“If I were shaped less like a macaroon and more like an Amazon, I’d want to train in the pugilistic arts.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You, Miss Maples, are very statuesque and pulchritudinous. Have you thought about pugilism?”
“Ah, no, Miss Hodwell. I would be afraid of bruising about my face. I do agree, though, a prizefight is most stimulating.”
“The Thunderbolt Club is here in force,” remarked Francesca. “And Lord Dane is ignoringyou while the other fellows leer,” she whispered in Sandrine’s ear.
“I told you that our plan would work,” Marta said. “You should ignore him as well. Don’t look at him even once today. And if he approaches you, pretend not to see him and immediately start talking to someone else.”
The rules for conquering rakes were more complicated than the boxing-match guidelines, it seemed.
“I see so many handsome gentlemen in their military uniforms,” said Marta with a happy sigh.
“And they see you. Incoming, ladies,” said Roslyn. “Sandrine, this is your chance to make Lord Dane jealous.”
A tall, blond gentleman in a beaver hat and exquisite tailoring approached their group. “Dear Miss McGovern, won’t you introduce me to this lovely creature?”
“I’d be most happy to, Baron Chisholme. This is my friend, Miss Sandrine Oliver.”
He bowed. “Very pleased to meet you. Are you the young lady who doused Lord Dane Walker with punch? I’ve been longing to meet you. Everyone is talking about you and thanking you for putting him in his place. He had that coming to him for some time. I applaud you, Miss Oliver.”
“Miss Oliver is a relation of the Earl of Amberly,” said Francesca.
“You don’t say. I went to school with Amberly. Why have I never made your acquaintance, Miss Oliver?”
“She’s been staying in a seaside resort recovering from a touch of pneumonia,” Roslyn said.
“You appear to have made a full recovery. You’re as blooming as the roses on your bonnet, if you’ll allow me to say so, Miss Oliver.”
Francesca nudged Sandrine with her elbow.
“Oh, er... thank you very much, Baron Chisholme,” she replied. “The sea air is quite beneficial. This is my very first visit to London.”
“Well then, you must allow me to accompany you to see some of our more famous sites.” He launched into a list of the destinations she must visit. He was taller than Lord Dane and very well-built, and she supposed he was handsome in a sleek, well-groomed way. Every gleaming yellow hair was perfectly in place, and his waistcoat was embroidered all over with golden pomegranates.
She hazarded a quick glance at Lord Dane. He was staring directly at her.Gloweringwould be a more accurate description. One point for the Pink Ladies.
She batted her eyelashes at Baron Chisholme and touched his arm, laughing delightedly even though he hadn’t said anything remotely humorous.
“Looks like your Miss Oliver has a suitor,” Dudley said, elbowing Dane in the ribs.
“She’s not mine,” he replied through gritted teeth. Chisholme. The biggest, dullest lout in all of London. “And if she has a suitor, it means nothing to me.”
“You don’t care that Chisholme is standing so close and leering at her like he thinks he’s won a prize purse?”
“Not even one tiny bit.”
“So if I go over there and ask her to take a carriage ride with me in Hyde Park, you won’t care?”
“Be my guest.” Lies, lies, and more lies. All he wanted to do was gallop across the field and tackle Chisholme to the ground and box him about his ears until he cried uncle.
And the only thing he could do was stand here and pretend to watch the boxing-match preparations.
The second note the blackmailers had delivered had read:Tomorrow. Crowley Heath. Tuckwell is your man. Bet large.
Everyone knew that Tuckwell didn’t stand a chance against Dodgson. The odds were three to one Dodgson. All he could surmise from the note was that they had fixed the match.