April Lady

the set was far removed from Dysart’s; and by the time she left the floor he had restored Letty to Mr. Hethersett’s protection, and had returned to his own party.

He left it, on the flimsiest of excuses, ten minutes later: a circumstance of which she was soon made fully aware by his hostess, who sailed across the room for the express purpose of favouring her with her opinion of his manners and upbringing. Mr. Hethersett could do nothing to spare her this ordeal, but when one of his and Cardross’s more formidable aunts conceived it to be her duty to censure Nell for her thoughtlessness in permitting Letty to dance with Mr. Allandale he came out strongly in her support, even recommending Lady Chudleigh to address her criticisms to Cardross himself.

“Let me assure you, Felix,” said the lady in quelling accents, “that nothing is further from my intentions! Far be it from me to seek to make mischief!”

“Just as well,” responded the intrepid Mr. Hethersett. “Very likely to give you one of his set-downs!”

Nell was quite overcome by such a display of heroism on her behalf, but Mr. Hethersett disclaimed heroism. Having watched through a quizzing-glass which hideously magnified his eye the retreat of the dowager, he assured Nell that he had spoken nothing more than the truth. “No need to fear Cardross would listen to her tales,” he said. “What’s more, he must know you couldn’t stop Letty dancing with anyone. Doubt whether he could do it himself.”

It seemed as though the Earl shared this doubt. He had not returned from a dinner given by the Sublime Society of Beefsteaks when the ladies were set down in Grosvenor Square sometime after midnight, but he visited his bride later in the morning. He found her with a breakfast-tray across her knees, the curtains of her bed drawn back in billowing folds of rosy silk. She was engaged, between sips of coffee and nibbles at a slice of bread-and butter, in reading her correspondence. This seemed, from the litter on the counterpane, to consist largely of gilt- edged invitations, but there was a letter, crossed and recrossed, from her mama, which she was trying to decipher when Cardross came into the room. She put it down at once, and tried to tuck back the ringlets which had strayed from under her becoming night-cap of muslin and lace. “My lord! Oh, dear, I did not think you would be coming to see me so early, and I am dreadfully untidy!”

“Don’t!” he said, capturing her hand, and kissing it. “You look charmingly, I assure you. Was it amusing, your party?”

“Yes, thank you. That is—it was just one of the Assemblies, at Almack’s, you know.”

“Not very amusing, then,” he remarked, seating himself on the edge of her bed, and picking up one of the invitation cards. “Nor will this be, but we shall be obliged to accept it, I suppose. She is Letty’s godmother. Did Letty behave with propriety last night, or did she hang on that fellow Allandale the whole evening?”

“No, indeed she did not! She stood up only twice with him.”

“I am astonished to learn that she had as much moderation—and I make you my compliments: it must surely be your doing!”

“Well, of course, I should try to dissuade her from doing what you don’t like,” said Nell doubtfully, “but it wasn’t at all necessary. Mr. Allandale’s scruples are so very strict that I am persuaded he would never ask her to do anything that might set up people’s backs.”

“Good God!” said his lordship. “What a slow-top! My dear, what does she see in him to hit her fancy?”

“I can’t think!” said Nell candidly. “Though I am sure he has many excellent qualities, and a most superior understanding.”

“Superior fiddlesticks! I never found him to be anything but a dreadful bore. I wish to God she would recover from this green-sickness! It’s quite impossible, you know: he has neither fortune nor expectation, and I’ll swear I never saw a couple less suited to one another. I should be a villain to countenance such an attachment. If his scruples are as strict as you tell me I collect I’ve no need to fear he may run off with her to Gretna Green?”

“Good gracious, no!” Nell exclaimed, startled.

“So much, then, for my aunt Chudleigh’s croakings!”

“Your aunt Chudleigh! Oh Giles, she was at Almack’s last night, and she gave me a terrible scold for permitting Letty to dance with Mr. Allandale!”

“What impertinence!”

“Oh, no! Though that is what Felix said. And also he told her to make her complaints to you, which was not very civil of him, but excessively brave, I thought!”

“I wonder what she imagines I can do to stop Letty? Short of incarcerating her at Merion—By the by, I must go to Merion next week. Useless, I suppose, to ask you to go with me?”

She showed him a face of sudden dismay. “Next week! But the Beadings’ masquerade—!”

He raised his brows. “Is it so important? For my part, masquerades at Chiswick—”

“No, indeed, but you did promise Letty she should attend it! It is the first she has ever been to, and she has had the prettiest domino made, and—and I must own I think it would be dreadfully shabby to tell her now that she cannot go!”

“Hang Letty! Can’t she—No, I suppose not. Very well: I won’t tease you to go with me.”

“I wish I might,” she said wistfully.

He smiled at her, but rather quizzically, and picked up another of the invitation cards. “A quadrille ball at the Cowpers’! How dashing! It will be a horrible squeeze: must we go?”

The post had brought her ladyship a polite reminder from Mr. Warren, Perfumier, that a trifling account for scent, white nail-wax and Olympian Dew, was outstanding. It had lain hidden by Lady Cowper’s invitation, and was revealed when the Earl picked this up. Only a few guineas were involved, but Nell instinctively put out her hand to cover it. The movement caught his eye; he glanced down, and she at once removed her hand, flushing, vexed with herself.

“What other delights are in store for us?” he asked, picking up another card. “Assemblies and balls seem to be in full feather: you will be knocked up by all this raking! Don’t drag me to this affair, I beg of you!”

“That? Oh, no! It is to be a petticoat-party. You—you will be present at our own dress-party, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

There was a short silence. After that one glance the Earl had not again looked at Mr. Warren’s account, but it seemed to his guilty wife imperative to divert his attention from it. She said a trifle breathlessly: “Cardross, what a very elegant dressing-gown that is! I think I never saw you wear it before.”

“Ah, I hoped you would be pleased with it!” he replied blandly. “And with me for letting you see it.”

“How absurd you are! It is certainly most handsome.”

“Yes, and wickedly dear—as dear as your feathered bonnet, though not, I fear, as becoming. You see how I lay myself open to strong counter-attack!”

“Oh, Giles!”

He laughed, and tickled her cheek. “Foolish little Nell! Is it very shocking?”

She heaved a sigh of relief, smiling shyly at him. “No, indeed it isn’t! Only it—it does chance to be a bill I had forgotten, and I was afraid you would be angry with me.”

“What a disagreeable husband I must be!” he murmured ruefully. “Shall I pay that bill with the rest?”

“No, please! It is a very small one—look!”

She held it out to him, but he did not look at it, only taking her hand in his, the bill crushed between his fingers, and saying: “You mustn’t be afraid of me. I never meant to make you so! I’ll pay this bill, or any other—only don’t conceal any from me!”

“Afraid of you? Oh, no, no!” she exclaimed.

His clasp on her hand tightened; he leaned forward, as though he would have kissed her; but her dresser came into the room just then, and although she quickly withdrew, the moment had passed. Nell had snatched her hand away, vividly blushing, and the Earl did not try to recapture it. He got up, his own complexion rather heightened, feeling all the embarrassment natural to a man discovered, at ten o’clock in the morning, making love to his own wife, and went away to his dressing-room.