A Certain Want of Reason Read Online Free Page B

Peggy could repair her gown in privacy. Although, for the moment, it was strangely pleasant, things being just exactly as they were.
    That made no sense at all. Why should it be pleasant to be trapped in a room with a madman, handsome or no?
    He reached over to pick up her reticule. Then, with admirable agility, he leapt to his feet and handed it to her with a slight bow. “Yours, I believe?”
    “Yes, thank you.” Her gloved hands felt enormously clumsy as she accepted the bag from him.
    “A nice party, is it not?” The young man seated himself in the other chair and looked about the room as if gazing on a large assembled company.
    “Err, yes.” Lucia had actually seen very little of the party, but she supposed the festivities carried on well enough in her absence.
    “I do believe, though, that it is about time for Adrington to bring his decor into the nineteenth century.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Look at this ghastly collection! Kept on display only to remind the rest of us how long the family has held its estates.”
    “That seems a rather uncharitable judgment.” She sat back with a frown. “I wonder, would you voice such opinion in front of the family?”
    “I have done, on many occasions.” He grinned. “To no avail, obviously.”
    She felt her eyes widen with surprise. “Oh. And you were not concerned that you might offend the sensibilities of your friends?”
    “No. After all, ‘He that departs with his own honesty for vulgar praise doth it too dearly buy’.”
    “Yes, I do agree with that, but there are times…” Where had she heard those words before? From a book of plays? Sermons? Poetry? The quotation seemed so familiar.
    “Would you care to dance, then?”
    She blinked. “No. No, thank you. I-I promised that I’d remain in this room.”
    “We can dance here.” He bowed. “I’d be honored.”
    “No.” The gentleman was mad, however engaging his appearance. Moreover, had the Prince himself asked her dance, she could rise only if the chair somehow remained miraculously attached to her backside.
    “Why not? I see you are not engaged to dance with anyone else.”
    Lucia struggled to think of an excuse that would not offend him. “I… There’s no music in here.”
    “Music? You require music. Very well, I shall sing for us. ‘A bonny lass one day went walking,’” he began in a fine baritone, “‘met with a gent and set to talking—’”
    He stopped abruptly, and she had the sickening sensation that he was going to drop to the floor and howl again.
    But he did not. “This will never do for a dance. Not at all.” He tossed back the unruly lock of hair that had descended across his forehead again. “A string quartet, I think, don’t you?” Without waiting for a reply, he began to hum a low, steady cadence. “There’s the cello.” Then he started humming again in a slightly higher pitch, a tune that seemed to echo the first. “And the viola. Now for the violins.” He hummed a melody that started very slow and sweet but soon swelled to an intricate pattern. “I wish I had another mouth. It’s not easy to hum two parts, you know.”
    Lucia laughed aloud, not caring if the sound should call attention to the strange tête-à-tête .
    “And now, for the dance.” Still humming, the young gentleman began to step in time to the music. “This is about the right tempo, I believe.”
    Lucia sat forward, tapping her heels lightly to the tune as he danced.
    “And now for the partner.” He leaped over in front of her chair and pulled Lucia to her feet. “I believe I’ve requested the honor—”
    She squealed as she jerked away, landing back in her chair with a most unladylike thud.
    The gentleman looked at his hands, which had clasped hers only a second before. He smiled sadly at her. “Ah, well, ma chère , ‘twas not to be, I suppose.”
    Lucia made no answer because there was none to make. He spoke the truth, but it was a regrettable truth and one that did not bear