Best Laid Plans

37

Best Laid Plans

    “There is no hope that it will not be all over Bath before sunset,” noted Lewis dispassionately when the outraged Mrs Throgmorton, who had refused to listen to a word of the explanation that was offered her, had swept out.

    Nan’s cheeks were very flushed. “No,” she agreed.

    “You had best agree to marry me at once,” he said calmly.

    At this Nan’s cheeks became even hotter. “Rubbeesh!” she snapped.

    “I am quite serious. Your reputation is irretrievably lost. Aunt Agatha has innumerable connexions, and she is an indefatigable correspondent: old Hugh Throgmorton, to name only one, will have the story within the week; and that means the Hammonds, you know.”

    Nan licked her lips. “The—the Marquis and Marchioness of Rockingham deed not strike me as the sort of people who—who believe nasty stories weethout proof.”

    “We shall not argue over whether Aunt Agatha’s word constitutes proof. Mayhap they will not believe it, but they will be two lone voices in a wilderness of spiteful gossip, I do assure you.”

    “Mm,” she admitted, swallowing hard.

    “Don’t cry,” he murmured.

    “I am not going to cry!” she flashed. “I am trying to theenk of a way out of eet!”

    “There is no way out of it. I repeat, you must marry me. At least I shall be able to stop calling you ‘Lady Benedict’, the which has become very tedious,” he murmured.

    Nan looked at him blankly.

    “Added to which, it is such a mouthful: it does not suit you at all.”

    “Lord Stamforth,” she said, drawing a deep breath, “please stop talking nonsense. I cannot possibly marry you, eet ees out of the question. You are een thees unfortunate situation because I abducted you: you have no responsibility whatsoever een the matter, and I weell not allow you to shoulder eet.”

    “Your grasp of the English vernacular is really excellent.” he murmured, “though in that last sentence, the final pronoun perhaps left something to be desired.”

    “Stop eet!” shouted Nan. “I am serious!”

    “So am I. You must marry me. –It is my reputation, too,” he added as she opened her mouth.

    “Oh,” said Nan, very disconcerted.

    “Of course, a man’s reputation does not suffer in these circumstances in precisely the same way as a woman’s. But I would not care to have it known in Society that I had had the audacity to set up my mistress in the most respectable of Bath squares without regard to the—er—sensibilities of the inhabitants.”

    After a moment Nan said flatly: “Rubbeesh.”

    “No, it is not rubbish, Lady Benedict, I fear. I do owe something to my name.”

    Nan once more went very red. “Yes. But eet ees all my fault, and ees not fair that you should be made to suffer for eet!”

    “True. But then, nothing in life is fair. It is not fair that Clara was born into lower-class poverty instead of truly being a Vane; and it is not fair, either,” he said with a shrewd look, “that Amrita’s parentage is what it is.”

    “How deed—?” Nan bounced up, rushed to the door and opened it. The hall was empty. She closed the door firmly and rushed over to Lewis’s side. “Never dare to breathe a word of eet as long as you Ieeve!” she hissed fiercely.

    “I shall not, but if we are to be married, I thought I had best let you know that there is one thing, at least, that you need no longer bother to conceal from me.”

    “Who told you?” said Nan with tears in her eyes. “Dom, I suppose?”

    “No; no-one told me. I guessed. I suppose I half-consciously began to put dates and facts together in my head, and they did not altogether make sense; and nor did some of the things you had all told me of Rani’s history.”

    She gulped.

    “It is possible,” said Lewis carefully, “that someone as close to you as Miss Jeffreys might also guess; but I do not think there is another soul in England who would suspect.”

    “No, because there ees not another soul een England weeth such a crafty and devious mind as yours!” she cried with tears in her eyes.

    “I’m sorry. I thought you would rather l admitted I knew.”

    After a moment Nan said: “You are right. At least I—do not have to tell you, now.”

    “No,” said Lewis, looking at her thoughtfully. “Did you imagine you might at some time have to?”

    “No,” she said, going very red.

    “Well, I am glad you are not favouring me with some nonsense about believing that there should be no secrets between a man and a woman who intend marrying.”

    Scowling, Nan replied: “We do not eentend marrying.”

    “I do. And you must. You should talk it over with your friends, but I am sure they will advise you that it is the only recourse.”

    “I shall go to Portugal, to Dom,” she said grimly.

    Lewis grasped her hands firmly in his; she tried to pull away, but he held on. “You cannot do that. We are not nobodies: the Portuguese Embassy will be quite sure to have the story. And my name,” he said with a grimace, “is not particularly popular there. The story will get back to Portugal, and Dom and his wife and children will be shunned. Is that what you want?”

    “No,” said Nan tearfully.

    “Your parents’ elopement will not have been forgotten there, either. With no further scandal and with the support of such persons as your Uncle Érico and the Carvalho dos Santos family, you might all live quietly and respectably in Portugal. But not with this sort of scandal attached to you.”

    “Then what shall we do?” she cried.

    “I have said: marry me,” said Lewis, his grip tightening.

    “No.” Nan endeavoured to wrench her hands away; he released her suddenly and she staggered.

    “I beg your pardon,” he said formally, putting a hand gently under her elbow.

    “I am quite all right, thank you,” said Nan grimly. “—Even eef we were to marry, i cannot see that eet would scotch the scandal.”

    “Not immediately, no. But we should have a quiet year whilst the family is in mourning for Uncle Peter—oh. and I can guarantee,” he said with a curl of his lip, “that once the knot is tied, none of the Vanes will cut you, not even Aunt Agatha—and talk will die down very quickly. We shall even be able, I think, to launch Daphne properly next Season,” he ended, with a sardonic glint in his eye.

    Nan gulped.

    “Presentation at Court, all the fol-de-rol,” he drawled.

    “Yes! –Oh, my God,” she muttered.

    Lewis watched her silently.

    “You may be right: there may be no other recourse,” she said grimly.

    “I am right. And there is the additional paint that after more than one scandal linking our two names—for they will rake up the Pom-Pom business,” he said on an apologetic note, “—no respectable family would accept an offer from me for their daughter.”

    “Yes,” said Nan, swallowing. “I see. You mean I have ruined you, too.”

    “Well, the Curwellions of this world might not care,” he said with a slight shrug, “but otherwise, yes.”

    Nan’s jaw trembled. “I shall theenk eet over carefully, Lord Stamforth. And—and pray forgive my rudeness. I vairy much appreciate the generosity of your offer. Eef there ees any way to prevent you sacrificing yourself on my account I shall find eet. Please, excuse me.”

    She went out, her head held very high.

    Lewis looked after her drily. It would not be such a sacrifice as all that. He wandered over to Pol Parrot. “Hé bien, dis-moi que tu m’aimes, toi, Pol Parrot,” he said ruefully.

    “Dis-moi que tu m’aimes! Dis-moi que tu m’aimes!” squawked Pol Parrot.

    “Quite,” said Lewis on a sour note.

    “Oh, dear, this is dreadful!” cried Cherry, her hands going to her cheeks.

    ‘Yes,” agreed Nan tightly. “You must not stay here weeth me any longer, Cherry. Nor you, Iris,” she added quickly as Iris opened her mouth. “What your brother and your Aunt Kate weell say when they hear of thees, I shudder to theenk!”

    Susan and Daphne had been admitted to the consultation: there seemed little point in trying to shelter them, much though Nan would have liked to. Now Susan cried with tears in her eyes: “Then they will be unjust and—and horrid! No-one who knows you could possibly believe such a thing of you, dearest Nan! And it is all my fault!” She burst into loud sobs.

    “Eh?” said Iris, gaping at her.

    “Hush. I theenk she means because of Ruth,” said Nan, putting her arm around Susan from one side as Daphne did so from the other. “Hush, Susan, my love; eet ees true that you were directly responsible for rescuing Ruth and starting eet all, but you deed nothing that the rest of us would not have done. You must not blame yourself.”

    “No, absolutely! We are all een eet together!” Daphne agreed warmly.

    Susan cried for a while, but gradually allowed herself to be comforted, and blew her nose.

    Somehow her stepdaughter’s distress decided Nan. Whatever stories Mrs Urqhart might know to the discredit of the lady who was Eric Charleson’s mamma, she was extremely respectable now: she would not countenance for an instant her son’s allying himself with a connexion of the woman known to be Viscount Stamforth’s illicit lover. But Lady Stamforth’s stepdaughter? That would be a very different thing.

    “Eet weell be all right; I shall marry heem,” she said tightly.

    “He is a very good sort of a man, Nan,” said Iris awkwardly.

    “He is a lovely man!” cried Cherry. “He is all that is admirable!”

    “Cherry,” said Nan, taking a deep breath: “eef you could see een the case of yourself and Sir Noël that eet would have been truly reprehensible to accept a man’s offer merely because eet was a convenience to oneself to do so, why can you not see eet een mine and Lord Stamforth’s?”

    “But it is not the same!” she cried, her cheeks very flushed. “You were keeping him safe!”

    “I think she has a point, Nan,” murmured Iris.

    “Yes, vairy well.” said Nan with a sigh. “We shall not argue over eet, Cherry.”

    “But I do see what you mean,” said Cherry flatly, suddenly looking depressed.

    “You like him, though, Nan,” urged Iris.

    “Do not be stupeed!” she flashed. “He has not offered because I like heem or he likes me, he has offered because he feels he must!”

    “Mm,” Iris admitted, wincing.

    “And you are going home thees vairy day,” she added.

    “No! It may make it a little better for you if I am seen to be here.”

    “I think she is right. We shall both make it known that we are with you, dearest Nan,” said Cherry bravely.

    “Yes. As a matter of fact I shall go and tell Troope immediately to admit Sir Noël to the house,” decided Iris, getting up. “In fact, to admit anyone: we cannot have too many supporters. –By the way,” she said with her hand on the doorknob: “how in God’s name did the Throgmorton woman get past Troope?”

    “There ees no point een recriminations, Iris: the fact ees that Pip Ames was een the hall alone, and deed not know he was to deny me to all callers,” said Nan with a sigh.

    “Mm.” Iris went out.

    “She should go home,” said Daphne timidly.

    “Yes,” agreed Nan grimly. “And you must go to June and Merry, Cherry.”

    “I shall not,” she said, sticking out her chin.

    “But you have been meexed up een one scandal already: you know what Bath ees like! You must not eenvolve yourself een another!”

   “I shall not desert you,” said Cherry. She got up and came to kiss Nan’s cheek.

    Forthwith Nan burst into a storm of overwrought tears.

    When she was over them Daphne said bravely: “You do not have to marry heem eef you could not care for eet, Nan. We could go to Portugal and live quietly on the property.”

    “No. There are the consequences for Dom and hees children to theenk of,” she said grimly.

    “Oh. Yes, of course.”

    “And eef you imagine that Everard Benedict wuh-would ever luh-let—”

    “Hush, do not cry again,” said Susan, squeezing her hand very tight. “He cannot take us from you by force.”

    Nan burst into tears again, sobbing out something to the effect that he could, it was not fair, men had all the rights and women had none—

    Nobody listened very much: they just patted her back and squeezed her hand, and made soothing noises. And when Iris came back, between the four of them they got her off to her room to rest.

    “We must talk, I think,” said Iris glumly on the landing.

    The young ladies accompanied Miss Jeffreys in silence to their little sitting-room. Once there the other three looked hopefully at her.

    “I think it may work out for the best,” she said cautiously.

    “Iris, not eef Nan does not love heem!” protested Daphne.

    Iris scratched her head. “I think she does, you know. She is not admitting it to herself, yet.”

    “I think so, too,” said Cherry, nodding. “And there can be little doubt that he is in love with her.”

    “Ye-es...” said Iris slowly. “No, no, I agree!” she said hastily as Cherry gave her an indignant look. “But being in love and being ready to offer marriage are two different things, for a man of his age.”

    “I think I see...” said Susan slowly. “Certainly I have always thought that he admired her very much... But when he did not offer after the encounter with Prince Pom-Pom, it was indicative, was it not?”

    Iris nodded. “Mm. Um—I think I might speak to him, actually, since Dom isn’t here to do it. I think someone in the family should.”

    “Should I come, too?” asked Daphne bravely.

    Iris would have been glad of her support, but why put the little thing through it? “Thank you, my dear, but no. We don’t want to appear to align ourselves against him.”

    “No-o… You weell not give heem the impression that we do not want heem, weell you, Iris?” she said anxiously.

    “I shan’t do that. –I think we should show our noses round the town. Even though you may not feel like it, I think perhaps you girls should take a walk.”

    “Vairy slowly past that cat Miss Diddy Carey’s house!” agreed Daphne fiercely. “Yes! Come on, Susan, get your bonnet!”

    Cherry accompanied Iris slowly downstairs. “I will stick by Nan, of course. But I cannot truly see that anything we can do will do any good,” she said in a low voice.

    “Not if the Throgmorton woman’s as black as she’s painted. Is she?”

    Cherry shuddered. “Worse!”

    “Mm. Well, they’re going to have to make the best of it.”

    “Ye-es... Iris,” she said. swallowing, “surely the—the domestic situation will be very awkward for them, if they marry because they have no other option?”

    Iris winced. “Yes. Though to speak plainly, they can afford to live in a house that is big enough for them to have separate apartments: indeed, lead separate lives, if they wish.”

    “But that is just it!” said Cherry, very pink but extremely determined. “If they start off on that basis, they may never become closer: they may live as strangers for the rest of their days!”

    “I’ve been trying for some time not to think that they are both of them just obstinate enough to do precisely that,” admitted Iris grimly.

    Cherry shivered.

    “Don’t,” said Iris, putting an arm round her. “Au fond, Nan is too warm-hearted a creature to be able to live like that. I think that whatever her stubborn head may dictate, her heart will push her in the other way.”

    Cherry thought it over, and looked more cheerful. “Yes, you are right! And he? What do you think, Iris?”

    Iris looked at the closed sitting-room door. “I’m about to find out. Wish me luck.”

    Lewis was lounging in the window. “There’s a fat female with bows, headin’ our way,” he drawled.

    “I think, from Daphne’s graphic description of the creature, it will be Miss Diddy Carey.” Iris rang the bell.

    Pip Ames appeared, looking cowed. Iris did not think she was imagining that the boy’s eyes were red. “Pip, please do not admit Miss Diddy Carey to the house today.”

    “Don’t admit any nosey females,” said Stamforth’s deep voice from behind her; Iris repressed a gasp. “But do admit Sir Noël Amory or any of the Amory family, or a lady called Mrs Laidlaw.”

    “Yes, my Lord. I know Mrs Laidlaw, my Lord,” he said respectfully.

    “Thank you.”

    Pip Ames bowed deeply and exited.

    “I collect the bawling out was done by Troope?” said Iris.

    “It was certainly not done by me.”

    “Nor Nan, neither.”

    “No, she is not that sort of woman,” he murmured.

    “No.” Iris took a deep breath.

    “My intentions are honourable and I shall not kick up over settlements,” he said instantly.

    “Yes, you are not slow on the uptake,” said Iris grimly. “But I wish, rather, to assure you that Nan’s family would never blame you if you withdrew your very generous offer. I think I can persuade my brother to allow her to live quietly at Vaudequays until it all blows over. And we shall look after Daphne.”

    Lewis eyed her drily. “Thank you, I suppose. I can almost see you persuading Keywes to do it, too.”

    “He is not unjust, just rather conventional. He will see that although it was headstrong and foolish of Nan to hide you in her house—”

    “Miss Jeffreys, you are very kind, but I’m afraid you are being too generous,” he said on a tired note.

    “What?” said Iris blankly, staring.

    Lewis ran his hand over his thinning hair. “Look, I’m a damned fool: I let my sense of humour run away with me.”

    Iris just stared blankly.

    “When I woke up and found myself in this ridiculous situation!” he said impatiently. “Lurid dressing-gowns and all: where does the boy buy ’em?” he added.

    “Oh. Oh, good God: you mean—”

    “I mean, had I wanted to escape, I would not have let a mere lack of breeches stop me from climbing down the drainpipe.”

    Iris swallowed.

    “As I say, I let my sense of humour run away with me. –The other one of my besetting sins,” he said with a grimace.

    “So—so you are not mad as fire with her?”

    “No! Good God, did you think I was?”

    “Er—well, you have certainly seemed a trifle stiff in your manner since you—um—woke up,” said Iris feebly,

    Lewis collapsed onto the sofa with a loud groan. “Miss Jeffreys, that is because I have been trying my damnedest not to laugh my head off over the whole thing!”

    Iris smiled feebly and also sat down.

    After quite some time she croaked: “You still do not have to offer.”

    “But— Alors, merde, ta gueule, Pol Parrot!” he cried as Pol Parrot, stirred into action by who know what, danced on his perch, croaking: “Dis-moi que tu m’aimes! Hullo, Aggie! Hullo, Pol Parrot! Dis-moi que tu m’aimes!”

    “Why does it say that?” said Iris limply.

    “I cannot say: some quirk of my Great-Aunt Sophia’s. And the Aggie it refers to, since you do not ask, is my Aunt Agatha Throgmorton, yes. And since you do not ask,” he said, as Iris’s jaw sagged, “yes, the damned creature did say it the minute she walked in.”

    Iris gasped, failed to control herself, and went off in a fit of helpless laughter.

    “That’s better,” said Lewis drily, when she was over it.

    “Oh, dear: yes! But seriously,” said Iris, wiping her eyes and sitting up straight: “I mean it: the family will take care of Nan and Daphne.”

    “Mm. But I mean my offer. Though I did not intend to offer while her nose is still thoroughly out of joint because I deceived her over the damned title. Oh, and I shall write very fully of my financial position both to your brother and to Dom.”

    Iris went rather red but said: “Well, thank you. Nan has more than enough, of course. But Robert will certainly be glad to hear from you.”

    “Good,” he said, getting up and holding out his hand.

    Limply Iris allowed him to assist her to rise and then to bow over her hand.

    “I do love her,” he said abruptly, going very red. “But—pray don’t be insulted on her account, or the family’s—I was hesitating over whether it would be wise to make an offer, before this blew up.”

    Iris nodded silently.

    “I think I can manage,” said Lewis Vane dispassionately, “not to patronise her for being a mere female or to run her life for her high-handedly, à la Noël Amory. At least, not to do so overtly.”

    Iris swallowed and essayed a feeble smile. “No.”

    “But,” he said with a sigh, running his hand over his hair again: “I’m damned if I can promise not to strangle her if she continues to flirt with other men.”

    Iris replied cautiously: “She is the sort of woman who needs male admiration.”

    “Mm. I understand that it will be up to me to give her the sort of admiration she needs.” He looked wry. “All the while not patronising her for being a mere female.”

    She gulped. “Something like that.”

    “She does not appear to dislike it from such as old Kernohan,” he said acidly.

    “No. Well, I can’t explain it, Lord Stamforth!”

    “Nor tell me what she needs from a man who is not an admirer, but a husband? No, of course you cannot, you are the merest girl yourself,” he said with a sigh. “Well, I can try. If she will let me get near her.”

    Iris was now very red, but she said bravely: “That is a not inconsiderable point. Er—Rani’s theory seems to be that you will need to put her over your knee. Several times, I think she meant to imply.”

    Lewis shrugged. “If I lose my temper, it may well come to that. But I once told her that I did not wish to be her mentor, and it is true. And she certainly gave me to understand that she does not wish for one.”

    “No-o... Perhaps she does, in a way. --I’m sorry, that is no help,” she said awkwardly. “But—well, perhaps all human beings are composed of contradictions. But Nan is certainly so.”

    “Yes.” He turned away from her and went over to the window.

    Iris looked at his back uncertainly. Eventually she said timidly: “Lord Stamforth, I don’t wish to give you the wrong impression, or—or raise false hopes. But I think Nan is—is pretty much on the way to being in love with you.”

    Lewis sighed and turned round slowly. “I know that.”

    Iris gaped. “Oh,” she said numbly.

    “But I do not know how to get her to admit it. Nor do I know if it will be enough.”

    “Enough?” she faltered.

    “Enough for her to accept the tedium of life with me,” he said grimly.

    “What?” said Iris limply.

    “You need not say that it will probably be no more tedious than life with any other hopeful. The point is, does she even want matrimony and domesticity?”

    “I—Um, well, she is a very feminine woman!” gasped poor Iris, feeling now completely out of her depth.

    “A very feminine woman: yes,” he said on a strange note.

    “What is it?” she asked limply.

    “She once told me she would like to be a man and seek her fortune in the Indies. as her father did,” he said bitterly.

    After a stunned moment Iris managed to say: “I see. I think many of us have these impulses. But if Nan has a Romantick imagination, she has also a strong pragmatic streak. In fact— Well. I think there is no harm in my telling you. I once suggested to her that possibly you did not tell her of your expectations because you wished, er, to be loved for yourself alone. And she informed me that one could not commit oneself to a man without knowing how he was to support one’s children.”

    Lewis ran his hand through his hair. “God,” he muttered.

    “I’m sorry; have I made it worse? Well, she is certainly a mass of contradictions. And—and I truly don’t think one can sum up any fellow human being in a few words,” ended Iris uncomfortably.

    “No. Thank you,” he said vaguely, staring unseeingly at Pol Parrot.

    Iris perceived he was lost in his thoughts. She went quietly away. But once in the hall she raised her eyebrows very high and made a hideous face. Nan’s was not the only contradictory and complex nature in the case: far from it!

    After quite some time it occurred to her that, after all, Lord Stamforth had not appeared to find the interview with herself hideously embarrassing. Why this should make her feel very much better about the whole thing, Iris did not know; but, strangely, it did.

    Lewis stared vaguely at Pol Parrot for some time, but eventually came to, and rang for writing materials. He had written several letters by the time the sitting-room door opened again.

    “Do not get up,” said Nan tightly. “I have come to say that I accept your vairy generous offer, Lord Stamforth.”

    Lewis did get up. “Lady Benedict, please let me make it clear that the fact that I am in your house is entirely my own responsibility. Had I not wished to stay, I would not have thought twice of getting out of my bedroom window in Dom’s dressing-gown, I promise you.”

    “But eet ees vairy, vairy high!” she gasped in horror.

    He smiled a little. “Not so very, very. And there is a drainpipe within easy reach. I stayed because I allowed my sense of humour to get the best of me: I found the situation intensely amusing. I was wrong to do so. I am afraid it was rather the same impulse as that which made me offer to return Pom-Pom’s bauble.”

    “I see. But eet ees far more my responsibility than yours. Nothing can alter that.”

    If she had expected him to argue, she was disappointed: he said: “That is so.”‘

    “So I—I shall be forever een your debt,” said Nan, licking her lips.

    “Yes, I suppose that is also so,” he said calmly.

    She looked at him a trifle limply but said: “I am glad you see eet.”

    “Yes. Perhaps the tedium of life at Stamforth Castle, after a period of years, will serve to repay the debt in part.”

    “Eet weell not be so dull. We shall build that house,” she said with determination.

    Miss Jeffreys’s remarks as to her cousin’s pragmatic turn of mind came back forcibly to Lewis. He eyed her wryly. “Shall we?”

    “Yes, for I do not weesh to put Mina, Amrita, Johnny and Rosebud eento a great draughty stone castle, and you should not weesh eet for Clara Vane!” she said sharply.

    “I do not, indeed. I think that very soon we shall have to have a detailed discussion of our financial affairs.’

    “Yes, I have thought of that. We had best go to London, and see Mr Quigley and your man of business at the same time. Although eef your agent need be there, the meeting could be at the castle.”

    “My agent is a new man: I have got rid of the rascal who was helping Uncle Peter to bleed the tenants, and the tenants to bleed the land. A meeting in London will be quite satisfactory.”

    “Good.” Nan took a deep breath. “Susan has her own money: some ees from her late Mamma, and some the portion that Hugo left for her. Everard Benedict ees not a trustee, so eet ees quite safe.”

    “Yes, I see,” he said quietly. He picked up his pen. “Everard Benedict? And what is the address?’

    “Why?” she said suspiciously.

    “In the case that he and my damned Aunt Agatha should have mutual acquaintances, Lady Benedict! –I wish him to understand very clearly that we are to be married and that your stepdaughters will have a home with me until they marry, themselves. Is he a mean man?”

    “Um—yes, vairy,” said Nan, staring. “And hees wife ees much meaner.”

    “Then I shall stress that the entire cost of such things as débuts and so forth will be borne by us.”

    “Oh. Thank you,” she said weakly. She gave him the address: Lewis wrote it down carefully.

    “Are there any more relatives that should be notified?”

    “Um—well, I shall write to Lord Keywes myself: after all, he ees the head of Mamma’s family.”

    “I have already written to him. But I agree, you should write personally.”

    Nan came up to his side and stared at his pile of letters. “You were taking my acceptance for granted, were you not?”

    “No; I wrote these in the case you should accept. I could not think of anything else to do in the interval,” he admitted.

    “Oh. Um—there ees Uncle Érico,” she said cautiously.

    “Yes, I have one for him. I have told him the whole: I think he deserves that much.”

    “About Lord Curwellion?” she gasped.

    “Certainly. I grant you that it will be all round diplomatic circles before the cat can lick her ear, but so much the better. In especial if Dom does offer for little Ruth.”

    “I theenk he may. But they are both a leetle young, as yet.”

    “Yes.” Lewis hesitated. “I have written to Dom. Though it was very difficult to know what to say to him.”

    Nan sighed. “He ees vairy easy-going, and he likes you. He weell not object.”

    “Perhaps not, but he will have every right to be angry that I did not climb down your drainpipe in his dressing-gown!” said Lewis strongly. “Which reminds me: where the Devil are my clothes, Lady Benedict?”

    Nan gulped. “I—I deliberately deed not bring any.’

    “What?” he groaned.

    She looked at him defiantly, sticking her lower lip out.

    “For God’s sake! I cannot get into Dom’s breeches!”

    “You are taller than he, but eet would not matter eef they were a leetle short.”

    “It is not that,” he said heavily: “I am wider in the hips.”

    “Oh. Um—one of the footmen?”

    Lewis returned acidly: “There appear to be only the inane Pip and little fat Krishna in residence, and while the latter is half my height and twice my girth, Pip is as slim a boy as Dom—nay, slimmer.”

    Inexplicably Nan went very red. She looked away from him. “Yes. Um—I theenk eet had best be Hughes, then.”

    Lewis sighed: Hughes was nigh twice his girth; too; but allowed: “Better he than Troope.”

    “Yes,” she agreed, with a weak smile.

    There was a little silence.

    “I shall tell heem,” said Nan. Before Lewis could speak, she had hurried out.

    He looked blankly at his pile of correspondence. “Damn,” he muttered.

    Stopes in person presented the note on a little silver salver, bowing. “From Lady Benedict’s house, Sir Noël.”

    “What?” he gasped, grabbing it unceremoniously. He tore it open eagerly. A stunned expression came over his handsome face.

    “Not bad news, I trust, sir?” said his grandmother’s elderly butler solicitously.

    “Er—no. Er—I shall go over there,” he said feebly.

    Stopes hastened to hold the library door for him. Nevertheless, as he showed him out of the house personally, he looked somewhat bewildered. Sir Noël had not seemed annoyed on reading the note, but he had looked… well, odd.

    “Thank you for coming so promptly to my rescue, Noël,” said Lord Stamforth, getting up.

    Noel shook his outstretched hand, goggling at the dressing-gown.

    “Dom’s,” said Lord Stamforth modestly, waving at it.

    “So I should hope. What in God’s name is going on?”

    “As my note explained, I am in dire need of breeches. Shall I breathe heavily to prove I have not been on the porto?”

    “Er—no. But what are you doing here, without your clothes?”

    “She abducted me,” said Lewis blandly.

    Noël sat down rather suddenly.

    Lewis just watched him.

    “I see,” he said shakily. “She afforded me a similar privilege.”

    “Yes. Do tell me: how and where did you get out of the hamper? No, don’t eat me!” he said with a laugh as Noël sat up in sudden wrath. “I was not privy to the scheme, I do assure you! And you at least have not suffered the indignity of being drugged for a week by her cursed Indian women.”

    “My God, Stamforth, are you all right?”

    “Well, yes, but for the past several days I have certainly felt rather odd. Woolly-kneed, y’know?”

    Noel gulped and nodded.

    “It was for my own good: she had decided that although she sent Curwellion to Southampton under heavy guard, and also drugged, he might escape and—”

    “Stop,” he groaned.

    Lewis laughed, sat down, and said: “Well, we had best exchange stories, I think?”

    They did so. Lewis’s took some considerable time.

    “I see,” said Noël, gnawing on his lip, when he had finished. “Of course you had to offer: no question. But—er—forgive me, but I think most of London would have assumed you would not be reluctant do so?”

    “I am sure,” he said sardonically. “No, I beg your pardon. At my age, I suppose one hesitates more over such decisions than one does in one’s youth.” He paused:  he thought he had heard someone at the sitting-room door; but it did not open. Possibly young Pip was listening. Well, let him; doubtless Aunt Agatha was spreading the story round Bath even as they spoke. “I do not know if you remember a damned ball—I forget which one it was, of the many,” he said with a sigh. “We went on after it for cards to—I think it was Charles Quarmby-Vine’s relations’ house.”

    Noël looked blank.

    “No, well, no matter: it was all of a piece,” said Lewis with a sigh. “I think it was that evening that I began consciously to realise that—that in the first instance I had not the force of character to control her, and that in the second I could not face with equanimity the notion of allying myself with a wayward creature who required to be controlled, instead of behaving like a responsible being.”

    Noël winced. “I entirely understand,” he said in a low voice.

    Lewis sighed. “I have been in two minds about offering, for months. I suppose it’s a good thing that my damned Aunt Agatha has precipitated the business.”

    Swallowing, Noël managed to say politely: “Of course, sir.”

    “Well,” said Lewis, drawing a deep breath, “if you can lend me a pair of breeches, dear fellow, I’ll get out of the house. Not that that will stop Aunt Agatha.”

    “No, but at least it will not rub Bath’s nose in it. I’ll send Kettle over with some clothes directly,” said Noël, rising. “And—er—if she literally bundled you off in a blanket, sir, if a loan would help—?”

    “Er—yes. Thanks very much,” said Lewis limply.

    Noël handed over a sufficiently large sum, wrung his hand very hard, and went away, frowning.

    He did not notice that as he emerged into the hall there was a flutter of sprig muslin and a soft patter of retreating feet.

    Nan had not meant to listen. She had spent some time nerving herself to discuss with Lord Stamforth the precise terms on which they would marry. Did he want a wife, or was he merely offering her his name? Discussing it might be hard, but leaving it all unsaid was, she had decided, infinitely worse! She had not realised someone was with Lewis until her hand had touched the doorknob. Then she had been unable to stop herself listening.

    She hurried up the back stairs, her face very red. So he had been in two minds about making an offer for her, had he? No wonder he had been so formal about the offer and so—so cold and passionless, since! Well, he need not be in two minds any longer, for she would show him very clearly that all she wished for was a marriage of convenience. And she would keep out of his way for as long as she lived! And as for implying she was a loose woman who would flirt uncontrollably under her husband’s very nose—!

    The scene at the card party when he had clipped off one of her curls came back very vividly to Nan: she had been so convinced at that moment that he was hers whenever she might indicate she wanted him! Well, it served her out for being so vain. And if he wanted a wife who was all cold control and propriety, that was precisely what he would get! Outside and inside his own house!

    Nan rushed into her bedroom, threw herself face down on her bed, and burst into a storm of sobs.