Murder While I Smile by Joan Smith

Author:Joan Smith [Smith, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Mystery/Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1998-10-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Prance went swanning across the busy ballroom, bowing to friends and acquaintances. “Charming, Lady Honoria,” he said to the youngest daughter of the Duke of Cheam, who looked particularly ugly that evening in a puce gown that ill became both her sluggish complexion and her years. She had apparently not heard his decree that only ladies over seventy with snow-white hair ought to be allowed to wear that overpowering shade of red. He continued on to Luten and Corinne, where he made a graceful bow.

“Corinne, the belle of the ball, as usual. Lovely party.”

As the party was far from a squeeze, and in fact very few of their friends were present, Corinne realized his euphoria had some other cause than the company.

“You are in high feather this evening, Prance,” she said. “Do I smell a romance between you and Lady Honoria?”

Prance rolled his eyes ceilingward. “Please! I thought you knew my standards better than that. No, I prefer older ladies this season. Autumn is the time for a more mature lady. Someone who knows all the ways of love.”

“Who is she?” Luten inquired. “Not Lord Halley’s wife, I trust? He called out young Franklin last week.”

“It is bound to happen when a gentleman is so unwise as to go falling in love with his wife,” Prance said airily. He shot a keen glance at Luten and added, “But then I need not warn you of that, eh, Luten?”

“The warning comes too late for me, I fear.”

Prance gave him a deprecatory smile, then glanced sadly at Corinne and shook his head. “No, it is not Halley’s charming lady. Blondes have no appeal to me at the moment. It is a widow, so I need not fear her mari will challenge me, though I am not sure about her other lovers.” He trusted that French word would alert Luten as to the lady’s identity.

If Luten understood the hint, he gave no indication of it. It was Corinne, with her sharp feminine intuition and her interest in the comtesse, who leapt on the truth.

“Reggie! You are not seeing Chamaude!”

He pokered up. “Have you something against the lady?” he asked

“Oh, you don’t know what we discovered this afternoon. Tell him, Luten.”

Luten was too suave to glower, but he shot Prance an icy stare from his cold gray eyes. “Perhaps this had best be discussed in private,” he suggested.

“The library,” Prance said. “It’s bound to be empty. No one reads in this house.”

Excitement caused unaccustomed flags of red to bloom on his sallow cheeks as he led the others to the library. Coffen spotted the group and went hastening after them, catching them up just as they reached the sofa.

“How’d it go with Chamaude, Prance?” he asked, in no soft voice.

“Your advice was sound, Pattle. It went—” He kissed two fingers to his lips. “Exquisitely. Perfection!”

“So it is Chamaude!” Corinne said.

“Indeed she is my new mistress. You may congratulate me that she chose me over other contenders.” A smirk decorated his lips as he looked at Luten.

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