GEORGE COLMAN THE YOUNGER, Love Laughs at Locksmiths Lord Waverly lingered at the breakfast table long past his usual hour, waiting for Lisette to come down. He did not look for this to be soon, given the amount of champagne she had apparently consumed the night before, but he felt the meeting should not be postponed beyond what was absolutely necessary. It was imperative that Lisette be brought to understand that, one kiss notwithstanding, the nature of their marriage had not changed. He frowned, wondering—not for the first time—what had possessed him to yield to that unfortunate impulse. He had still not arrived at a satisfactory solution to this puzzle when Lisette entered the sunny yellow-and-white breakfast room, squinting her eyes against the sunlight streaming through the windows. “Good morning, Lisette.” Waverly’s greeting was cordial, but not inviting. “You need not shout, milord,” complained Lisette, wincing. In spite of his best intentions, the earl could not entirely suppress a smile.
