The Convenient Marriage

“Now there you’re wrong,” he replied with great affability. “It would not be in the least like me. That domino was wrested from me.”

Her lips curled. “You permitted it? You let him take your place with the girl? That is not very probable!”

“I had no choice in the matter,” he said. “I was eliminated in the neatest possible way. Yes, I said “eliminated”, Caroline.”

“You take it very calmly!” she remarked.

“Naturally,” he replied. “Did you suppose I should gnash my teeth?”

She plucked at the folds of her gown. “Well, are you satisfied? Do you mean to be done with the bride? Is it all over?”

“As far as you are concerned, my dear, I should imagine that it is certainly all over,” he said reflectively. “Not, of course, that I was privileged to witness your meeting with Rule. But I can guess. I am quite acute, you know.”

She abandoned the sarcastic attitude she had adopted, and stretched out her hand. “Oh, Robert, can you not see that I am upset?”

“Easily,” he answered. “So are my plans upset, but I don’t permit that to put me in a taking.”

She looked at him, wondering. He had an alert air, his eyes were bright and smiling. No, he was not one to give way to unprofitable emotion. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “If Rule means to stop the girl—”

He snapped his fingers. “I said my plans were upset. I believe it to be quite true.”

“You don’t seem to care,” she remarked.

“There are always more plans to be made,” he said. “Not for you,” he added kindly. “You may as well make up your mind to that. I am really distressed for you, my dear. Rule must have been so useful.” He eyed her for a moment, and his smile broadened. “Oh, did you love him, Caroline? That was unwise of you.”

She got up. “You’re abominable, Robert,” she said. “I must see him. I must make him see me.”

“Do, by all means,” Lethbridge said cordially. “I wish you may plague him to death; he would dislike that. But you won’t get him back, my poor dear. Very well do I know Rule. Would you like to see him humbled? I promise you you shall.”

She walked away to the window. “No,” she said indifferently.

“Odd!” he commented. “I assure you, with me it has become quite an obsession.” He came towards her. “You are not very good company today, Caroline. I shall take my leave of you. Do make Rule a scene and then I will come to see you again, and you shall tell me all about it.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “Au revoir, my love!” he said sweetly, and went out humming a little tune under his breath.

He was on his way home to Half-Moon Street when my Lady Rule’s landaulet turned a corner of the road and came at a smart pace towards him. Horatia, seated alone now, saw him at once, and seemed undecided. Lethbridge swept off his hat and stood waiting for the carriage to draw up.

Something in that calm assumption that she would order her coachman to stop appealed to Horatia. She gave the necessary command and the landaulet came to a standstill beside Lethbridge.

One look at her was enough to assure Lethbridge that she knew just what had happened at Ranelagh. The grey eyes held a gleam of amusement. It annoyed him but he would not let that appear.

“Alas, the jealous husband came off with the honours!” he said.

“He w-was clever, wasn’t he?” Horatia agreed.

“But inspired!” Lethbridge said. “My damp fate was particularly apt. Make him my compliments, I beg of you. I was certainly caught napping.”

She thought that he was taking his humiliating defeat very well, and replied a little more warmly: “We were b-both caught napping, and p-perhaps it was as well, sir.”

“I blame myself,” he said meditatively. “Yet I don’t know how I could have guessed... If I had but been aware of Caroline Massey’s presence I might have been more on my guard.”

The arrow struck home as he knew it would. Horatia sat up very straight. “Lady Massey?”

“Oh, did you not see her! No, I suppose not. It seems that she and Rule laid their heads together to plan our undoing. We must admit they succeeded admirably.”

“It’s n-not t-true!” Horatia stammered.

“But—” He broke off artistically, and bowed. “Why, of course not, ma’am!”

She stared fiercely at him. “Why did you say that?”

“My dear, I beg a thousand pardons! Don’t give it another thought! Depend upon it, it was no such thing.”

“Who told you?” she demanded.

“No one told me,” he said soothingly. “I merely thought that the fair lady knew a vast deal of what happened last night. But I am sure I was wrong.”

“You w-were wrong!” she said. “I shall ask R-Rule!”

He smiled. “An excellent notion, ma’am, if it will set your mind at rest.”

She said rather pathetically: “You do think he will say it was n-nonsense, don’t you?”

“I am quite sure he will,” said Lethbridge, laughing, and stood back to allow the coachman to drive on.

He flattered himself he was an adept at shooting tiny poisonous shafts; certainly that one had gone home. While she assured herself it was a lie Horatia could not help remembering, first Lady Massey’s cruel little smile, and second, Rule’s own words: She did indeed know. And of course now Lethbridge had put her in mind of it she realized that whether the tale was true or not Rule would be bound to deny it. She did not believe it, no, but she could not help thinking about it. She could not rid herself of the idea that as a rival to the beautiful Lady Massey she stood no chance of success. Crosby Drelincourt had been the first to tell her in his oblique fashion that Lady Massey was Rule’s mistress, but it was to Theresa Maulfrey that she was indebted for further information. Mrs Maulfrey had never liked her young cousin very much, but she had made a determined attempt to cultivate her friendship as soon as she became a Countess. Unfortunately, Horatia had no more liking for Theresa than Theresa had for her, and perfectly understood the meaning of that lady’s sudden amiability. As Charlotte had so shrewdly guessed, Mrs Maulfrey had tried to patronize Horatia and when the gay Countess showed plainly that she stood in no need of patronage she had found herself quite unable to resist the temptation of saying a great many spiteful things. On the subject of Rule and his loves she spoke as a woman of the world, and as such carried weight. Horatia was left with the impression that Rule had been for years the Massey’s slave. And, as Mrs Maulfrey so sapiently remarked, a man did not change his mode of life for a chit in her teens. Mrs Maulfrey spoke of him admiringly as an accomplished lover: Horatia had no notion of swelling the ranks of his conquests. She supposed—for gentlemen were known to be strange in these matters—that he would be quite capable of making love to his wife in the interval between dalliance with widows and opera-dancers. However, since she had married him on the tacit understanding that he might amuse himself as he pleased, she could hardly object now.

So the Earl of Rule, setting out to woo his young wife, found her polite, always gay, but extremely elusive. She treated him in the friendliest way possible—rather, he thought ruefully, as she might treat an indulgent father.

Lady Louisa, considering that the state of affairs was unsatisfactory, took him roundly to task. “Don’t tell me!” she said. “You’re in a fair way of doting on that child! Lord, I’m out of all patience with you! Why don’t you make her love you? You seem to be able to do it with any other misguided female, though why I don’t know!”

“Ah!” said the Earl. “But then you are only my sister, Louisa.”

“And don’t try to turn it off!” said Lady Louisa wrathfully. “Make love to the girl! Gracious heaven, why isn’t she in love with you?”

“Because,” said the Earl slowly, “I am too old for her.”

“Stuff and fiddle!” snapped her ladyship.

When the Earl went down to Meering a week later he suggested that Horatia should accompany him. Perhaps if Lady Massey had not chosen the previous evening to throw herself in his way, Horatia might have wished for nothing better. But Rule and she had gone to Vauxhall Gardens with a snug party of their own contriving, and Lady Massey had gone there also.

It had all been mighty pleasant until after supper. There was music and dancing and everything had been very gay, the supper excellent and the Earl an ideal husband and host. And then it had all gone awry, for when she had tripped off with Mr Dashwood, and Pelham, and Miss Lloyd to look at the cascade, Rule too had left the box and