“No! I mean, not ordinarily.” Oh, good heavens, it was a good thing Sir Felix was not a gossip, because if this got back to her mother . . . “What I meant to say is that she is not a shrew. Ever. But I need to find her. She specifically told me she wanted to leave before . . . ehrm . . . well . . . now.”

“It is near to eleven,” Sir Felix supplied helpfully.

She gave an emphatic nod. “Precisely.”

Sarah said her farewells, leaving Sir Felix with Cousin Arthur, who, if he wasn’t interested in shrews, at least put on a good show of it. Then she set off in search of her mother to let her know that she wished to depart earlier than planned. They didn’t live far from the Dunwoodys; if Lady Pleinsworth was not ready to leave, it should not prove difficult for the Pleinsworth carriage to transport Sarah home and then return for her mother.

Five minutes of searching did not reveal Lady Pleinsworth’s whereabouts, however, and soon enough Sarah was muttering to herself as she tromped down the corridor to where she thought the Dunwoodys had a gaming room.

“If Mama is playing cards . . .” Not that Lady Pleinsworth couldn’t afford to lose a guinea or two in whatever it was that matrons played these days, but still, it seemed rather unfair that she’d be gambling away while Sarah was saving the family from utter embarrassment.

Caused by her cousin, while he’d been gambling.

“Ah, irony,” she murmured. “Thy name is . . .”

Thy name was . . .

Thy name could be . . .

She actually stopped walking as she frowned. Apparently irony’s name was some word she couldn’t think of.

“I am pathetic,” she muttered, resuming her search. And she wanted to go home. Where the devil was her mother?

Soft light shone from a partially open doorway just a few feet ahead. It was rather quiet for a card game, but on the other hand, the open doorway would seem to indicate that whatever Sarah walked in on, it would not be too inappropriate.

“Mama,” she said, walking into the room. But it wasn’t her mother.

Irony’s new name was apparently Hugh Prentice.

She froze in the doorway, unable to do anything but stare at the man sitting by the window. Later, when she was reliving every awful moment of the encounter, it would occur to her that she could have left. He wasn’t facing her, and he didn’t see her; he wouldn’t see her unless she spoke again.

Which of course she did.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” she said coldly.

Lord Hugh stood at the sound of her voice. His movements were stiff, and he leaned heavily on the arm of the chair as he rose. “I beg your pardon?” he said politely, regarding her with an expression that was completely devoid of emotion.

He did not even have the decency to appear uncomfortable in her presence? Sarah felt her hands turn to rocky little fists. “Have you no shame?”