Page 28 of The Tartan Trap

Margaret laughed. “I certainly would not be opposed to learning anything you had to tell me on this subject.”

“The next time you visit, you, Reginald, and I will play poker. Though I warn you that Reginald is dastardly good at bluffing. I never know when he’s lying.”

Margaret didn’t doubt it. As a stuffed bird, Reginald made very few expressions.

“That sounds splendid,” she said.

There were many who would call Rachel batty for speaking as if Reginald were a live pet, but Rachel was far too intelligent to believe the stories that she spun about her bird. But wasn’t the purpose of a story to suspend disbelief in order to be entertained and charmed? With Reginald, Margaret felt as if Rachel had created a story and invited other people into it.

“So who would you bet on instead, then, if wagering on Lily’s and Dahlia’s matrimony is a foregone conclusion?” Margaret asked.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “It would be a fool who placed his wager on me to be married, as I am quite determined not to enter the state.”

“Are you against it, in general?” Margaret asked.

“Of course not.” Rachel frowned. “It’s only that I cannot picture myself as a married woman, and I assure you it’s not due to a lack of imagination.”

Margaret knew this to be true. Only last week, Rachel had appeared on their threshold with a large basket of costumes and pressed her and Beatrice into an impromptu reenactment of scenes from Homer’s The Odyssey.

Margaret was so preoccupied with Rachel’s question over which of her sisters would be married this Season that she was surprised when Miss Daisy Knope sidled up to them, fluttering her fan. Though Margaret hated to admit it, Daisy’s dress was lovely. It was a pale pink confection threaded with navy ribbons that brought out the color of her eyes.

“Oh, Margaret,” Daisy said with a sickly sweet smile. “Look at that dress. It makes you look positively fetching.”

Perhaps to any outsider, it would have sounded like a compliment. However, Margaret knew that this was just a continuation of a long-running joke in which Daisy Knope insinuated that Margaret was some sort of overfed hound.

She stiffened; Rachel studied her from the corner of her eye.

“Look,” Daisy crooned when no response was forthcoming, “Your clever dressmaker was even able to find a waist under there.”

“Are you fond of rats?” Rachel snapped, tilting her elegant chin.

Daisy looked taken aback. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“Not officially,” Rachel said bluntly, “but that’s not what I asked you.”

Daisy curled her upper lip. “How untoward to be talking about such things in a ballroom.”

Rachel frowned. “Are you stupid or simply hard of hearing?” She glanced over Daisy’s shoulder. “For I do believe that the Dowager Countess Pembroke has an ear trumpet. Perhaps she’ll lend it to you.”

“Of course I’m not fond of rats,” Daisy said, disdain dripping from every syllable. Her eyes slid back to Margaret. “What interesting company you keep, Margaret. I shouldn’t be surprised. Your family has barely clawed its way back into society, after all. We cannot expect you to associate with anyone worth knowing.”

“I believe you know my brother-in-law, the Marquess Salisbury,” Rachel said bluntly. “He told me all about your hunting party this summer. As did Lord Cavendish, Margaret’s brother. You do remember he was there as well, don’t you?”

Daisy’s eyes widened. Margaret might have felt bad for her if she hadn’t provoked Rachel by insulting Margaret to her face. It seemed that Daisy had learned no humility in the process of becoming a public spectacle.

“Which brings me back to rats,” Rachel said. “Did you know that rats will only eat their own in the face of extreme food shortages?”

“What on earth could be your point?”

“Only that, when compared to rats, you still come out lacking.” Rachel smiled. “Also, I believe I’d much prefer the company of rats to you.”

Daisy smirked. “It’s no concern of mine whether you enjoy my company, though if it’s any consolation, I doubt you’ll have to experience it for long.”

“From your lips to heaven’s ears,” Margaret muttered.

Daisy simpered, “After all, the duke is ever so charming. I dare say I’ll enjoy Scotland very much.”

“Has Beaufort gone all that distance to avoid you?” Rachel asked. “For we know how your trips often take you in his proximity.”