The Dragon and The Sphinx

The room fell silent save for the rhythmic tapping of Lady Huxtable’s boot toe on the wood floor. Her thin, nearly lipless mouth approximated a smile, but her dancing black eyes belied a vastly disparate emotion. Her slim figure barely disclosed any breath beneath her fashionalbe waistcoat, though the stray lock of hair from her tightly pulled bun betrayed a hurried trip up the stairs.

“Sir, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” she let slip between pursed lips.

Rising, the sphinx come to life, Lord Windham bowed deeply, “Lord Geoffrey Windham.”

She regarded him sternly, then in an off-handed tone, “Hmm, there you are, and I still haven’t had what I’d refer to as the pleasure.”

Not missing a beat, Lord Windham said candidly, “I’m so glad you could join us. I was just saying how indecent it was for Miss Delacourt to be entertaining me without you present. Would it be to forward of me to suggest tea?”

“Among other things,” Lady Huxtable quipped, eyes locked on the charming lord.

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