““The white muslin, I think,” she said and wondered what to do with her hair. Thirty minutes later, when she descended the stairs to find Royce waiting for her, she was satisfied her efforts had been worthwhile. Her brother simply stared. They were in the carriage, on the way to the Pavilion, before he said, “Poor Darcourt.” “What?” “Darcourt, never stood a chance, flushed like a fox from cover.” “Alex flushed? ” “He’d know what I mean.” “Well, I most certainly do not. Alex is as far from a flushed fox as it is possible for a man to be.” “No doubt he thought he was. Knows differently now.” Royce was grinning, looking rather pleased with himself, when his loving sister said, “You know, brother, a wise man might pause to think about the implications of what you’re suggesting. If an Alex Darcourt can be brought to ground, surely no man may consider himself safe.” She was rewarded with a look of surprise shading into wariness just as the carriage rolled to a stop before the Pavilion.””
