notion of dancing through the night and would probably end in the card-room, the Viscount gave way. Horatia said, with truth, that she had not the least objection to his playing cards, since no doubt she would find partners enough without him. Had the Viscount realized what particular partner she had in mind he might not have yielded so easily.
As it was, he escorted both his sisters to King Street and performed his duties to his own satisfaction by leading Horatia out for the opening minuet, and going down one of the country dances with Charlotte. After that, seeing his sisters comfortably bestowed in the middle of Horatia’s usual court, he departed in search of liquid refreshment and more congenial entertainment. Not that he expected to derive much enjoyment even in the card- room, for dancing and not gaming being the object of the club stakes would be low, and the company probably unskilled. However, he had caught sight of his friend Geoffrey Kingston when he first arrived, and had no doubt that Mr Kingston would be happy to sit down to a quiet game of piquet.
It was some time before Lord Lethbridge appeared in the ballroom, but he came at last, very handsome in blue satin, and Miss Winwood, who happened to catch sight of him first, instantly recognized the saturnine gentleman who had joined them at Astley’s. When he presently approached Horatia, and Miss Winwoodobserved the friendly, not to say intimate, terms they seemed to be on, misgiving seized her, and she began to fear that Horatia’s frivolity was not confined to the extravagance of her dress, whose great hoop and multitude of ribbons and laces she had already deplored. She contrived to catch Horatia’s eye in a reproving fashion, just as her sister was going off for the second time on Lord Lethbridge’s arm to join the dance.
Horatia chose to ignore this look, but it had not escaped Lethbridge, who said, raising his brows: “Have I offended your sister? I surprised a most unloving light in her eye.”
“W-well,” said Horatia seriously, “it was not very polite in you not to ask her to d-dance this time.”
“But I never dance,” said Lethbridge, leading her into the set.
“S-silly! you are dancing,” Horatia pointed out.
“Ah, with you,” he replied. “That is different.”
They became separated by the movement of the dance, but not before Lethbridge had marked with satisfaction the blush that mounted to Horatia’s cheeks.
She was certainly not displeased. It was quite true that Lethbridge hardly ever danced, and she knew it. She had seen one or two envious glances follow her progress on to the floor and she was far too young not to feel conscious of triumph. Rule might prefer the riper attractions of Caroline Massey, but my Lady Rule would show him and the rest of the Polite World that she could capture a very rare prize on her own account. Quite apart from mere liking, which she undoubtedly felt towards Lethbridge, he was the very man for her present purpose. Such easy conquests as Mr Dashwood, or young Pommeroy, would not answer at all. Lethbridge, with his singed reputation, his faint air of haughtiness, and his supposed heart of marble, was a captive well worth displaying. And if Rule disliked it—why, so much the better!
Lethbridge, perfectly aware of these dark schemes, was playing his cards very skilfully. Far too clever to show an ardency which he guessed would frighten Horatia, he treated her with admiration savoured with the mockery he knew she found tantalizing. His manner was always that of a man many years her senior; he teased her, as in his continued refusal to play cards with her; he would pique her by being unaware of her presence for half an evening, and devoting himself to some other gratified lady.
As they came together again, he said with his bewildering abruptness: “My lady, that patch!”
Her finger stole to the tiny square of black silk at the corner of her eye. “W-why, what, sir?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not the Murderous, I beg of you! It won’t do.”
Her eyes twinkled merrily. As she prepared to go down the dance again, she said over her shoulder: “Which then, p-please?”
“The Roguish!” Lethbridge answered.
When the dance ended, and she would have rejoined Charlotte and Sir Roland, he drew her hand through his arm and led her towards the room where the refreshments were laid.
“Does Pommeroy amuse you? He does not me.”
“N-no, but there is Charlotte, and perhaps—”
“Forgive me,” said Lethbridge crisply, “but neither does Charlotte amuse me—Let me fetch you a glass of ratafia.”
He was back in a moment, and handed her a small glass. He stood beside her chair sipping his own claret and looking straight ahead of him in one of his abstracted fits.
Horatia looked up at him, wondering, as she so often did, why he should all at once have lost interest in her.
“Why the Roguish, my lord?”
He glanced down. “The Roguish?”
“You said I must wear the Roguish p-patch.”
“So I did. I was thinking of something else.”
“Oh!” said Horatia, snubbed.
His sudden smile lit his eyes “I was wondering when you would cease to call me so primly “my lord”,” he said.
“Oh!” said Horatia, reviving. “B-but indeed, sir—”
“But indeed, ma’am!”
“W-well, but what should I c-call you?” she asked doubtfully.
“I have a name, my dear. So too have you—a little name that I am going to use, with your leave.”
“I d-don’t believe you c-care whether you have my l-leave or not!” said Horatia.
“Not very much,” admitted his lordship. “Come, shake hands on the bargain, Horry.”
She hesitated, saw him laughing and dimpled responsively. “Oh, very well, R-Robert!”
Lethbridge bent and kissed the hand she had put into his. “I protest I never knew how charming my poor name could sound until this moment,” he said.
“Pho!” said Horatia. “I am very sure any number of ladies have b-been before me with it.”
“But they none of them called me R-Robert,” explained his lordship.
Meanwhile, the Viscount, emerging briefly from the card-room, was obliged to answer a beckoning signal from Miss Winwood. He strolled across the room to her, and asked casually: “Well, Charlotte, what’s to do?”
Charlotte took his arm and made him walk with her towards one of the widow embrasures. “Pelham, I wish you won’t go back to the card-room. I am uneasy on Horry’s account.”
“Why, what’s the little hussy about now?” inquired the Viscount, unimpressed.
“I do not say that it is anything but the thoughtlessness that we, alas, know so well,” said Charlotte earnestly, “but to dance twice in succession with one gentleman and to go out on his arm gives her an air of singularity which I know dear Mama, or indeed Lord Rule, would deprecate.”
“Rule ain’t so strait-laced. Whom has Horry gone off with?”
“With the gentleman whom we met at Astley’s the other evening, I think,” said Charlotte. “His name is Lord Lethbridge.”
“What?” exclaimed the Viscount. “That fellow here? Odd rot him!”
Miss Winwood clasped both hands on his arm. “Then my fears are not groundless? I should not wish to speak ill of one who is indeed scarcely known to me, yet from the moment I set eyes on his lordship I conceived a mistrust of him which his conduct tonight has done nothing to diminish.”
The Viscount scowled darkly. “You did, eh? Well, it ain’t my business, and I’ve warned Horry, but if Rule don’t put his foot down mighty soon he’s not the man I think him, and so you may tell Horry.”
Miss Winwood blinked. “But is that all you mean to do, Pelham?”
“Well, what can I do?” demanded the Viscount. “Do you suppose I’m going to go and snatch Horry from Lethbridge at the sword’s point?”
“But—”
“I’m not,” said the Viscount definitely. “He’s too good a swordsman.” With which unsatisfactory speech he walked off, leaving Miss Winwood greatly disturbed, and not a little indignant.
The Viscount might seem to his sister to treat the matter with callousness, but he was moved to broach the subject to his brother-in-law in what he considered to be a very delicate manner.
Coming out of the card-room at White’s he nearly walked into Rule, and said with great cheerfulness: “Burn
