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272 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1934
"It's v-vulgar to care about Settlements, but you are very rich, are you not?"
"Very," said his lordship, preserving his calm.
"Yes," nodded Horatia. "W-well—you see!"
"I see," agreed Rule. "You are going to be the Sacrifice."
She looked up at him rather shyly. "It c-can't signify to you, can it? Except that I know I'm not a Beauty, like L-Lizzie. But I have got the Nose, sir."
Rule surveyed the Nose. "Undoubtedly, you have the Nose," he said.
Horatia seemed determined to make a clean breast of her blemishes. "And p-perhaps you could become used to my eyebrows?"
The smile lurked at the back of Rule's eyes. "I think, quite easily."
She said sadly: "They won't arch, you know. And I ought to t-tell you that we have quite given up hope of my g-growing any taller."
"It would certainly be a pity if you did," said his lordship.
"D-do you think so?" Horatia was surprised. "It is a great trial to me, I can assure you." She took a breath, and added, with difficulty: "You m-may have n-noticed that I have a—a stammer."
"Yes, I had noticed," the Earl said gently.
"If you f-feel you c-can't bear it, sir, I shall quite understand," Horatia said in a small, anxious voice.
"I like it," said the Earl.
"It is very odd of you," marvelled Horatia. "But p-perhaps you said that to p-put me at my ease?"
"No," said the Earl. "I said it because it was true."
Glamour might still have clung to a rakehell who abducted noble damsels, but no glamour remained about a man who had been pushed into a pond in full ball-dress.
She took a breath, and added, with difficulty:
"You m-may have n-noticed that I have a - a stammer."
"Yes, I had noticed," the Earl answered gently.
"If you f-feel you c-can't bear it, sir, I shall quite understand,"
Horatia said in a small, anxious voice.
"I like it," said the Earl.
When he had seen the Viscount stalking towards him at Almack's he had been quite aghast, and would have been perfectly willing to eat the rash words that had caused all the bother had not the Viscount committed that shocking rape upon his hat and wig. [...] this brutal action had roused him to a really heroic rage.
It was a good fight -- I don't remember a better. Hatred lends a spice, doesn't it?
You can't go around the club asking a lot of queer-looking strangers to come to Vauxhall with you. Besides, what should we do with them when we got 'em there?