Lavinia cast off her capuchin and plumed her feathers, giving a surreptitious shake to her ruched skirts and smoothing her ruffles. She rustled forward with great stateliness, fan unfurled, head held high, her gloved fingers resting lightly on Lovelace’s velvet-clad arm. Richard, hearing the little stir caused by her entry, glanced up, and perceived her. He did not recognise her companion, but the sparkle in her eyes and the happy curve to her full lips were quite enough to tell him that it was someone whom she was very contented to have met. He had ample opportunity for studying Lovelace as the good-looking pair drew near, and he could not but admire the delicate, handsome face with the grey eyes that held a laugh in them, the pleasure-loving, well-curved mouth, and the chin that spoke of determination. Here was not one of Lavinia’s lisping, painted puppy-dogs, for in spite of the effeminate curls, it was easy to see that this man had character and a will of his own, and, above all, a great charm of manner. He saw Lavinia blush and rap the Captain’s knuckles in answer to some remark, and his heart sank. He rose and came to meet them.
Lady Lavinia smiled sweetly upon him, and patted his arm with a possessive little air.
“Dicky dear, I have found an old friend—a very old friend! Is it not agreeable? Captain Lovelace—Mr. Carstares.”
The two men bowed, Richard with reluctancy, the Captain with easy bonhomie.
“Sir, I claim to be a worshipper at the shrine of which you, I believe, are High Priest!” he said impudently, and bowed again, this time to my lady.
“You are one of many, sir,” smiled Richard.
Lady Devereux came tripping up to them, and kissed Lavinia with a great show of affection.
“My dearest life! My sweet Lavinia!”
Lady Lavinia presented a powdered cheek.
“Dearest Fanny, how charming to see you again!” she cooed. Through her lashes she gazed at her friend’s enormous headdress, with its rolls of powdered curls and the imitation flowers perched upon the top of the erection.
“But, my angel!” exclaimed Lady Fanny, stepping back to view her, “surely you have been ill?”
“How strange!” smiled Lavinia. “I was about to ask you that same question, my dear! ’Tis age, I doubt not. Do we both look such dreadful hags?” She turned her bewitching little countenance to the men, and smiled appealingly.
Compliments showered upon her, and Lady Devereux, who was conscious that her own sallow countenance, in spite of rouge and powder, must appear even more sallow beside Lavinia’s pink-and-whiteness, flushed in annoyance and turned away, begging her dearest Lavvy to come to the faro with her. But Lavinia, it appeared, was going to watch the dicing at Richard’s table: she vowed she should bring him monstrous good luck.
“I don’t doubt it, my dear,” replied her husband, “but I am not playing tonight. Will you not take your luck to Bob?” He nodded to where the Colonel was lounging, dice-box in hand.
Lavinia pouted.
“No, I want you to play!”
“ ’Tis of no avail, Lady Lavinia!” drawled Sir Gregory. “Richard is the very devil tonight.”
Selwyn, rattling his dice, paused, and looked round at Markham with a face of innocent surprise. Then he turned slowly and stared at Carstares’ grave, almost stern countenance, with even more surprise. He started to rattle the dice again, and shifted back to face his opponent, with pursed lips.
“Is he?” he inquired with studied depression.
Even Lavinia joined in the general laugh, not so much at the wit’s words as at his comic expression, and the extreme deliberation with which he had enacted the little scene.
Someone cried a bet to Lovelace, which was promptly accepted, and Lavinia’s eyes glowed afresh as she followed the Captain to a table.
Richard went to fetch her some refreshment, and on his return, found her leaning over Lovelace’s chair, her hand on his shoulder, eagerly casting the dice on to the table. He was in time to see her clap her hands and to hear her cry of: “My luck! Oh, my luck is in! I will throw again!”
Glancing round she caught sight of her husband, and her face fell.
“Do you mind, Dicky?” she pleaded.
He did mind, but he could not appear churlish before all these men; so he laughed and shook his head, and went to her elbow to watch her play.
When she at length ceased, her luck had run out, and she had lost her much-prized ruby earring to Mr. Selwyn, who placed it carefully in his vest pocket, vowing he should wear it next his heart forever. Then, and then only, did she consent to leave the gaming tables for the dancing hall, and for another hour Richard had the felicity of watching her tread the minuet with various young bloods, but most often with her newfound Harry Lovelace.
XIX
The Reappearance of His Grace of Andover
It seemed to Richard in the days that followed, that Captain Lovelace was never out of his house. If he went to his wife’s boudoir, there was Lovelace, hanging over her while she played upon the spinet or glanced through the pages of the Rambler. If Lavinia went to a ball or masquerade, the Captain was always amongst the favoured ones admitted to her chamber for the express purpose of watching her don her gown and judiciously place her patches. If Carstares begged his wife’s company one morning, she was full of regrets: Harry was calling to take her to Vauxhall or to Spring Gardens. When he entered his door, the first sight that met his eyes was the Captain’s amber-clouded cane and point-edged hat; and when he looked out of the window, it was more often
