She accepted the handkerchief, holding it over lips until the footman returned with a glass of water. "Yes, thank you Jonathan."
Lady Gwendolyn took the glass and drank, feeling extraordinarily irritated with herself. What was she doing, losing her composure around the likes of Mr. Fisher? She had been to Lady Jersey's routs and she had seen a little more than she had ever wanted to see of the Duke of Devonshire's menage-a-trois with his pretty, witty wife, and his wife's equally pretty best friend and hadn't so much as dropped her fan. Poot. Self-control, that was it.
"I never said there wasn't anything," Lady Gwendolyn said, sipping her water with a convincing show of innocence. "Just nothing that I thought would get him into trouble. Honestly, the Prince of Whales does worse every day. Mr. Hastings certainly allowed the abuse of the natives and everyone he liked to do whatever was profitable, but so did Louis XVI. Besides, what man doesn't take bribes?" She hesitated, glancing down at her cup of water and looked back up. "I will grant you that most men did not insult the natives so consistantly. If you are going to cut the salaries of the native princes the least you can do is make sure their wives are left alone by your soldiers."
The footman brought back the requested plate of trifle and Lady Gwendolyn neatly spooned some up. "I am perfectly contented with it, Mr. Fisher, but I thank you." Hm. She would have to move carefully here. Lady Gwedonlyn examined him from underneath her eyelashes. "Really? That was... extremely kind of you, sir."