rules of engagement

"But Lady Flora," Haze said softly, in that ginger dew-brushed voice that Lora had previously - or at least, once - thought reserved solely for her, "isn't that...terrible?"

Terrible? What should be so terrible about glibly divided attentions and the presence of more than enough personal space to go around?

Flora had never possessed simultaneously the maturity and the staunch stake of opinion that would lead her to calmly consider, explain and excuse the opposing viewpoint. She wasn't sure how delicately to grasp the both, just now.

Were there those who found it so vile and desolate, to be surrounded by two people who, apart from you, sought solace in each other?

"Maybe it's not for everyone," she allowed. "But I'm not everyone."

Oh, that was tart. She hated to be tart.

"Did you think they hadn't asked me?"

(In truth, they hadn't - even still, she couldn't imagine herself doing anything but happily playing along with their mutual scheme.)

"It's not about asking," Lora put in, face and tone both hot. "It's...well, it makes a joke out of you!"

"Are you laughing?"

Now Flora's eyes danced: oh, how untidy of her dear husbands to turn even free-willing Lora into the picture of society shown scandal.

Lora turned to Haze to consider this. No, of course not, they'd never dream. And so, who must be? Surely not Addam and Minoth.

No...

Flora sighed. "If it makes you feel better, they do it because I tell them to."

Really - and that alone?