Lord Avery’s head and regarded the poor, sniveling sot, his nose red and dripping. “You mustn’t let the ladies see you like this. I daresay they’ll be through the door any moment now.” He handed Lord Avery his handkerchief, which he prayed would not be returned.
    “Thank you,” Lord Avery gasped, mopping his eyes. “Quite right, you know. I would rather die than have Lucinda see me this way”
    What a blessed relief! He hated to see a grown man cry, even Avery. “Think nothing of it. See, here come the ladies now” Lucinda and Ginny walked in, looking a bit bemused. Had they heard the sobs coming down the hall? Lucinda especially looked uneasy and launched her worst bit of lisping yet.

    “I have brought Mith Delacourt with me. She thays she would very much like to play cards and tho we shall. Shan’t we, Mith Delacourt?”
    Ginny agreed and stepped over to the card table. “Sir Anthony, would the two of you help to bring the table over here? We can put more chairs around it if we pull it to the center of the room”
    “Oh, yes, I quite agree, Mith Delacourt” Lucinda tripped across the room and took Sir Anthony’s arm. “Would you be my partner? I am sure you are a most skilled player.”
    For a horrifying moment, Sir Anthony thought Lord Avery would burst into a fresh bout of tears. His chin quivered, and he bit his lower lip until the spasm passed. Sir Anthony breathed an inward sigh and seated Lucinda at the table. Lord Avery, managing to be both charming and petulant, escorted Ginny to the table and professed himself “delighted” to be her partner.
    “Oh, isn’t this marvelouth!” Lucinda’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, presumably in rapture.
    By the end of the game, which he and Lucinda won, Sir Anthony was willing to admit it had been somewhat amusing. Avery was proper and circumspect in his attentions for once, Lucinda’s lisp finally faded into oblivion, and Ginny hadn’t taunted him even once.

That night at dinner, Ginny sat and studied the faces around the table. She sensed some definite undercurrents. Squire Barrington, dressed in prime twig, was in a jovial mood. She had no doubt it was due to the wealthy bachelors seated at his table.
    Lord Avery, seated to the squire’s right, was a bit more difficult to read. He alternated between feverish good humor and morose despondency. He sported the largest diamond stickpin Ginny had ever seen. It winked with blue fire, drawing the color of his superfine coat into its breathtaking depths. She was not surprised to see the squire’s covetous gaze rest on it often.
    Surely Lucinda noticed it also. Seated next to Lord Avery, she had an eye-popping view of the decadent stickpin but seemed to make a point of not looking at it. In fact, she was giving the lion’s share of her attention to Sir Anthony, seated across from her.

    As it was perfectly acceptable to speak across the table in such an intimate setting, he lost no time in striking up an animated conversation with the pretty heiress. Ginny felt an uncomfortable burning whenever he turned his gaze to Lucinda, who looked like an angel in that gauzy