Calypso Magic (Magic Trilogy 2)

"Men are just men, Miss Savarol. You will get used to it quickly. Just let your partner lead you --- stop shoving at me! --- and accept the fact that men are stronger, larger, and in all likelihood much more intelligent."

Diana came down hard on his foot. He yelped, and she gave him a nasty grin. "I suppose you could say now, with all honesty, that men are also slower, less coordinated, and the biggest babies with just the slightest amount of hurt."

"At least men keep their endowments well under wraps, as it were, and not hanging out and forced upward with the intent to draw attention to themselves. And don't step on my foot again or I will seek immediate retribution."

"I did not think that gentlemen were supposed to speak so outrageously."

"Excellent. You have spoken at some length now and haven't missed a beat. I am a marvelous teacher, am I not?"

"You, my lord, are an unprincipled rat."

"Is there any other kind? No? That certainly shuts me up, doesn't it? Ah, Didier is finished with his music. You will do, Miss Savarol." He released her, gave her a mocking bow, and turned to Lucia. "Well?"

"Well, indeed," said Lucia. "You make a marvelous couple, my dears."

Both members of the couple shot her a killing look, to which she showed no response. Lucia rose and shook out her bright purple silk skirts. "Shall we go?"

"By all means. Doesn't the chit have something to cover her up?"

"Certainly, a shawl matching the gown. Where is it, Diana?"

"I don't know."

Lucia sighed. "Didier, please have Grumber fetch the shawl."

"Very well, my lady."

"You are an excellent musician, Didier," Lyonel said.

"Thank you, my lord. One strives, to be sure." He left the room.

"Your perfume," said Lyonel, "is too strong. You come very close to smelling like an opera girl."

"Oh, and what does an opera girl smell like? What is an opera girl?"

"Lyonel, my boy, would you please keep your tongue behind your teeth?"

Lyon made a great attempt at an indifferent shrug. "Fine with me, Lucia, but have you sniffed her? She is rather overwhelming."

"Come here, Diana."

"She smells as if she's bathed in it."

Diana dutifully allowed herself to be sniffed at. "It is a bit too much," Lucia said at last. "But the evening air, and the time it will take us to reach the Bellermains', will reduce the scent."

"Is there anything else you would care to criticize, my lord?"

His eyes went again to her bosom, and he grinned. "I only remarked upon the obvious problems with your face and your perfume, Miss Savarol. The rest of you that is on display is most pleasing to the eye. The masculine eye, that is."

"Lyonel!"

"Forgive me, Lucia. Ah, your wrap, Miss Savarol. Shall we go, ladies?"

Lucia's grand old brougham was, if nothing else, blessed with a commodious interior. Still, Diana found that Lord Saint Leven must stretch his legs out, and she was forced to move to the side. She was quiet, listening to him speak with Aunt Lucia, calmly, amusingly, and with not a single drawing remark. Why did he dislike her so much? Indeed, he had taken her into obvious aversion the moment he had walked into the drawing room that afternoon. He was rude. Perhaps English noblemen were all of a kind. He was well-looking this evening, she was forced to admit. He wore black evening clothes and his shirt was so white it reminded her of the rice powder. He laughed at something Lucia said and she saw the flash of his even white teeth. He used his hands a lot when he talked. She saw the flash of his emerald signet ring.

"Diana."

"What? I'm sorry, Aunt. I was thinking."