Lillias turned toward Claire, her eyes lit with suppressed laughter, and Hugh was briefly dazzled.
“Are you advocating for all of us to go to the devil, Mother?” Lillias said innocently.
Claire bit her lip on a laugh.
Delacorte’s head shot up at this. It pivoted beseechingly this way and that to note reactions.Surelythis warranted a trip to the epithet jar for the young lady.
“Did you hear... what she... what she said...” he prompted weakly. Chagrined at his lack of chivalry, itching for a little justice. And perhaps a little revenge.
It could not be denied that Lillias had said “go to the devil.” One simply did not say that in proper company any more than one ought to say “bollocks.” It could not be construed as anything other than naughty.
A slightly uneasy silence settled over the room.
It was a conundrum.
Angelique, the former governess, finally spoke. “Well, you pose an interesting question, Mr. Delacorte. I think perhaps it’s a bit of a technicality, as her reference in this instance was to Hades, the place. Perhaps it would warrant a trip to the jar if she had requested that one ofusgo to...” she lowered her voice delicately “...go to where she said we ought to go.”
“May I choose which person should go?” Lillias said gravely.
“Lillias,” her mother said exasperatedly.
“If Hades has comfortable knitted pillows and Helga’s sconesI’dwillingly go,” Hugh said, as if Lillias hadn’t been talking about him all along, “but something tells me Persephone isn’t the type to condescend to see to a man’s comforts.” He paused, pretending to mull. “Might I suggest that in instances where the intent was not so clear—where indeed the speaker might be attempting to, oh,get away with something he or she ought not—weought to take a vote? It would be a useful precedent going forward.”
Lillias made a small indignant sound in her throat.
“I do like voting!” Dot enthused.
“Well, what sort of ambiguous circumstances do you anticipate, Mr. Cassidy?” Mrs. Hardy wondered.
He gave it some thought. “For instance, what if I told Mr. Delacorte that I was looking for a place to store my cricket balls, and I had a fine wooden box to put them in. But wanted to prevent thieves from opening the box. What would I need?”
“Why ball locks, of course,” Delacorte said at once, with a satisfied smile.
Which flipped upside down with horror when he realized what he’d said.
“In this circumstance,” Hugh said, “I would say that Delacorte ought to be exempt from the penalty.”
“I should say so!” Delacorte agreed, indignantly. “Entrapment!”
“Well, that sounds like a fair solution.” Delilah could sense some sort of mischief was afoot but couldn’t really see a good reason to stop it.
“Ha,” Mr. Delacorte said under his breath.
Lillias shot him a glare that had him ducking his head into his shoulders again. Her glares were powerful indeed.
All of this was for Delacorte’s sake, really, Hugh told himself. She was enjoying herself just a little too much at his expense.
“The rules are the rules, Lady Lillias,” Hugh said, sorrowfully.
Even her withering gazes were worth withstanding. Although . . . there was something lurking at the corner of her mouth that might—might—have been reluctant amusement.
He shrugged one shoulder, pityingly.
“We shall recuse ourselves from the vote, as we are your hostesses, and we will abide by your decision,” Angelique said. Delilah and Angelique lowered their knitting to their laps.
Mr. Cassidy spoke. “All those in favor of Lady Lillias putting a pence in the jar, raise your hand.”
And up went Hugh’s hand immediately. “I think it’s for the best,” he said sadly. “When one wants civilizing, the epithet jar is there to help.”