They had not been in the Gardens ten minutes before a little crowd of men had gathered around them, professing themselves enraptured to behold the fair Lady Lavinia once more. One of them fetched her a chair, another a glass of negus, and the rest hovered eagerly about her.
Becomingly flushed with triumph, my lady gave her little hand to Mr. Selwyn, who had been once a very ardent admirer, laughed at his neat compliment, and declared that he was a dreadful flattering demon, and positively she would not listen to him!
Sir Gregory Markham, who brought her the negus, she discovered to have just returned from Paris. On hearing this, she broke off in the middle of a conversation with an enchanted French Chevalier and turned to him, raising her china-blue eyes to his face and clasping tight-gloved hands.
“Oh, Sir Gregory! Paris? Then tell me—please, tell me—have you seen my darling Devil?”
“Why, yes, madam,” responded Markham, handing her the glass he held.
She sipped the negus, and gave it to the Chevalier to take care of.
“I declare, I quite love you then!” she exclaimed. “What is he doing, and, oh! when will he return to England?”
Sir Gregory smiled.
“How can I say?” he drawled. “I fear monsieur s’amuse!”
She flirted her fan before her face.
“Dreadful creature!” she cried. “How dare you say such things?”
“Belmanoir?” inquired Lord D’Egmont, twirling his cane.
“Enamoured of the Pompadour, is he not—saving your presence, Lady Lavvy!”
Lavinia let fall her fan.
“The Pompadour! He had best have a care!”
“I believe there has already been some unpleasantness between his Majesty and the fair Jeanne on the subject of Devil. Since then she is supposed to have turned on him a cold shoulder.”
“I heard ’twas he wearied of madame,” said Markham.
“Well, whichever it was, I am glad the episode is closed,” decided Lavinia. “ ’Tis too dangerous a game to play with Louis’ mistresses. Oh, mon cher Chevalier! if I had not forgot your presence! But I am sure you say dreadful ill-natured things of our George, now don’t you? Oh, and have you held my negus all this time? How monstrous good of you! There, I will drink it, and Julian shall take the glass away. … Voila!” She handed it to D’Egmont and rapped Mr. Selwyn’s knuckles with her fan, looking archly up at him as he stood behind her chair.
“Naughty man! Will you have done whispering in my ear? I vow I will not listen to your impudences! No, nor laugh at them neither! Sir Gregory, you have given me no answer. When will Tracy return? For the Cavendish rout on Wednesday week? Ah, say yes!”
“Certainly I will say yes, fair tormentor! But, to tell the truth, Tracy said no word of coming to London when I saw him.”
She pouted.
“Now I hate you, Sir Gregory! And he has been absent since May! Oh, Julian, back already? You shall escort me to the fireworks then. Oh, my fan! Where is it? I know I dropped it on the ground—Selwyn, if you have taken it—Oh, Dicky, you have it! Thank you! See, I am going with Julian, and you may ogle Mrs. Clive, whom I see walking over there—yes, positively you may, and I shall not be jealous! Very well, Julian, I am coming! Chevalier, I shall hope to see you at the rout on Wednesday week, but you must wait upon me before then.”
The Frenchman brightened.
“Madame is too good. I may then call at Wyncham ’Ouse? Vraiment, I shall but exist until then!” In a perfectly audible whisper, he confided to Wilding that “miladi etait ravissante! mais ravissante!”
Lady Lavinia went off on her gratified cavalier’s arm, encountering many bows and much admiration as she passed down the walk, leaving her husband not to ogle the beautiful Kitty, as she had advised, but to saunter away in the direction of the Pavilion in company with Tom Wilding and Markham.
D’Egmont guided my lady into one of the winding alleys, and they presently came out on a large lawn, dotted over with people of all conditions. Towards them was coming Lavinia’s brother—Colonel Lord Robert Belmanoir—very richly clad and rakish in appearance. When he saw his sister, a look of surprise came into his florid face, and he made her a sweeping leg.
“ ’Pon my honour—Lavinia!”
My lady was not fond of her brother, and acknowledged the salutation with a brief nod.
“I am delighted to see you, Robert,” she said primly.
“The mere word ‘delighted’ in no way expresses my sensations,” replied the Colonel in the drawling, rather unpleasant voice peculiar both to him and to the Duke. “Your servant, D’Egmont. I imagined, Lavvy, that you were in the country?”
“Richard brought me to town last Tuesday,” she answered.
“How unwise of him!” taunted the Colonel. “Or had he no choice?”
She tossed her head angrily.
“If you are minded to be disagreeable, Robert, pray do not let me detain you!” she flashed.
D’Egmont was quite unembarrassed by this interchange of civilities. He knew the Belmanoir family too well to be made uncomfortable by their bickerings.
“Shall we leave him?” he asked Lavinia, smiling.
“Yes,” she pouted. “He is determined to be unpleasant.”
“My dear sister! On the contrary, I believe I
