regarding her feet. ‘You w-want to know w-why I haven’t paid them myself.’
‘My inquisitive disposition,’ murmured his lordship.
‘I c-couldn’t,’ said Horatia gruffly. ‘That’s w-why!’
‘A very adequate reason,’ said that placid voice. ‘But I thought I had made provision. My lamentable memory must be at fault again.’
Horatia set her teeth. ‘I m-may deserve it, sir, but p-please don’t be odious. You know you m-made provision.’
He laid the bills down. ‘Pharaoh, Horry?’
‘Oh n-no, not all of it!’ she said eagerly, glad to be able to produce an extenuating circumstance. ‘B-Basset!’
‘I see.’
The note of amusement had left his voice; she ventured to raise her eyes, and saw something very like a frown on his face. ‘Are you d-dreadfully angry?’ she blurted out.
The frown cleared. ‘Anger is too fatiguing an emotion, my dear. I was wondering how best to cure you.’
‘C-cure me? You can’t. It’s in the b-blood,’ said Horatia frankly. ‘And even Mama don’t disapprove of gaming. I didn’t understand it quite p-perfectly at first, and I d-daresay that is why I lost.’
‘Quite possibly,’ assented Rule. ‘Madam Wife, I am con-strained to tell you – in my character of indignant husband – that I cannot countenance excessive gaming.’
‘Don’t, oh don’t,’ implored Horatia, ‘m-make me promise to p-play only whist and silver pharaoh! I c-couldn’t keep it! I will be m-more careful, and I’m sorry about those shocking bills! – Oh gracious, only look at the time! I must go, I p-positively must go!’
‘Don’t distress yourself, Horry,’ recommended the Earl. ‘To be the last arrival is always effective.’ But he spoke to space. Horatia had gone.
His wife’s gyrations, however much perturbation they might occasion Lady Louisa, were watched by others with very different feelings. Mr Crosby Drelincourt, whose world had assumed a uniformly dun hue from the moment of his cousin’s betrothal, began to observe a ray of light breaking through the gloom, and Lady Massey, taking note of the young Countess’s every exploit and extravagance, patiently bided her time. Rule’s visits to Hertford Street had become more infrequent, but she was far too clever to reproach him, and took care to be her most charming self whenever she saw him. She was already acquainted with Horatia – a circumstance she owed to the kind offices of Mr Drelincourt, who made it his business to present her to the Countess at a ball – but beyond exchanging curtsies and polite greetings with Horatia whenever they chanced to meet she had not sought to increase the friendship. Rule had a way of seeing more than he appeared to, and it was unlikely that he would permit an intimacy between his wife and his mistress to grow up without interference.
It seemed to be Mr Drelincourt’s self-appointed duty to make presentations to his new cousin. He even presented Robert Lethbridge to her, at a drum at Richmond. His lordship had been out of town when the Earl and Countess of Rule returned from their honeymoon and by the time he first clapped eyes on the bride she had already – as young Mr Dashwood so brilliantly phrased it – Taken the Town by Storm.
Lord Lethbridge saw her first at the drum, dressed in satin soupir étouffe, with a coiffure en diadème. A patch called the Gallant was set in the middle of her cheek, and she fluttered ribbons à l’attention. She certainly took the eye, which may have been the reason for Lord Lethbridge’s absorption.
He stood against one wall of the long saloon, and his eyes rested on the bride with a curious expression in them, hard to read. Mr Drelincourt, observing him from a distance, ranged alongside, and said with a titter: ‘You are admiring my new cousin, my lord?’
‘Profoundly,’ said Lethbridge.
‘For my part,’ shrugged Mr Drelincourt, never one to conceal his feelings, ‘I find those eyebrows positively grotesque. I do not call
‘My inquisitive disposition,’ murmured his lordship.
‘I c-couldn’t,’ said Horatia gruffly. ‘That’s w-why!’
‘A very adequate reason,’ said that placid voice. ‘But I thought I had made provision. My lamentable memory must be at fault again.’
Horatia set her teeth. ‘I m-may deserve it, sir, but p-please don’t be odious. You know you m-made provision.’
He laid the bills down. ‘Pharaoh, Horry?’
‘Oh n-no, not all of it!’ she said eagerly, glad to be able to produce an extenuating circumstance. ‘B-Basset!’
‘I see.’
The note of amusement had left his voice; she ventured to raise her eyes, and saw something very like a frown on his face. ‘Are you d-dreadfully angry?’ she blurted out.
The frown cleared. ‘Anger is too fatiguing an emotion, my dear. I was wondering how best to cure you.’
‘C-cure me? You can’t. It’s in the b-blood,’ said Horatia frankly. ‘And even Mama don’t disapprove of gaming. I didn’t understand it quite p-perfectly at first, and I d-daresay that is why I lost.’
‘Quite possibly,’ assented Rule. ‘Madam Wife, I am con-strained to tell you – in my character of indignant husband – that I cannot countenance excessive gaming.’
‘Don’t, oh don’t,’ implored Horatia, ‘m-make me promise to p-play only whist and silver pharaoh! I c-couldn’t keep it! I will be m-more careful, and I’m sorry about those shocking bills! – Oh gracious, only look at the time! I must go, I p-positively must go!’
‘Don’t distress yourself, Horry,’ recommended the Earl. ‘To be the last arrival is always effective.’ But he spoke to space. Horatia had gone.
His wife’s gyrations, however much perturbation they might occasion Lady Louisa, were watched by others with very different feelings. Mr Crosby Drelincourt, whose world had assumed a uniformly dun hue from the moment of his cousin’s betrothal, began to observe a ray of light breaking through the gloom, and Lady Massey, taking note of the young Countess’s every exploit and extravagance, patiently bided her time. Rule’s visits to Hertford Street had become more infrequent, but she was far too clever to reproach him, and took care to be her most charming self whenever she saw him. She was already acquainted with Horatia – a circumstance she owed to the kind offices of Mr Drelincourt, who made it his business to present her to the Countess at a ball – but beyond exchanging curtsies and polite greetings with Horatia whenever they chanced to meet she had not sought to increase the friendship. Rule had a way of seeing more than he appeared to, and it was unlikely that he would permit an intimacy between his wife and his mistress to grow up without interference.
It seemed to be Mr Drelincourt’s self-appointed duty to make presentations to his new cousin. He even presented Robert Lethbridge to her, at a drum at Richmond. His lordship had been out of town when the Earl and Countess of Rule returned from their honeymoon and by the time he first clapped eyes on the bride she had already – as young Mr Dashwood so brilliantly phrased it – Taken the Town by Storm.
Lord Lethbridge saw her first at the drum, dressed in satin soupir étouffe, with a coiffure en diadème. A patch called the Gallant was set in the middle of her cheek, and she fluttered ribbons à l’attention. She certainly took the eye, which may have been the reason for Lord Lethbridge’s absorption.
He stood against one wall of the long saloon, and his eyes rested on the bride with a curious expression in them, hard to read. Mr Drelincourt, observing him from a distance, ranged alongside, and said with a titter: ‘You are admiring my new cousin, my lord?’
‘Profoundly,’ said Lethbridge.
‘For my part,’ shrugged Mr Drelincourt, never one to conceal his feelings, ‘I find those eyebrows positively grotesque. I do not call
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