“Good heavens, no. We’d be here all night.”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “Was the book on architecture the only thing you read in the past month?”
“Not in the least. I pored over the latest issue ofLa Belle Assemblée, for one. It was rather thin on information about architecture, but it did have some lovely fashion plates. Those all had titles. Shall I recite them?”
“Do spare me, I beg you.”
But she could see the smile tugging at his lips. It always delighted her when she could amuse him. And if she actually got a laugh out of him, she considered it a personal triumph.
She was about to offer a particularly witty bon mot about books when two young ladies approached them. She’d met them earlier at the Palace. What were their names again? Oh, right—Lady Hypatia and Miss Clarke.
“Lady Gwyn,” Miss Clarke said with a veiled glance at Joshua. “Lady Hypatia and I were just saying how impressed we were with your presentation to the queen today. You didn’t take one step awry. Meanwhile, I nearly dropped my bracelet in Her Majesty’s lap, and Lady Hypatia stepped on her own train when she was backing out.”
“But I didn’t fall,” Lady Hypatia put in. She looked at Joshua with blatant curiosity. “I caught myself in time. You, on the other hand, were poise itself, Lady Gwyn.”
It was clear they were angling for an introduction to Joshua. That didn’t amuse Gwyn quite as much as she would have thought, probably because women had been asking her about him all evening. It had become rather annoying.
She considered letting these two dangle a bit longer, but that seemed cruel. So she introduced them to Joshua, who managed something very nearlylikea smile, about the best any stranger could hope for from him.
“Aren’t you dancing this evening, Major?” Lady Hypatia asked.
Gwyn caught her breath. What was wrong with the chit? Didn’t she realize how rude her question was? The only men allowed to have canes or walking sticks in a ballroom were those who actually needed them. Obviously, Joshua qualified.
“Afraid not,” he said tightly. “I’m on duty.” He leaned pointedly on his cane, but the two ladies were apparently too smitten by his good looks and fine uniform—or too heedless of what the cane must mean—to notice anything else.
“On duty!” Miss Clarke surveyed the supper room, then lowered her voice. “Are you guarding someone in here?”
He briefly looked taken aback. Then a sly glint appeared in his eyes as he met Gwyn’s gaze. “I am indeed.”
Gwyn glared at him. Surely he wouldn’tdaresay who. If word got out that she had a bodyguard, tongues would wag and Mama would be most unhappy.
“Can you say who it is?” Lady Hypatia asked, furtively looking around the room. “It must be someone very important. One of the dukes perhaps?”
“Perhaps,” he echoed.
Miss Clarke eyed him suspiciously. “I think you’re bamming us. You’re not on duty at all, are you, Major?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny it,” he said.
Lady Hypatia leaned in. “Tell us this, then. Have you fought in very many battles?”
“Quite a few, actually. The Battle of Berlin, the Battle of Prussia, and the Battle of Constantinople, among others.”
Gwyn lifted her gaze heavenward. How he managed to keep a straight face while spewing such balderdash was anyone’s guess.
“Were they bloody?” Lady Hypatia asked, wide-eyed.
“Oh yes.” Joshua finished his champagne. “I saw the enemy rip out the heart of one of our Royal Marines and eat it right there.”
The two ladies gasped.
That only seemed to encourage him. “There was death as far as the eye could see. The ocean reeked of blood.”
“How awful!” Miss Clarke said in a tone that said she found it fascinating.
Already annoyed that the ladies were looking at him worshipfully, Gwyn decided she’d had enough. “Pay Major Wolfe no mind. He’s making all of that up. There are no such battles, and certainly not any that included the Royal Marines.”
Joshua flashed her a look of mock outrage. “Youdoubtme, Lady Gwyn? I am deeply hurt.”
