Behind him, Alexandra crawled out from behind the settee and began to scurry across the bedchamber carpet on all fours. If Emma didn’t keep his attention focused on her, he would see Alexandra, and this already uncomfortable scene would enter . . . well, not quite the ninth circle of Hell, but Dante’s lesser known invention: the sixth octagon of awkward. She asked breezily, “More badminton this afternoon?” “Fencing.” “Oh, yes. Fencing.” She touched her ear. That would explain the clanging, wouldn’t it.
