The Other Side - J. D. Robb [53]
The clock struck, and there was a discreet tap on the door. Dalton finished off his brandy in a gulp and stood with only a little bit of a wobble. “It’s time to rejoin the ladies and see whom we can cajole into indiscretion. I seem to be having more than my usual luck with the countess tonight. Appears Fellsborough has her primed for more.”
Bettina found it hard to control the wave of fury that overcame her at Dalton’s salacious hint. Nick Bright saved her from further embarrassment when he whispered, “Calm down, brother. He’s drunk, and we all know how he can be when he is in his cups. It means nothing.”
Bettina nodded and went over to the chamber pot to relieve herself. This was one aspect of the masculine body that appealed to her. Yes, men had to shave every day, but the ease with which they could relieve themselves more than made up for the other.
Rather than wait their turn, two of the guests went out onto the terrace and used the back garden as their personal latrine, laughing at their range and duration just as her brothers used to do. It was disgusting, really. Did men never leave the boy behind?
As they made their way to the gold salon, Bettina decided that she enjoyed being with the ladies more than sharing brandy with the gentlemen. She missed the discussion of children and shopping and which of their friends was having trouble with servants.
For the most part, what she learned in the salon was a far more practical sharing of information than the lewd stories bandied about in the dining room.
Exactly what could a man do with the jokes he heard here but repeat them to other men? And politics. That was making a mountain out of an anthill. If Wellesley needed more money, then he must have it. The chance of Bonaparte succeeding in his lust for rule did not bear thinking about.
The gold salon had white walls and ceiling but all was embellished with gilded trim. It was the perfect setting for the ladies, all dressed to perfection. They were clustered in a group around one of their number, their colorful gowns shimmering around them. They looked like so many butterflies clustered around a very generous flower.
What was going on?
Nine
Bettina could smell tobacco smoke, which was odd, since the gentlemen had not smoked in the dining room. Baron Helder considered it a “disgusting habit,” and the rest had bowed to his seniority.
Bettina had her answer when she discovered Harry in the middle of the circle of ladies demonstrating how to blow circles of smoke using a cigar.
The ladies were amused and intrigued, but Harry blushed when they realized the gentlemen had joined them.
“My lady, you smoke?” Mr. Dalton took the cigar from her and drew a puff before handing it back. “I had no idea.”
“Something I learned from my brothers.” Harry pronounced the words with studied precision, a sure sign he’d had too much to drink.
“Your wife sounds just like you do when you’re drunk,” Nick Bright whispered, and Bettina wondered how many others had noticed it.
“I taught her everything she knows,” Bettina said, making for the center of the group, taking the cigar with one hand and the countess’s arm with the other. “We will leave before you show them all the other things your brothers taught you.”
“What they taught me is nothing compared to what I’ve learned from you, darling. Let’s go home and practice.”
The gathering laughed good-naturedly. Thank God this was a group of friends, or there would be endless gossip, though the teasing from friends might not be much kinder.
The carriage came quickly as they were the first to leave. Before they climbed aboard, Harry groaned and threw up into a pot that one of the Dalton grooms had the genius to have at hand. At least no one had come out to see them off, and they were spared that embarrassment.
Settled in the carriage, Bettina ordered the coachman to drive carefully and avoid bumps.
Harry shook his head. “I’m much better now.” Rubbing his eyes, her husband settled across from Bettina, ignoring the way his skirts showed ankle and leg. “I have no idea how