Gregory fought the urge to glare at his sister, who never seemed to miss an opportunity to poke, prod, or twist. Precisely, he replied.
If she'd been drinking something, Colin thought without a trace of humor, it would have come out her nose. "What the hell is the matter with you?" he snapped.That finally got her attention. He didn't know whether it was his tone of voice or maybe his use of profanity, but she sobered in an instant.wMy word," she said softly, "you're serious."wDo I look like I'm joking?"wNo," Eloise said. "Although you did at first. I'm sorry, Colin, but it's just not like you to be glowering and yelling and all that. You looked rather like Anthony."wYou—"wActually," she said, giving him a look that was not nearly as wary as it should have been, "you looked more like yourself, trying to imitate Anthony."
He was going to kill her. Right here in her room, in his mother's house, he was going to commit sororicide.wColin?" she asked hesitantly, as if she'd just finally noticed that he had long since passed angry on his way to furious.wSit. Down." He jerked his head toward a chair. "Now."wAre you all right?"wSIT DOWN!"he roared.And she did. With alacrity.wI can't remember the last time you raised your voice," she whispered.wI can't remember the last time I had cause to."wWhat's wrong?"He decided he might as well just come out and say it.wColin?"wI know you're Lady Whistledown."wWhaaaaat?"wThere's no use denying it. I've seen—"
Eloise jumped to her feet. "Except that it's not true!"Suddenly he no longer felt quite so angry. Instead he felt tired, old. "Eloise, I've seen the proof."wWhat proof?" she asked, her voice rising with disbelief. "How can there be proof of something that isn't true?"
He grabbed one of her hands. "Look at your fingers."
She did so. "What about them?"wInkstains."How fares Priscilla Butterworth?
Hyacinth lifted her brows, surprised that he knew which book they were reading. She is running for the cliffs, she replied. I fear for her safety, if you must know. Or rather, I would, she added, if there were not eleven chapters still to be read.Pity, he remarked. The book would take a far more interesting turn if she was killed off.
Have you read it, then? Hyacinth queried politely.For a moment it seemed he would do nothing but give her a Surely You Jest look, but he punctuated the expression with, My grandmother likes to recount the tale when I see her each Wednesday. Which I always do, he added, sending a heavy-lidded glance in Lady Danbury’s direction. And most Fridays and Sundays as well.