Chivalry Is Dead by Kate Kingsbury

Author:Kate Kingsbury [Kingsbury, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 1996-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

11

When Cecily went down to dinner that evening, to her dismay she was waylaid by Colonel Fortescue, who had just staggered out of the bar with a lopsided gait that quite alarmed her.

“I say, old bean,” he muttered when he caught sight of her. “Don’t suppose you know the name of that fiddle player, do you? Dashed if I can remember it.”

Cecily frowned. “I wasn’t aware that you knew her name, Colonel.”

He swayed, his bloodshot eyes staring at her through wildly flapping lids. “What? Well, bless my soul! That would account for me not remembering it, what?”

“It might,” Cecily agreed cautiously. She wondered whether perhaps the colonel had succeeded in attracting the bass player’s attention after all. “Have you had occasion to speak with Miss Barrett?”

“Miss Barrett?” The colonel blinked, reaching out a hand to steady himself against the wall. “Who the devil is Miss Barrett? Do I know her?”

“The bass player,” Cecily said, wishing she had been a little more discreet. “Her name is Miss Beryl Barrett.”

“Is it, by Jove!” The colonel uttered a loud burp and, letting go of his hold on the wall, waved a hand in front of his face. The effort threatened to unbalance him, and he grabbed the wall again.

“Perhaps you should take your seat at your table,” Cecily said, hoping the colonel wouldn’t fall on the floor before he got there.

“Table? Why, is she there?” He peered short-sightedly down the hallway.

“No, Colonel. I’m afraid you won’t be able to see Miss Barrett until the concert on Saturday night.”

“Concert? What concert? Nobody told me about any blasted concert.”

Taking a deep breath, Cecily took hold of his arm. “The string quartet, Colonel. They will be playing at the ball on Saturday night.”

“Dashed decent of them, I must say.” The colonel once more relinquished his grip on the wall and allowed Cecily to lead him to the dining room.

“Will that fiddle player be at the ball?” he asked as Cecily guided him to his table.

“The lady will be playing with the quartet,” Cecily assured him.

“Suppose I’ll have to wait until then to have a go at charming her, what?”

“I’m afraid so, Colonel.”

“Playing cat and mouse, that’s what she’s doing.” He picked up the empty wineglass by his plate and peered inside it. “Women love men to chase after them. That’s why they wear skirts, you know. Hampers their progress so the men can catch up with them.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Cecily said evenly.

The colonel peered up at her. “What? By George, madam, you should know. After all, old bean, you are a woman and all that rot. What?”

“I am indeed, Colonel. Some of us, however, do not follow the conventional customs of an outdated society. We have progressed beyond that, fortunately.”

The colonel shook his head in confusion. “Sorry, old girl. I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“That’s quite all right, Colonel. Enjoy your dinner.” She escaped before she succumbed to the temptation to give him a lecture on women’s rights. Not that he’d understand any of it, of course.

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