“You, Tracy!” She clasped delighted hands on his arm.
“This is very touching,” sneered Robert. “It only needs Andrew to complete the happy reunion. Pray excuse me!”
“With pleasure,” replied the Duke gently, and bowed as if to a stranger.
“He grows tedious,” he remarked, as soon as the Colonel was out of earshot.
“Oh, Bob! I take no account of him! But, Tracy, how is it you have come today? I thought—”
“My dear Lavinia, do I wear an air of mystery? I imagined you knew I was promised to Dolly Cavendish tonight?”
“Yes, but—oh, what matters it? I am so charmed to see you again, dear!”
“You flatter me, Lavinia.”
“And now that you have come, I want to hear why you ever went! Tracy, take me into the room behind us. I know ’tis empty.”
“Very well, child, as you will.” He held back the curtain for her and followed her into the deserted chamber.
“You want to know why I went?” he began, seating himself at her side. “I counsel you, my dear, to cast your mind back to the spring—at Bath.”
“Your affaire! Of course! So the lady proved unkind?”
“No. But I bungled it.”
“You? Tell me at once!—at once!”
His Grace stretched out his leg and surveyed his shoe-buckle through half-closed lids.
“I had arranged everything,” he said, “and all would have been well but for an interfering young jackanapes who chanced along the track and saw fit to espouse Madam Diana’s cause.” He paused. “He tripped me up by some trick, and then—que veux-tu?”
“Who was it?”
“How should I know? At first he seemed familiar. At all events, he knew me. He may be dead by now. I hope he is.”
“Gracious! Did you wound him?”
“I managed to fire at him, but he was too quick, and the bullet took him in the shoulder. It may, however, have been mortal.”
“And so you went to Paris?”
“Ay. To forget her.”
“And have you forgotten?”
“I have not. She is never out of my thoughts. I plan again.”
His sister sighed.
“She is then more beautiful than the Pompadour?” she asked meaningly.
Tracy turned his head.
“The Pompadour?”
“Ay! We heard you contrived to amuse yourself in a pretty fashion, Tracy!”
“Really? I had no idea people were so interested in my affairs. But ‘amuse’ is an apt word.”
“Ah? You were not then épris?”
“I? With that lowborn cocotte? My dear Lavinia!”
She laughed at his haughty tone.
“You’ve not always been so nice, Tracy! But what of your Diana? An you are so infatuated, you had best wed her.”
“Why, so I think.”
Lady Lavinia gasped.
“Tracy! You do not mean it? Goodness me, but a marriage!”
“Why not, Lavinia?”
“Oh, a respectable married man, forsooth! And how long will the passion last?”
“I cannot be expected to foretell that, surely? I hope, forever.”
“And you’ll tie yourself up for the sake of one chit? Lud!”
“I can conceive a worse fate for a man.”
“Can you? Well, tell me more! ’Tis monstrous exciting. Do you intend to court her?”
“At this stage of the proceedings? That were somewhat tactless, my dear. I must abduct her, but I must be more careful. Once I have her, I can propitiate Papa.”
“Tracy, ’tis the maddest scheme ever I heard! What will the others say?”
“Do you really suppose I care?”
“No, I suppose not. Oh, will not Bob be furious, though!”
“It were almost worth while—just for the sake of foiling him. He would so like to succeed me. But I really do not think he must.” His elbow was on his knee, his chin in his hand, and a peculiar smile on his lips. “Can you imagine him stepping into my ducal shoes, Lavinia?”
“Very easily!” she cried. “Oh, yes, yes, Tracy! Marry the girl!”
“If she will.”
“Why, ’tis not like you to underrate your persuasive powers!”
His Grace’s thin nostrils wrinkled up in a curious grimace.
“I believe one cannot force a girl to the altar,” he said.
“Unless she is a fool, she’ll have you.”
“Her parent would be influenced by my dukedom, but she, no. Not even if she knew of it.”
“Does she not know?”
“Certainly not. I am Mr. Everard.”
“How wise of you, Tracy! So you’ve nought to fear?”
“Fear?” He snapped his fingers. “I?”
The heavy curtain swung noiselessly aside. Richard Carstares stood in the opening.
Tracy turned his head and scrutinised him languidly. Then he put up his hand and removed his mask.
“Is it possible the husband scented an intrigue? It seems I am doomed to disappoint tonight.”
Lavinia, smarting from her morning’s wrongs, laughed savagely.
“More probable he mistook me for someone else!” she snapped.
Richard bowed, his hand on the curtain. He had shown no surprise at seeing the Duke.
“Far more probable, my dear. I thought you Lady Charlwood! Pray give me leave.” He was gone on the word.
Tracy replaced his mask, chuckling.
“Honest Dick grows cold, eh? But what a snub, Lavinia!”
Her little hand clenched.
“Oh, how dare he! How dare he insult me so?”
“My dear sister, in all justice to him, you must admit the boot was rather on the other leg.”
“Oh, I know—I know! But he is so provoking!—so jealous!—so unreasonable!”
“Jealous? And why?”
With an impatient twitch at her petticoat she made answer, not looking at him.
“Oh, I do not know! Nor he! Take me back to the ballroom.”
“Certainly, my dear.” He rose and led her out. “I shall do myself the honour of waiting on you—tomorrow.”
“Yes? How delightful ’twill be! Come to dine, Tracy! Richard is promised to the Fortescues.”
“In that case, I have much pleasure in accepting your invitation. … In heaven’s name, who is this?”
Lovelace was bearing down upon them.
“Lavinia! I have been seeking you everywhere!—ah—your servant, sir!” He bowed to his Grace, and took Lavinia’s hand.
“Oh—oh, Harold!—you remember Tracy?” she said nervously.
“Tracy! I did not know you masked! I saw you last in Paris.”
“Really? I regret I was not aware of your presence. It is a good many years since I had the honour of seeing you.”
“Five,” nodded Lovelace, and sent a smiling, amorous glance at Lavinia.
“Exactly,” bowed his Grace. “You have, I perceive, renewed your acquaintance with my sister.”
When they were gone he caressed his chin, thoughtfully.
“Lovelace … and Richard is so jealous, so
