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.I see.”“She said it was none of my business how you came to land in the suds.”“She’s a right one, Gabrielle! She never used to tattle to Miss Wilford or Papa when I found myself in a hobble, just helped me out.I say, sir, thank you for finding us a place for the summer.Is there good shooting at Wrotham?”“Come and see me tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about Wrotham.At present I am looking for your sister!”“She was dancing last time I saw her, with Sir Hubert Rathwycke, I think.”“Thank you,” said Mr Everett, with a calmness he was far from feeling.Sir Hubert again! Was Miss Darcy attracted by the undoubtedly handsome young rake? He scowled at himself in the hallway mirror as he hurried towards the sound of music.He was in time to see the end of the dance.Gabrielle and Sir Hubert were a good-looking couple, both with dark, vivid colouring, and they twirled about the floor as if they had been practising together.Mr Everett ground his teeth audibly, earning a surprised glance from an elderly matron standing nearby.The cotillion came to an end.Ladies curtsied to their partners.Pink and breathless, Gabrielle approached the door on Sir Hubert’s arm, saw Mr Everett, and greeted him eagerly.“May I have the next dance, Miss Darcy?” he requested, nodding curtly to her companion.“Of course, if you will sit it out with me.I could not stand up again immediately to save my life.” She fanned herself vigorously.“Pray excuse me, Sir Hubert, Mr Everett will take me to Lady Harrison.”Dismissed, the baronet took his leave with a bow and a smile."He is a monstrous fine dancer,” said Gabrielle as soon as he was out of earshot, “But a prodigious bore! Is it not provoking? He has no conversation beyond fulsome compliments, which are very pleasant for the first five minutes and then become insupportable.”Mr Everett's face lost its glower.“Don’t, I beg of you, let him hear you say that!” he advised her with a grin.“I can think of nothing he would consider more insulting.”“No, for he fancies himself a nonpareil, and God’s gift to the ladies.Madame says he has a raffish reputation and I should not be seen with him, but he is such an accomplished dancer and I cannot think it dangerous to stand up with him now and then.”“So long as you do nothing to set the tabbies’ tongues wagging.I have news for you.Is there somewhere we may be private?”“What, and set the tabbies’ tongues to wagging?” she mocked “The conservatory is the traditional place for such assignations, is it not?”“So I believe, though I am not practised in the art.However, Mrs Albright has provided her conservatory with an operatic soprano, and I expect her audience would boo and hiss were we to talk there.”“Suppose I challenge you to a friendly game of piquet? It will have to be for farthing points, for I am bound to lose.I can never remember the rules, so talking over the cards cannot spoil my play.”They made their way to the card room.All the tables were occupied, so they reserved one and went on to the supper room.There they joined a group of friends and acquaintances who were making inroads on the magnificent buffet of cold hams and sirloins, jellies and creams, strawberry tarts and pigeon pies.A waiter served champagne.Thirsty after her exertions on the dance floor, Gabrielle drank two glasses.She was used to wine, having been brought up on it in the French fashion, but the bubbles went to her head and made her giggle like a schoolgirl.Mr Everett thought her enchanting, but sent for lemonade.He had no wish to take advantage of her condition to win at piquet, even at a farthing a point.A servant came to tell them that their card table was free.When some of the gentlemen proposed to come and watch their play, Gabrielle—eyes sparkling—forbade them.How could she concentrate on her cards, she demanded, with doubtless well-meaning advice flowing from every quarter? She and Mr Everett escaped into the other room and settled down at a green baize table in a quiet corner.As he unwrapped the fresh pack of cards, sorted and shuffled them, Mr Everett reminded Gabrielle of the rules.She listened intently, but as she then asked with considerable indignation why there were no trumps, he decided that she thought she was playing whist.“Should there not be four players?” she said uncertainly.“No, no, Miss Darcy, we are playing piquet.” He smiled at her and patted her hand.“Should you like to deal first?”“Certainly.You must not think I am confused because of the champagne.I simply do not understand cards very well, I fear.”“I look forward to an interesting game!” he said, laughing [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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