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Fletch rose and bowed "If you’ll forgiveat hi her"

"I--"

"Beg her to come back Tell her you finally found yourself a courtesan and you won’t use her like a common washer-woman any more"

"I shall certainly speak tothe ih who he wanted to kill--his mother-in-law or his wife--he didn’t know

"When Perdita agrees to return to your house, I shall naturally return to my own," she said sweetly "That should provide you with some impetus, should it not? I expect you wonder why I around out, "given your self-proclaimed selfishness--"

She didn’t let him finish, of course "I don’t believe Perdita should reside er with the Duchess of Beauhter fancied herself in love with you, don’t you?"

He didn’t move a muscle

"Don’t you?" she said io At any rate, she’s a trifle weak in the head, h it pains ht-heeled duchess in Beauain--and it won’t be with you, Duke Do you understand me?"

He nodded

"She’s a ro than they could possibly be You know that strange hankering she has to attend s at the Royal Society?"

"She has?"

Lady Flora s to Perdita? You didn’t know of her utter fascination with naturalists? Why do I even ask?"

Fletch shook his head He felt cold fro--"

"Not yet But there’s no saying now that she’s moved out of your house into Beaumont House where God knows adultery is ed in"

"I shall speak to Poppy"

"As soon as she moves back into this house, I shall return to ht point out that the dearth of children produced by you in the past four years iht be just the thing to revitalize the family tree!"

Fletch had never hated anyone so h his head like a wildfire His fingers shook slightly with the wish to--to--

She rose and walked rather quickly to the door "I wish you good night, Your Grace," she said And paused, turning her head in such a way that one of her ostrich pluainst the doorframe "I trust that you will not inforel, hopes to drift through life without talking about unpleasantries But relations between men and women are always unpleasant, don’t you think? I find that candor is a healthy way to cope"

She walked through the door, finally, and fro to the ceiling and one hanging drunkenly over one ear Which served her right

Chapter 27

Back at the Duke of Villiers’s town house

"You ought to be sorry," Charlotte said, hiccupping "You are unkind, and the fact that you’re dying is no excuse I don’t believe that you are, anyway Dying people think of their immortal souls and speak kindly"

"I told you," he said, "iven up, knowing that I’ll be shoveling coal down in Beelzebub’s furnaces"