Author: Anne Stuart she said, stating the obvious. "I'll leave the two of you alone to talk, then, while I—"
"Don't leave me,'1 Monty said plaintively, his eyes laughing. "I want the two people I love most in the world by my side when I leave this mortal world. "
"As far as I can see, you're looking a great deal healthier than you were earlier," Simon said in a subdued voice.
"All thanks to Lina's gentle ministrations. She really is quite the loveliest nurse I’ve ever had. Wouldn't you agree, Simon?"
Lina did a quarter turn, just enough to shield Monty from Pagett's gaze, and smacked him with the discarded novel. Monty immediately began a theatrical cough, strong enough that the vicar, who'd been about to leave the sickroom, immediately paused.
Monty raised his head, smiling angelically. "Stay," he said, sounding wistful. "Both of you. "
Lina had been about to leave, but Monty had a grip on her full skirt, and besides, God knows what he'd say to Pagett if she weren't around to keep him in line. She sat back down, with relatively little grace, and glowered, refusing to look at Simon Pagett as he took up a position at the fool of Monty's lavish bed. She could get through this. Indeed, she couldn't imagine why she even cared. She'd been snubbed and insulted by half the grandes dames of the ton, she was persona non grata at the best houses and hopeful mothers shooed their daughters out of her way.
Having Charlotte come live with her was already dooming her dearest friend to a life under a cloud, which was one reason she hadn't objected to bringing her out to the Revels. So why should this man's contempt bother her?
She flashed her brilliant smile at Monty, keeping her teeth clenched. "Shall I continue with our book, then?"
"I need to speak to Lady Whitmore," the vicar
"Oh, heavens, you don't need to say anything to me, Mr. Pagett. " She laughed an airy laugh. "We really have no need of conversation at all. "
Monty chuckled. "You can say whatever you need to say in front of me, Simon. Lina and I have no secrets. ”
The man made a low, annoyed sound, rather like a growl, and she couldn't resist glancing at him briefly. "I need to apologize to Lady Whitmore," he said finally, his rich voice strained. It would be a good voice from the pulpit, she thought. Full and warm and persuasive when he wasn't criticizing.
"For what?" Monty asked innocently.
"For calling me a whore," Lina supplied after Pagett was silent for a moment. She looked at him openly then, her expression under control now, her smile small and calm. "One would assume he'd know that I've been called far worse by far better people, but he seems to feel guilty about it. "
"Not 'far better people’ pet," Monty said. "I'm certain the good vicar is better than anyone else. Or at least he clearly thinks so. Don't you, Simon?" There was a silken edge to Monty's weak voice, and Lina felt a flush of gratitude. Apart from Charlotte there was no one she could trust to defend her the way Monty did.
"Every time I think I've made a little spiritual progress my own idiocy shows me how wrong I am," Pagett said with a frankness that would have disarmed a less stony heart than Lina's. "I have no right to judge anyone, and I apologize to you. Lady Whit-more, and to you, Thomas, for insulting a guest under
"And do you accept his apology, Lina?" Monty purred.
Lina wanted to tell him to stuff it up his bum, but Monty's thin hand left its grip on her skirt and reached for her hand. She had no choice. "Of course I do," she said sweetly. "Though there's no need for him to make such a fuss of it. I'm used to it. "
"There now," Monty said, his frail voice full of mischievous satisfaction. "Now that we're all friends again, let's plan my funeral. "
It was a long, oddly companionable night Monty, having recovered his strength, refused to sleep, and Lina told herself she was loath to leave him to Simon's tender mercies. She almost believed it.
They'd played piquet—two against one. Monty and Lina, whispering and giggling, won seventeen thousand pounds from the vicar's nonexistent fortune. In turn, he trounced them both soundly at silver too, gloating with unchristian zeal. When night passed into morning Lina's hair was down her back, her beauty patch had long since disappeared and she was sitting cross-legged on Monty's huge bed, dealing like a practiced sharp, while Simon's sedate coat and neckcloth had been tossed aside, his hair had come loose and he was viewing his two opponents with amused distrust.
“Are the two of you cheating?" He was stretched out at the foot of the bed, looking remarkably relaxed and almost human, Lina thought.
“If I were a man I would call you out for that," she replied in a non-offended voice. She'd been cheating quite flagrantly.
“So would I," Monty said with a laugh.
"Maybe I'd best give up gaming as well as whoring and drinking," Simon added. "I appear to be remarkably bad at it. "
“In truth, I thought you had," Monty said lazily.
"I'd given up play with real stakes. Since real money wasn't being wagered. . . "
“I beg your pardon," Lina said. ''Does that mean you aren't going to pay me the twenty-seven hundred pounds you owe me?”
He laughed. "I believe the final number was in my favor. Lady Whitmore. You owe me three hundred and forty pounds. "