“Two days later, as I was writing a letter to Anne in the withdrawing room, there was a ruction in the hall and Willoughby stormed in unannounced. "Good God, Willoughby, what is it?" "You're responsible for this, Elizabeth." "For what?" "Cecilia has run off with your pet chirurgeon." "With Charles? If she did you must have provoked her. What have you been doing, tying her to the bedpost?" "Clearly, I ought." We stared at each other. Willoughby was ruffled, his cravat awry and his hair mussed. As... I had never seen him with a hair out of place my fascination may be forgiven. Perhaps he sensed my amusement. His mouth thinned. "Why did you suddenly set your cap for Bevis, Elizabeth, dear? He was ready to offer for Cecy. I laid odds on it. You failed to bring Bevis up to scratch five years ago. Do you fancy you can do the trick at eight-and-twenty?" I went cold, but a thread of common sense held my wrath in bounds. I said in a carefully level voice, "I don't follow your drift, but your tone is insulting.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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