Salvation of Ignorance

Chapter 6: Devious Admiration of Her

"What a splendid spectacle. You've truly outdone yourself," Niall negotiated.

"Please, appease my spirits with verifying that you are not engaging in your own private spectacles on the premises."

"I am not." At the present.

Peter sighed in relief and began directing the two of them back to the airless rooms, "I had received a few inquiries regarding your whereabouts. Even one by Miss Barrettmore."

Niall coughed.

Peter halted, and adjusted himself to achieve a better view of Niall. "Please, tell me that was a cough of the influenza."

"I'm delighted to see where my health lies in your list of concerns."

"Niall, I've been spending the last few hours playing host. Do not try my remaining patience."

He was tempted to do just that in order to influence the same annoyance that Niall held for his friend's present persona, but chose to be the better of two bitter men. "It was a laugh. I merely had something in my throat."

Peter nodded, but both saw the clarity in his bronchial passage.

How Niall could have missed the two ladies was beyond him, but he believed the true abnormality lied in Peter's minute-less tracking abilities for Miss Barrettmore. The lady always-of-topic, and her more-favorable friend, were hovering beside the entrance to the ballroom, quite taken with their punch and isolated conversation.

"Miss Barrettmore. I see you've finally secured some punch."

The chit turned to address Peter, punch cup midway to her lips, and being the independent to the quartet's bow. "My apologies. I was not aware you were anticipating my tasting."

Peter shortened his bow and his cheeks had the color of an abused bottom. "No, no. I was referencing to our dilemma during last night's assembly. Neither of us had managed to retrieve some punch."

Peter pointed to Niall, possibly expecting his assistance in the anecdote. Regardless of whether he would provide, after Miss Barrettmore's eyes followed the hand gesture, she coughed a giggle. Niall questioned how Miss Barrettmore found humor where he had failed, but reminded himself that the act was her favorite past time.

The love-struck fool was pleased with the unworthy response. "Yes, well...So, what conversation did I interrupt...If I may ask?"

Miss Wade exchanged glances with her friend. "You always may. We were simply marveling at how well you cater to your guests."

Niall gave the girls a questioning look, but neither seemed interested in returning the attention.

Peter was all a-flutter. "Oh, well, you are too kind. Thank you very much. It is merely my desire to ensure that all my guests are properly cared for. In fact, I was just in the midst of a discussion about the seasoning of our meat. You see, I was worried they may have been over-smoked, but it seems that no one minds the wrinkled texture."

Miss Barrettmore choked on her punch. It was a shame she didn't expire by it.

Peter looked as if he was witnessing the death of a family member and cared. "Are you alright?"

"Quite content. I...simply find it delightful that...certain persons prefer their meat wrinkled," Miss Barrettmore's reply poisoned Miss Wade with a case of the giggles.

The flirt was gossiping.

God was one of possibly many witnesses to the number of ears who had been the audience to 'her' tale. The impropriety and apathy she must hold for the hag's reputation. Not to mention her gormless amusement in how he conducted his affairs. She was a witless mute who could only enunciate sounds for the majority of her conversations and what sentences she could form were riddled with stutters. Yet, not once, did he split a gut over her follies. If anything, she could have demonstrated a level of respect toward her elders--elder...He was not four and thirty.