Page 40 of The Unlovable Lady

Rosalind gave her a look, and Charlotte smiled sweetly, and the waiter went away.

“Charlotte has spoken of you for a fortnight,” Miss Lennox said, leaning in. “Constantly. We were obliged to meet you in self-defense.”

“I have not spoken constantly,” Charlotte protested.

“You told us Lady Rosalind saved a dinner, tied holly better than anybody in London, danced with Lord Dover, and once said Lady Marbury keeps a very good table when everybody knew she meant something else.”

Rosalind turned to Charlotte, who had the grace to look only slightly guilty. “I may have mentioned you.”

“You have apparently published me.”

James’s mouth curved before he could govern it, and Miss Lennox caught it at once. “There. She is funny. You did not invent that part.”

“I told you.”

Rosalind felt herself beginning to smile despite every intention of not encouraging them.

A tray arrived with cups, plates, and more small cakes than any sensible party required, and Rosalind reached automatically to make room.

Miss Mayfield put one hand flat upon the table before Rosalind could move the sugar bowl. “No.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are about to arrange the table.”

“The plate is too near the edge.”

“It has been there for three seconds and has not fallen.”

“It will if somebody catches it.”

Miss Lennox immediately put both hands in her lap. Charlotte did the same. James regarded his own hands a moment and then folded them with grave care, and Rosalind looked around a table of grown people all sitting on their good behavior like children in a pew.

“This is absurd.”

“It is an experiment,” said Miss Mayfield, “on whether five grown people can survive a badly placed plate.”

Rosalind looked at the plate again. It was indeed too near the edge. Nobody touched it, and nothing whatever happened, and at last she made herself sit back and leave it where it stood.

“There.”

Charlotte beamed. “I am proud of you.”

“I dislike all of you.”

“No, you do not,” said Miss Lennox cheerfully. “You have known me twenty minutes and have not had time.”

The orange biscuits came last, and the waiter set them nearest Miss Lennox, who lifted the plate at once and passed it past Charlotte and Miss Mayfield both. “For Lady Rosalind. Now you may dislike me if they are bad.”

They were not bad. They were crisp at the edge and bitter with orange beneath the sugar, and Rosalind took a second one without being pressed to it. James noticed — of course he noticed — and said nothing, which she liked him for.

“And what have you been doing in Town, before Charlotte found you?” Miss Mayfield asked.

Rosalind almost said very little, for the old answer came ready. Instead she considered. “I have been to more parties in three weeks than I attended in three years at home.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Miss Lennox said.

“It is.”