April Lady

“Dashed if I would!” remarked the Viscount.

“Giles!”

He laid his hand over the small one insistently tugging at the lapel of his coat. “Hush, my love! This is where we must be guided by the judgment of that arbiter of all matters of taste and ton. Well, Felix?”

Mr. Hethersett, impervious to the quizzical look in his cousin’s eye, took snuff in a meditative way, his brow creased. “Don’t fancy it will make much difference,” he pronounced at last, restoring the box to his pocket, and flicking a few grains of King’s Martinique from his sleeve. “Bound to be a deal of gossip whatever you do. Can’t suppose it won’t leak out, if you go careering off after Letty. Devilish nasty scene, too, if you force her to come home. Seems to have gone into strong hysterics when Allandale tried to get her to do that. Not the sort of thing I should care for.”

“No, my God!” said Cardross, with feeling.

“Better make the best of it,” decided Mr. Hethersett. “Think I’ll be going now. Daresay you’ll like to be left alone.”

Nell held out her hand to him. “I have quite ruined your evening!” she said contritely. “Indeed, I am sorry, and so very much obliged to you!”

“No, no, happy to have been of service!” he replied, bowing with exquisite grace over her hand. “Besides, no such thing! Only on my way to White’s, before taking a look-in at the Seftons’ ball. Night’s young yet!”

“Yes, by Jove, so it is!” said the Viscount. “Here, Corny, wake up!”

Mr. Fancot, urgently shaken, opened his eyes, smiled upon the company, and began to hum softly and unmelodiously to himself.

“Now, for the lord’s sake, Corny, you ain’t as dead-beat as that!” said the Viscount. “Don’t start singing again, because you know dashed well you can’t do it!”

“It’s my birthday,” stated Mr. Fancot.

“Well, that’s got nothing to say to anything! Come along! Time we were going!”

“I can sing on my birthday,” said Mr. Fancot. “I can sing Sing old rose, and burn the bellows, and I can sing your song, and I can—”

“Chip-chow, cherry-chow?” interrupted Mr. Hethersett.

“That’s the one!” nodded Mr. Fancot, pleased. “You know it too?”

“I’ve heard it,” replied Mr. Hethersett, rather grimly. He met the Viscount’s challenging gaze, and held it. “You’ve called me a few names this night, Dysart! Now I’ll take leave to tell you that you’re the biggest cod’s head I ever knew!”

“What the devil do you mean by that?” the Viscount shot at him, flushing.

“You know dashed well what I mean! You learned that song from Cripplegate!”

“What if I did?” demanded Dysart.

“I’ll tell you that, Dysart,” interposed Cardross. He nodded dismissal to his cousin, and looked Dysart over. “Beggar’s Club, eh? Well, I thought as much! A Hussar regiment should suit you: it would be a pity to waste your horsemanship. Well?”

“Oh, to hell with you! I’ve told you I can’t!” Dysart said.

“You’ll find you can, I promise you.”

“By Jove, what wouldn’t I give to be out there!” Dysart said impulsively.

“You going to join, Dy?” enquired Mr. Fancot, who had been following this conversation with great interest. “That’s a devilish good notion! Let’s go and join at once!”

“Well, we can’t,” said Dysart shortly. “Besides, you don’t want to join!”

“Yes, I do,” asserted Mr. Fancot. “Can’t think why I didn’t hit on the notion before! There’s nothing left to do here, except walk backwards to Brighton, and I don’t fancy that above half.”

“Who shall blame you?” agreed Cardross, shepherding him kindly but firmly into the hall.

“That’s just it,” explained Mr. Fancot. “I may have to. Never refused a challenge in my life, and I’ve a notion Willy means to try me with that one. You know Willy?”

“No, but I should lose no time in leaving the country.”

“You’re a sensible man,” said Mr. Fancot warmly. “Very happy to have met you!”

“The pleasure has been all mine,” said Cardross, putting his hat into his hand, and opening the front door.

“Not at all, not at all!” responded Mr. Fancot, ambling down the steps.

“Lord, if ever I saw him in such prime and plummy order before!” said the Viscount. “Now I shall have him going all over town, trying to find the Horse Guards!” He picked up his own hat, and hesitated, looking at Cardross.

Cardross smiled. “You’re a damned fool, Dysart, and a damned nuisance besides—but too good a man to be wasting your talents cutting up cork-brained larks! Don’t tease yourself about your mother! I’ll make all right in that quarter.”

He held out his hand, and the Viscount took it, grinning ruefully. “I wish you might!”

“I will.”

“Devilish good of you. Got something else to say to you, and it ain’t easy. From what Nell told me, when she found herself in that fix—Well, the long and the short of it is she didn’t know till I told her that you were in love with her. Thought you’d married her as a matter of convenience, and had too much civility to let her see it.” He gave a crack of laughter. “Convenience! Lord, what a silly little greenhead!

“Are you serious?” Cardross demanded. “It isn’t possible!”

“Ain’t it? You don’t know my mother, Cardross!” said Dysart. “Good-night! Must go after Corny!”

He went down the steps, waved, and went striding off. Cardross stood looking after him for a moment, and was just about to go back into the house when a post-chaise swept round the angle of the square, and drew up below him. From this vehicle Mr. Allandale jumped down, and turned to give his supporting hand to his betrothed.

“But what a charming surprise!” said Cardross blandly.

Chapter Fifteen

Mr. Allandale, having paid off the postilion, took his love in one hand and Mr. Thorne’s cloak-bag in the other, and trod up the steps to the front-door. Here he paused and looked Cardross squarely in the face. “I have brought her home, sir,” he said.

“I see you have,” replied Cardross. “Most understandable, I am sure!”

Letty cast a scared, resentful look up at him, but said nothing.

“An explanation is due to you,” said Mr. Allandale. “But first I must beg of you most earnestly that whatever wrath you may feel—and I do not deny that it is a just wrath!—you will visit upon my head alone!”

“I fail entirely to see why I should visit my wrath on your head, but if you suppose me to be contemplating a violent revenge on Letty do let me hasten to reassure you!”

“You see, love?” said Mr. Allandale tenderly.

“I’m n-not afraid of Cardross!” said Letty, in a small resentful voice.

“It would have been very much better for you, and all of us, if you had been,” said Cardross. “Come into the house, but leave your heroism outside!” He led the way into the hall and saw Farley standing in the middle of it with his mouth at half-cock. “Just so!” he remarked.

“I heard a carriage drive up, my lord!” explained the butler, staring at Letty.

“Yes, Lady Letty decided after all she would not spend the night in Bryanston Square,” said Cardross ironically. “You may come into the book-room, both of you.” He walked to the door and held it wide. Across the room Nell’s eyes met his, a startled question in them. “Giles, I thought I heard—”

“You did, my love. Can you conceive of anything more delightful? Dear little Letty is once more in our midst!”

“I hate you!” said Letty passionately, and burst into tears.

“Letty! Oh, Letty, thank God you’ve come back!” cried Nell, hurrying forward.