Sherri Cobb South by French Leave Page A

her shoulders back and thrusting her small bosom skyward. Her eyelids drooped languorously and her lips were slightly pursed, allowing him to experience the full effect of rouged mouth and kohl-ringed eyes.
    “Bon soir,” she murmured huskily.
    “Good God!” exclaimed Lord Waverly, when he could speak at all.
    Much encouraged by this utterance, Lisette closed her eyes in expectation of his passionate embrace. Great, therefore, was her surprise when she found her hand seized in a rough grasp and her person propelled none too gently from the room. She hastily caught up her skirts with her free hand as Waverly started up the stairs, all but dragging her behind. He did not release her until he reached her bedchamber on the floor above. Without a word, he crossed the room to the washstand and poured fresh water from the pitcher into the basin. He withdrew his handkerchief from the breast pocket of his coat, then plunged it into the basin, wrung it out, and, taking Lisette’s chin in his hand, very deliberately began to scrub off every trace of her painstakingly applied toilette.
    Lisette submitted to this procedure meekly enough, only asking, crestfallen, “You do not like it, milord?”
    “I think you look like a damned raccoon,” he informed her.
    Lisette’s eyes opened wide. “What is a damned raccoon, s’il vous plait?"
    “A raccoon is a small forest creature native to America. As for the other, it is a word you must not say.”
    “Why not?” demanded Lisette.
    “Because if you do, the raccoons will nip off your nose,” the earl replied without hesitation.
    “C’est absurde! How can they, if they are in America?”
    “Not all of them are there. As a matter of fact, I believe there is one in the menagerie at the Exeter ‘Change.”
    Lisette squirmed eagerly, forgetting for the moment that she was too old—and far too wicked—to take pleasure in such childish pursuits. “I think I would like to see this raccoon. Will you take me, milord?”
    “Perhaps, someday—but not if you insist upon painting yourself up like a Covent Garden strumpet! Be still now, and close your eyes.”
    Lisette complied, and Waverly dabbed the last of the black kohl from her eyelids. Her skin glowed from the force of his scrubbing, and Lord Waverly, studying his handiwork, was seized with a sudden urge to kiss her upturned face. Lisette, opening her eyes at just that moment, knew nothing of his inner struggle.   She saw only his frowning countenance and ferocious expression.
    “I—I am sorry, milord,” she stammered. “I thought it would please you.”
    “I would love to know what I have done to give you such an idiotic notion,” replied the earl unsympathetically.
    Lisette’s remorse vanished in an instant. “You said yourself that I might buy whatever I wished!” she reminded him.
    “I spoke no less than the truth. You may certainly buy all the rouge you like; you may not, however, wear it.”
    “Bah!” cried Lisette, stamping her foot in vexation.   “C’est absurde! What good is it that I should purchase cosmetics if I am not allowed to wear them?”
    “What good, indeed?” commiserated the earl, unmoved by this outburst. “I trust you will ask yourself that question next time you visit the Burlington Arcade.”
    “You are unreasonable, milord!”
    He looked down at her in mild surprise. “No, why? Because I prefer my wife’s face unadorned?”
    Lisette’s ire evaporated in an instant, and her luminous eyes grew soft. “Do you?”
    “Infinitely.”
    “I think that is the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she said unsteadily.
    “And I think you have led too sheltered a life, ma petite,” he replied. “Come now, let us go downstairs before our dinner grows cold.”
    Smiling mistily up at him, Lisette placed her hand on his proffered arm, and together they descended to the dining room in perfect charity with one another.
    * * * *
    While the earl and his countess sat down to supper in