“She thumped her weapon (others might call it a cane, but heknew better) against the floor. “Fell off your horse?”“No, I—”“Tripped down the stairs? Dropped a bottle on your foot?” Herexpression grew sly. “Or does it involve a woman?”He fought the urge to cross his arms. She was looking up at himwith a bit of a smirk. She liked poking fun at her companions; she’donce told him that the best part of growing old was that she couldsay anything she wanted with impunity.He leaned down and said with great gravity, “Actually, I wasstabbed by my valet.”It was, perhaps, the only time in his life he’d managed to stunher into silence.Her mouth fell open, her eyes grew wide, and he would haveliked to have thought that she even went pale, but her skin had suchan odd tone to begin with that it was hard to say. Then, after amoment of shock, she let out a bark of laughter and said, “No,really. What happened?”“Exactly as I said. I was stabbed.” He waited a moment, thenadded, “If we weren’t in the middle of a ballroom, I’d show you.”“You don’t say?” Now she was really interested. She leaned in,eyes alight with macabre curiosity. “Is it gruesome?”“It was,” he confirmed.She pressed her lips together, and her eyes narrowed as sheasked, “And where is your valet now?”“At Chatteris House, likely nicking a glass of my best brandy.”She let out another one of her staccato barks of laughter.”

Julia Quinn

Julia Quinn - “She thumped her weapon (others might call...” 1

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