14. Coming and Going

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"You know," I chose that moment to pitch in, "I think there is a certain species of bear living around these parts that really loves chewing on silk dresses. They are also particularly hairy, and regularly hunt virgins, which they drag to their lair and devour whole."

It was quite impressive how, with one sentence, I could make two men who were mortal enemies stare at me as if they wanted to join hands to kill me. Both Karim and the vicomte seemed ready to jump at me at a moment's notice.

I leaned over to Mr Ambrose. "You know...I think they found my remark unbearable."

"Indeed, Mrs Ambrose?"

"Indeed, Sir."

"Well, for the vicomte, I suppose it is understandable." I sighed, gesturing at the destroyed gifts in his hands. "After being pelted by so many disappointments..."

Behind me, Adaira gave a snort, and her shoulders shook.

"Although, considering what has happened, he is still showing great forbearance."

I heard a wheeze, and something slumped against my back. It almost felt like a person who was trying to stay upright. Oh my, was my dear sister-in-law unwell?

By the looks of it, the vicomte was, too. His face had gone pale, and the vein at his temple was throbbing as if he was about to have a heart attack.

Which would be such a pity.

Really.

"Toi...!" Whirling to face me, DeMordaunt's hand tightened around his rifle. He started to stalk towards me, and—

"Not very impressive." A familiar, icy voice froze him in mid-motion. "Don't you agree, father?"

"I'm afraid I have to concur with my son." Everyone present couldn't help but look at the marquess as he spoke. Towering over the people in the yard from his high position atop the stone stairs, he looked down at everyone, or maybe on everyone. With someone like him, it was hard to tell. "This little performance was rather disgraceful for a man of your standing, Monsieur Vicomte. I shall expect a better showing next time."

The Frenchman whirled towards the mansion, a spark of fury flashing in his eyes—or at least, so I thought. I only blinked once, and any sign of irritation had vanished from the nobleman, his face smoothed out, his lips forming a kind smile.

"I humbly apologise, Your Lordship. I wished so much to please my wife-to-be with the presents I had prepared...it was a hard blow to learn they had all been destroyed. I cannot bear to disappoint my love."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

Smooth, you bastard. Smooth.

Not that I would ever believe a word of it.

"You wish to please my daughter? Then I recommend you put more effort into it next time."

"What an excellent suggestion, Marquess! I bow before your wisdom and shall follow your advice forthwith. Allons-y, Messieurs!"

Snapping his fingers, the vicomte instantly gained his men's full attention. They straightened abruptly and, as he strode off, hurriedly followed in his wake. From atop the stairs, the marquess watched the nobleman's retreating back for a moment—then whirled around and stalked back into the house. His wife sent a last, helpless look our way before she followed her husband inside.

For a moment, silence hung over the courtyard.

"So..." I finally asked. "What now?"

Adaira's head popped up over my shoulder. "How about you tell your dear sister about the 'fierce beast' that ravaged the poor vicomte's possessions? Do you think it can turn into a handsome prince and whisk me away?"

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