In the Arms of the Heiress (A LADIES UNLACED NOVEL) by Maggie Robinson

see only the top of his dark head over Mrs. Merwyn’s feathers.
    “I only lie when you instruct me to, my love,” he replied, turning so she could see him. Louisa could only describe his expression as naughty, and knew at once she was in trouble.
    “Why don’t you tell me what you said, and then I can attest to your veracity.”
    “Oh, you tell the story so much better than I,
mon ange
.”
    Louisa was going to kill him off right here at Rosemont. She wondered if he could hold his breath long enough to fool the undertakers.
    “She wouldn’t tell me earlier, and now I can see why,” Grace said.
    “Oh, it wasn’t as bad as all that, Mrs. Westlake. In fact, it was rather endearing if you think about it.”
    “Come Louisa, don’t hold back,” Sir Richard sneered. “We all want to know what you were really up to while you were away.”
    “We—we spent our honeymoon in Monte Carlo,” Louisa began. At least that’s what she’d written to Aunt Grace.
    “We met, you know, at the Louvre,” Charles interrupted. “Under that ugly, dark Rembrandt, isn’t that right,
Lulu
?”
    Oh yes. Death to Max, and possibly even to Charles Cooper.
    “Anyway, neither one of us could see a damn thing—pardon me, ladies—a blessed thing in it. What was all the fuss about, anyway? All that brown and black paint, as if we were staring into the bottom of a barrel. We had a few laughs over that, and one thing led to another. I was the happiest man in the world once I convinced her to marry me, and we headed to Monte Carlo directly after the ceremony.”
    “Where was the ceremony?” Mrs. Naismith asked, just as a good vicar’s wife should.
    “St. George’s on the Rue Auguste Vacquerie,” Charles answered promptly. “It is the oldest Anglican church in Paris, although of course the building has not always been on that site.”
    So he
had
been paying attention. “Louisa drove, of course. I must say I was tempted to kiss the ground once we got there. What a little daredevil she is behind the wheel, but I have limited peripheral vision—she’ll wear the goggles in our family.”
    “I would never permit my wife to drive,” Sir Richard said.
    “As if
my
wife would ever ask for permission,” Charles said, chuckling. “She is a very modern, independent woman in every respect. An original.”
    Louisa could almost forgive him, but she had no idea what was yet to come. So she reserved her beneficence and examined her sterling-silver spoon. What an ornate pattern, so very many nooks and crannies. It must be a trial for the footmen to clean and get it to gleam so.
    “Get to the heart of the story, man!” Dr. Fentress urged.
    “Ah yes. The heart. How fitting you should mention that, Dr. Fentress, for it was hearts, or lack thereof, that caused the whole thing. We were playing bridge in our hotel suite, you see. Just a friendly game with another couple we met, Baron and Baroness von Steuben.”
    “Germans?” Aunt Grace made a moue with her carmine lips. She might serve German Mosel wine at the table, as was the fashion, but she held the country in contempt.
    “Austrians, I believe. Charming couple, weren’t they, Louisa?”
    Louisa had never played bridge in her life. She knew it was gaining popularity and similar to whist, but she didn’t play whist, either. She had no head for cards—she’d spent most of her time in Monte Carlo admiring the jewels and dresses of the other travelers and sticking her toes in the sand instead of gambling.
    “Very nice. Although Hans was a bit of a bore.” She might as well get into the spirit of things.
    “But Minna made up for him, don’t you think, darling? What a little
apfel strudel
. Anyway, hearts were trump, but Louisa miscounted. She lost the last three tricks and was forced to pay the forfeit.”
    “Someone could have seen you.” Grace clutched at her heart.
    Goodness. Now Louisa was interested in finding out exactly what scandalous thing she’d done. “Max, you’ll have to