LITMIR.BIZ

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her nose.

      “What a wonderful suggestion, Clarice,” Dany said, wishing she had been able to find a way beyond the Miss Foster and the my lord considering they were betrothed, for pity’s sake. But now Clarice had done it for her. Americans were so refreshing. “Isn’t it—Coop?”

      She shot another glance toward Coop, who was still avoiding making eye contact with her or anyone else in the coach. Was he outraged? Dumbfounded? Embarrassed? No, wait, he was experiencing some difficulty with his breathing, wasn’t he, and the eye she could see had begun to water slightly. He was near to killing himself, trying not to laugh.

      Ahhh...wasn’t that sweet.

      She couldn’t let him suffer like that, poor thing. He might burst something important.

      “I couldn’t agree with you more completely, Clarice. Formalities are so—oh, what could be the proper word? My lord Townsend—dearest Coop, I should say—as you have yet to contribute to this delightful conversation, could you be so kind as to assist me?”

      His lips pressed tightly together, Coop’s only answer was a quick shake of his head. Clearly he dared not open his mouth.

      “No? Oh, that’s too bad. Oh, wait, I’ve got it now. Everyone, tell me if I’ve got it right, please. Formalities are so...formal.”

      Clarice pointed her finger at Dany. “Exactly!”

      It was entirely possible Lord Cooper Townsend hadn’t laughed, really laughed, in quite some time. If so, he was definitely correcting that lapse now, only able to catch his breath for a moment, at which time he managed to whisper to Dany, “I’m going to kill you,” before going off again.

      “It’s the worry, poor man,” Clarice said, nodding knowingly. “Jerry here told me he’s in some sort of terrible trouble, although friend that he is, he won’t say just what. But I’ll get it out of him eventually. Oh, dear, now he has the hiccups, doesn’t he? Jerry, check to see if there’s a flask in the coach pocket. Nothing like holding your nose while downing some strong spirits to beat away the hiccups. Or, as my uncle Soggy, the privy master, often said, ‘Make you not care that you’ve still got them.’ Oh, Jerry, that’s right, you don’t have to nudge me. I shouldn’t have said that, although for the life of me I don’t know why, seeing as how all of you bow and scrape to your privy councillor. A privy is a privy, Jerry, and that will never change.”

      “Clarice,” Rigby said in a strangled voice, “I’ve told you. There’s a whacking great difference between your uncle Soggy, who digs privies, and the privy councillors who got their name because it once was the custom for kings to discuss secrets in the privy because that’s the only place His Royal Highness didn’t have to worry about being overheard.”

      “It seems to me you can hear lots of things in a privy,” Clarice pointed out with a pout.

      For a moment, Dany feared the baron might roll right off the padded squabs, doubled up in hilarity. But he stopped himself, manfully, she decided, and somehow gathered up the pieces of his humor and tucked them back inside his gentlemanly self. “Forgive me,” he said, pausing for one final hiccup. “Clarice, you are a treasure beyond price.”

      “Thank you, Coop, but that isn’t true. Today, for scolding me when I said nothing so terribly wrong, I think that price will be a new bonnet. Won’t it, Jerry, love?”

      “Two, if you fancy more than one,” her beloved promised as the coach drew to the curb. “And here we are, a mere block from Bond Street. How long, Coop?”

      Coop pulled out his pocket watch and Rigby did the same. “Half past noon should do it. Remember, we’ll stroll in after you by some minutes. We can’t take the chance of raising Mrs. Yothers’s suspicions. Do you know what you’re going to say, Clarice?”

      The blonde was busy gathering her things. Gloves, reticule and the lace-edged parasol she then handed to Rigby. “Don’t you worry about me, silly. The duchess says I lie better than her best Aubusson carpet. That’s a compliment, sweetie,” she told Rigby as he managed to back out of the carriage with his walking stick and the parasol in one hand, Clarice clutching the other and warning him to mind her skirts.

      The door closed and the coach moved on.

      “Dany? You did nothing but sit there while I made an utter fool of myself. You weren’t amused?”

      He’d called her Dany. Well, about time, considering they were supposedly going to marry. Really, she was liking him more and more. Which was probably also a good thing, unless it became a bad thing, which could also happen.

      The insides of her cheeks had nearly come to grief, holding back her own amusement, but somehow she’d remained silent, one might even say composed. “I was amused. A person would have to be my sister to not be amused.”

      “Then I congratulate you on your composure. In my defense, I was not making fun of Clarice.”

      “No, of course not. She does that very well on her own, and seems to enjoy doing so. You were probably chortling too hard to notice that she winked at me. Who is she, really? I mean, other than Miss Goodfellow of the Fairfax County Virginia Goodfellows.”

      “She was raised with Thea, Gabe’s soon-to-be bride, and traveled here as her ladies’ maid. But nobody can know that. Rigby took one look at her and tumbled into love, so now the duchess is turning her into a lady. She’s doing very well actually. It’s only been a few weeks, if that. She still has the occasional slip of the tongue.”

      “Deliberate slips,” Dany told him. “I think I’m going to like her very much. But now, if you don’t mind, perhaps you’ll tell me what’s going on, please. I thought we were going to Mrs. Yothers’s establishment to...to reconnoiter.”

      “We were, but after I left you last night, Darby and Rigby and I came up with a different idea. We don’t want to appear too suspicious or heavy-handed, you understand. Unless you planned to march inside, grab a hat pin and threaten her with it if she didn’t talk.”

      “No, I dismissed that idea in the first five minutes. I spent the remainder of the night waiting for inspiration that never arrived, which is very lowering, because I’m usually quite good at what my mother would term conniving. In my defense, I believe worry for Mari froze my brain. I loathe saying this, but I fear this expedition is all in your hands.”

      “You wouldn’t mind writing that down, would you?”

      “And my sister accuses me of being facetious. Oh, speaking of Mari. I told her what you said I should tell her and she’s completely happy and relaxed, certain her worries are over. For once in my life, I took no pleasure in lying to her.”

      “You couldn’t tell her the truth,” Coop said as the coach stopped again. “Are you ready?”

      Dany peeked out the side window. “This isn’t Mrs. Yothers’s establishment. Where are we?”

      He waited for the footman to lower the steps, and then helped Dany to the flagway before he answered. “Promise me you won’t cause a scene.”

      “Why would I—where are we going?”

      “Minerva—that is, my mother tells me this is the second best jeweler shop in town,” he said as the footman ran ahead to open the door to a small shop. “Ah-ah, don’t dig in your heels, Miss Foster. You are about to choose what will become the Townsend betrothal ring. Generations to follow depend on your good judgment.”

      “Generations to follow depend on your ability to find a willing bride, or they won’t follow at all,” she told him, her heart pounding.

      “You and I know that, but if we’re to convince the world differently, you need a ring, especially since my mother and the duchess spent last evening telling all and sundry that the hero of Quatre Bras is about to become leg-shackled. I’ve already had three impassioned, tearstained missives from young ladies begging me to change my mind, and my man had to turn away one persistent mama who declared it wasn’t fair of

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