shocked , not so much by the news as the manner it had been delivered , she had sat for some seconds , dithering between several options : ... door number one , she could continue playing the polite hostess and offer dessert and wine to her stunned ( him poor thing ) and smirking ( her , the brazilian bombshell darcy realised later that she must have been forewarned by patrick as to what was coming ) dinner guests ; door number two , indulge in an absolutely justifiable hissy fit and upend the mousse shed placed just moments before in the middle of the table over patricks balding , half-drunk , irish-trash cheating head ; or alternatively , door number three , flee the room in utter embarrassment .