'How else am I to make myself heard?' Affectionately tweaking one of her curls, he demanded, 'Well? Who is it tonight?' 'I do wish you wouldn’t shout so, Bonaparte.' Mme Bonaparte lifted one white hand and touched him gently on the cheek.īonaparte grabbed her hand and planted a resounding kiss on the palm. Once still, the red velvet resolved into a man of slightly less than medium height, clad in a long red velvet coat with breeches that must once have been white, but which now bore assorted stains that proclaimed as clearly as a menu what the wearer had eaten for supper. The red velvet came to an abrupt stop beside Mme Bonaparte’s chair. Amy sidestepped just in time, swaying on her slippers to avoid toppling into Lord Richard. Out of an adjoining room charged a blur of red velvet, closely followed by the scurrying form of a young man. The dreadful noise repeated itself, cutting off any further remarks. Snatching her hand away as though his coat were made of live coals, Amy snapped, 'You would know.'
'Steady there.' Richard patted the delicate hand clutching the material of his coat. About the room, people went on chatting as before. Unconsciously, Amy grabbed Richard’s arm, looking about anxiously for the source of the roar. A stentorian bellow shook the candles in their sconces.
