quite restored to good humor.
“Ellie is not in Claymore’s style. Mama. He prefers beauties.” Wanda smiled.
It had been my intention to offer for you.... Ellie sniffed, and dashed from the room.
“No need to rub it in, love,” Mrs. Wanderley chided gently. “And Ellie really looked very nice last night, though I notice she’s got the hair yanked back again today. Claymore seemed quite taken with her when they were dancing, and he chose her to dine with too.”
“I was dining with George, Mama.”
“Yes, love, but there were plenty of other pretty girls about. And he was paying marked attention to her over dinner. Several times I remarked him smiling at her, only she is such a silly little goose that she wasn’t encouraging him at all. In fact, she got right up in the middle of it and went off somewhere.”
“There is the door knocker,” Wanda broke in. “Oh, I hope it is the Langdons.”
* * * *
Homberly and Claymore left early in the afternoon for Bath, and by the next afternoon they had attended to such duties as entering their names in the subscription books at the Lower and New Assembly Rooms, and had strolled through Sydney Gardens to ogle the beauties. A considerable number of persons had already arrived, and when they entered the Pump Room, they were accosted by a pair of London bucks who formed part of their London set.
It was Rodney Lucknow who initiated the conversation. “So this is where you are slunk off to, Clay, with your tail between your legs.”
Clay looked at him with a quizzical frown on his brow. “Slunk off to? What do you mean by that, Lucknow?”
“As if all London don’t know about the blow the Rose dealt you, thumbing her nose at you after letting you dangle after her all Season. Well, I don’t blame you for ducking out, my friend. Can’t be much fun to be the subject of common gossip. Making a great story of it, the Rose. How you tried to get her to dash for Gretna Green and all.”
“How does Everleigh take it?” Clay asked, forcing down the ire that rose and burned his throat. “I am surprised he lets her make such a cake of herself.”
“Can’t do much till the knot’s tied. Daresay he’ll come down heavy then. On the other hand, though, he was spreading the story himself. Well, it would please a homely old fellow like him, I suppose, to know the Rose chose him over a young chap like you.”
The other fellow, Ivor Milthrong, added his two cents’ worth. “I thought you’d go into rustication at your country place till this blows over. Your mama’s at Claymore Hall, ain’t she?”
“Yes, she didn’t come to London at all this year.”
“You wouldn’t be any better off there then, for she’s as bad as any to turn the screw when the cards are stacked against you,” Ivor opined, with a quite careless mixing of his metaphors.
This slur on his parent would not have been borne but for the fact that Ivor was his cousin, and a special friend of his mama. Besides, it was true enough. Sometimes Clay thought he must have the most unnatural mother in the world. Nothing so pleased her as to have something to hold over your head, and pester you with. Did she commiserate if you lost a bundle, or took a degrading tumble from your horse, or lost a girl? No such a thing! She was tickled pink to be able to rag you. It was the reason he was so assiduously avoiding his own home at this time. Mama would have the whole story from her London cronies; even if she didn’t much bother with coming to town herself anymore, she took an overweaning interest in city happenings, particularly, of course, as they related to her son.
“Bath is as good a place to hide out as any,” Rex took it up. “Nobody here but a batch of old ladies. Wouldn’t be here myself but for the fact that Mama has that old falling-apart house at Laura Place.”
“You putting up at your mother’s house at Laura Place?” Ivor asked, hoping, perhaps, to exchange his barracks at Lucknow’s old
“Ellie is not in Claymore’s style. Mama. He prefers beauties.” Wanda smiled.
It had been my intention to offer for you.... Ellie sniffed, and dashed from the room.
“No need to rub it in, love,” Mrs. Wanderley chided gently. “And Ellie really looked very nice last night, though I notice she’s got the hair yanked back again today. Claymore seemed quite taken with her when they were dancing, and he chose her to dine with too.”
“I was dining with George, Mama.”
“Yes, love, but there were plenty of other pretty girls about. And he was paying marked attention to her over dinner. Several times I remarked him smiling at her, only she is such a silly little goose that she wasn’t encouraging him at all. In fact, she got right up in the middle of it and went off somewhere.”
“There is the door knocker,” Wanda broke in. “Oh, I hope it is the Langdons.”
* * * *
Homberly and Claymore left early in the afternoon for Bath, and by the next afternoon they had attended to such duties as entering their names in the subscription books at the Lower and New Assembly Rooms, and had strolled through Sydney Gardens to ogle the beauties. A considerable number of persons had already arrived, and when they entered the Pump Room, they were accosted by a pair of London bucks who formed part of their London set.
It was Rodney Lucknow who initiated the conversation. “So this is where you are slunk off to, Clay, with your tail between your legs.”
Clay looked at him with a quizzical frown on his brow. “Slunk off to? What do you mean by that, Lucknow?”
“As if all London don’t know about the blow the Rose dealt you, thumbing her nose at you after letting you dangle after her all Season. Well, I don’t blame you for ducking out, my friend. Can’t be much fun to be the subject of common gossip. Making a great story of it, the Rose. How you tried to get her to dash for Gretna Green and all.”
“How does Everleigh take it?” Clay asked, forcing down the ire that rose and burned his throat. “I am surprised he lets her make such a cake of herself.”
“Can’t do much till the knot’s tied. Daresay he’ll come down heavy then. On the other hand, though, he was spreading the story himself. Well, it would please a homely old fellow like him, I suppose, to know the Rose chose him over a young chap like you.”
The other fellow, Ivor Milthrong, added his two cents’ worth. “I thought you’d go into rustication at your country place till this blows over. Your mama’s at Claymore Hall, ain’t she?”
“Yes, she didn’t come to London at all this year.”
“You wouldn’t be any better off there then, for she’s as bad as any to turn the screw when the cards are stacked against you,” Ivor opined, with a quite careless mixing of his metaphors.
This slur on his parent would not have been borne but for the fact that Ivor was his cousin, and a special friend of his mama. Besides, it was true enough. Sometimes Clay thought he must have the most unnatural mother in the world. Nothing so pleased her as to have something to hold over your head, and pester you with. Did she commiserate if you lost a bundle, or took a degrading tumble from your horse, or lost a girl? No such a thing! She was tickled pink to be able to rag you. It was the reason he was so assiduously avoiding his own home at this time. Mama would have the whole story from her London cronies; even if she didn’t much bother with coming to town herself anymore, she took an overweaning interest in city happenings, particularly, of course, as they related to her son.
“Bath is as good a place to hide out as any,” Rex took it up. “Nobody here but a batch of old ladies. Wouldn’t be here myself but for the fact that Mama has that old falling-apart house at Laura Place.”
“You putting up at your mother’s house at Laura Place?” Ivor asked, hoping, perhaps, to exchange his barracks at Lucknow’s old
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