Chapter Four

      Bored, in Uncle Crispin’s dining room before the Renshaw ball

      This was the second night in a row that the Earl of Redditch had been invited to dine and the second Fliss had had the misfortune of being seated opposite him. Just as he had during yesterday’s dinner, the Earl had slurped his soup, chewed with his mouth open and used his hand to cover said mouth only after one of his many belches had escaped. Meanwhile, her uncle fawned over the fellow as if he were visiting royalty, while Daphne and Cressida quaffed the wine like it was going out of fashion.

      For the sake of family harmony and out of ingrained politeness, Fliss had put on a brave face and made a concerted effort to engage with the dull conversation about canals right up until her uncle had begun to extoll her virtues to the fusty old Earl in the same way one would list the attributes of a fine horse up for sale at Tattersall’s. ‘As you can see, my niece is a sensible girl. Well read and not prone to the silly behaviour many of the younger debutantes display. The extra few years of maturity set her apart from the rest.’

      Why on earth was he giving her indirect compliments when he could barely tolerate to be in her presence most of the time? Unless he was attempting to project an aura of the doting uncle? Fliss pasted on a smile and tried to think of a suitable response. She was spared the effort by the Earl.

      ‘I approve of sensible gals.’ He said this with a spray of pastry crumbs from the apple tart he was in the process of demolishing. ‘Can’t be doing with chits who have no common sense.’