Page 81 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

"You pushed Lord Potts into a fountain?" Morrison asked, forgetting himself enough to show surprise.

"He made inappropriate comments about her ladyship. The fountain seemed the most immediate solution."

"Very good, sir."

"Morrison!" Lucien said. "You can't approve of fountain violence."

"I wouldn't dream of approving, my lord. I am merely observing that the Desclaire fountains are particularly well-placed for such... solutions."

"You're all insane," Lucien declared, but he was fighting a smile.

"Speaking of insane," Julian said, helping himself to breakfast, "Cassandra has fled to Bath."

"Bath?" Arabella repeated.

"Apparently, the embarrassment was too much. She left at dawn, according to my sources."

"You have sources?"

"I have sources everywhere. It's amazing what you can hear people discussing at a ball when they think nobody can hear them."

"That's disturbing."

"That's intelligence gathering. And speaking of intelligence, what are you going to do about all these invitations?"

Lucien looked at the pile with the expression of a man facing his doom. "Burn them?"

"You can't burn them," Arabella protested. "These people are trying to be kind."

"These people are trying to get close enough to observe us like exotic animals."

"Some of them, maybe. But not all." She picked up Lady Potts’ note. "This seems genuine."

"She wants to know about the lake incident."

"Everyone wants to know about the lake incident. We might as well control the narrative."

"The narrative is that you fell in love," Julian said through a mouthful of eggs. "Rather publicly and dramatically. Society adores a love story, especially one involving water rescue and criminal dogs."

"Thistle is not..." Arabella began, then stopped as the dog himself trotted in carrying what appeared to be Morrison's other glove.

"Oh, Heavens," Morrison said with resignation.

Thistle wagged his tail and dropped the glove at Morrison's feet like an offering.

"He's trying to return it," Arabella said. "That's progress!"

"That's theft with attempted restitution," Lucien corrected.

"It's still progress."

They were interrupted by Mrs. Fielding, who entered with an expression of barely suppressed excitement.

"My lady, the modiste has sent something."

"Madame Phillipe? But she already delivered the ball gown yesterday and there is nothing more I am expecting."

"This is something else." Mrs. Fielding gestured, and two footmen entered carrying an enormous box.