It was his Grace’s first appearance since she had come to Bath, and the fact that he had politely declined an invitation that she had sent to him still rankled in her mind. He bowed over the limp hand that she extended, and looked her up and down.
“I regret to find you thus indisposed, my dear sister,” he said smoothly.
“ ’Tis nought. Only one of my stupid headaches. I am never well here, and this house is stuffy,” she answered fretfully.
“You should take the waters,” he said, scrutinising, through his eyeglass, the chair to which she had waved him. “It has an unstable appearance, my dear; I believe I prefer the couch.” He moved to a smaller sofa and sat down.
“Pray, how long have you been in Bath?” she demanded.
“I arrived last Tuesday week.”
Lady Lavinia started up.
“Last Tuesday week? Then you have been here ten days and not visited me until now!”
He appeared to be examining the whiteness of his hands through the folds of black lace that drooped over them.
“I believe I had other things to do,” he said coolly.
A book of sermons that she had been trying to peruse slid to the ground as Lavinia jerked a cushion into place.
“And you come to me when it suits you? How could you be so unkind as to refuse my invitation?”
There was a rising, querulous note in her voice which gave warning of anger.
“My dear Lavinia, if you exhibit your deplorable temper to me, I shall leave you, so have a care. I thought you would understand that your good husband’s society, improving though it may be, would be altogether too oppressive for my taste. In fact, I was surprised at your letter.”
“You might have come for my sake,” she answered peevishly, sinking back again. “I suppose you have been dancing attendance on the Molesly woman? Lud! but I think you men have gone crazed.”
Understanding came to his Grace, and he smiled provokingly.
“Is that what upsets you? I wondered.”
“No, ’tis not!” she flashed. “And I do not see why you should think so! For my part, I cannot see that she is even tolerable, and the way the men rave about her is disgusting! Disgusting! But ’tis always the same when a woman is unattached and wealthy. Well! Well! Why do you not say something? Do you find her so lovely?”
“To tell the truth, my dear, I have barely set eyes on the lady. I have been otherwise engaged, and I have done with all women, for the time, save one.”
“So I have heard you say before. Do you contemplate marriage? Lud! but I pity the girl.” She gave a jeering little laugh, but it was evident that she was interested.
His Grace was not in the least degree ruffled.
“I do not contemplate marriage, Lavinia, so your sympathies are wasted. I have met a girl—a mere child, for sure—and I will not rest until I have her.”
“Lord! Another farmer’s chit?”
“No, my dear sister, not another farmer’s chit. A lady.”
“God help her! Who is she? Where does she live?”
“She lives in Sussex. Her name I shall not tell you.”
Her ladyship kicked an offending cushion on to the floor, and snapped at him.
“Oh, as you please! I shall not die of curiosity!”
“Ah!” The cynical lips curled annoyingly, and Lady Lavinia was seized with a mad desire to hurl her smelling-bottle at him. But she knew that it was worse than useless to be angry with Tracy, so she yawned ostentatiously, and hoped that she irritated him. If she did, she got no satisfaction from it, for he continued, quite imperturbably:
“She is the daintiest piece ever a man saw, and I’ll swear there’s blood and fire beneath the ice!”
“Is it possible the girl will have none of your Grace?” wondered Lavinia in mock amazement, and had the pleasure of seeing him frown.
The thin brows met over his arched nose, and the eyes glinted a little, while she caught a glimpse of cruel white teeth closing on a sensual underlip. She watched his hand clench on his snuffbox, and exulted silently at having roused him. It was a very brief joy, however, for the next moment the frown had disappeared, the hand unclenched, and he was smiling again.
“At present she is cold,” he admitted, “but I hope that in time she will become more plastic. I think, Lavinia, I have some experience with your charming, if capricious sex.”
“I don’t doubt you have. Where did you meet this perverse beauty?”
“In the Pump Room.”
“Lud! Pray, describe her.”
“I shall be delighted. She is taller than yourself, and dark. Her hair is like a dusky cloud of black, and it ripples off her brow and over her little ears in a most damnably alluring fashion. Her eyes are brown, but there are lights in them that are purest amber, and yet they are dark and velvety—”
My lady had recourse to the smelling-bottle.
“But I perceive I weary you. A man in love, my dear Lavinia—”
She was up again at that.
“In love? You? Nonsense! Nonsense! Nonsense! You do not know what the word means. You are like a—like a fish, with no more of love in you than a fish, and no more heart than a fish, and—”
“Spare me the rest, I beg. I am very clammy, I make no doubt, but you will at least accord me more brain than a fish?”
“Oh, you have brain enough!” she raged. “Brain for evil! I grant you that!”
“It is really very kind of you—”
“The passion you feel now is not love. It is—it is—”
“Your pardon, my dear, but at the present moment I am singularly devoid of all strenuous emotions, so your remark is—”
“Oh, Tracy, Tracy, I am even quarrelling with you!” she cried wretchedly. “Oh, why?—why?”
“You are entirely mistaken, my dear. This is but the interchange of compliments. Pray, do not let me hinder you in the contribution of your share!”
Her lip trembled.
“Go on, Tracy, go on.”
“Very well. I had described her eyes, I think?”
“Very tediously.”
“I will strive to be brief. Her lips
