Time Of Trial

28

Time Of Trial

    “Er—well, whatever your sister was up to all mornin’, dear fellow, can’t have been with Henri-Louis,” said Mr Sotheby with supreme delicacy as le petit Monsieur’s spanking-new high-perch phaeton flew past them.

    “Oh?” said Dom, his nostrils flaring.

    “No: he was fencing at Fioravanti’s. Saw him with me own eyes.”

    “Well, that eliminates one,” said Dom through his teeth.

    “Er—yes. Um—Shirley Rowbotham was there, too. Just lookin’ on, y’know.”

    Dom sniffed slightly, but did not omit to say: “Two.”

    “Dare say it was only the damned bears, dear old boy,” he said consolingly.

    Dom breathed heavily.

    Mr Sotheby looked at him sadly and could not think of anything else to say that might make him feel better.

    A very late sitting of the House had successfully distracted the Colonel’s mind from all thoughts of the trip to see the bears. Supposing it had been intending to examine that subject in the first place. Which its owner, crawling wearily into bed, was not at all sure it had been. He did not think he would sleep, but he must have fallen asleep almost immediately. He woke up with his mind filled with a picture of the smoothly rounded hillock of greensward before Stamforth Castle, green-gold in the glow of the summer sun, to find himself in his shabby room in Lumb Street with the weak London sunlight filtering through the worn curtains.

    It could not be all that early: Clara Vane, fully dressed, was sitting silently beside his bed on the stool once graced by Mr Rowbotham’s elegant posterior.

    “You know them bears?” she said immediately.

    “Mm.”

    “What if,” said Clara Vane, narrowing her eyes horribly, “one of ’em was a father bear and the other was a mother bear?”

    “Er—yes, Clara Vane?”

    “Well, then they could ’ave a—a baby bear.”

    “Yes: a cub. That is not impossible, Clara.”

    “So what would ’appen to it?”

    Belatedly her drift dawned on him. He sat up hurriedly. “I am very sure the owner would train it up also, Clara. As soon as it was big enough to learn the tricks.”

    “Oh. ’E wouldn’t want to sell it, would ’e?”

    “No.”

    “I s’pose they eats a lot,” she admitted glumly.

    “Yes.”

    “Mr Poulter, ’e reckons as one day you’re goin’ to be a rich man,” she said, eyeing him sideways.

    The Colonel blenched. “That is an exaggeration, Clara. When my old uncle dies, I will inherit his property.”

    Clara Vane nodded hard.

    Lewis bit his lip. “Look, Clara Vane: a bear would be impossible in any household. I have explained to your Ma that if you both wish to come and live with me when—when I have inherited this property, you must do so. You understand, don’t you?’

    She nodded hard again. “I gets yer, Colonel.”

    “And I promise you I will get you a puppy then—or a cat, whichever you wish for.”

    “Really?” she gasped, her thin face lighting up.

    “Really.”

    “Cor: thanks, Colonel! –’Ere,” she added, eyeing him suspiciously: “what if I’m not good?”

    “I am sure you will be as good as you can. But there are no conditions attached to the gift. –You may have a pup or a cat even if you are naughty,” he ended, swallowing a smile.

    “Huzza!” cried Clara Vane, jumping up and clapping her hands.

    The Colonel smiled. He was about to ask her to tell Mrs Arkwright he was ready for his breakfast when her face took on a look of immense inspiration and she gasped: “I know! What say I’m good as gold until it ’appens, then can I ’ave a bear instead?”

    “No!” said Lewis in despair. “I thought you understood, Clara Vane? They are not truly tame creatures, not like dogs and cats: not even the dancing ones: they are wild animals underneath, and not to be trusted. Ordinary people cannot keep bears.”

    “But you ain’t h’ordinary, Colonel, sir!”

    “Clara,” he said desperately: “I cannot allow you to have a bear! Please understand! It might bite you! It might attack the little ones!”

    Clara stared at him. “What little ones?”

    Lewis Vane’s jaw sagged. He went very red.

    “Ma ain’t got no little ones!’ she reminded him.

    “No,” he said faintly, swallowing. “Clara, you will not talk me into promising you a bear.”

    “All right,” she agreed sadly. “Does yer want yer breakfast now?”

    “Yes, please.”

    He thought it was over, for she nodded, and went out; but suddenly her head popped back and she said: “Why—”

    “Clara!”

    “No! I only wants to know, why does they call ’em cubs?”

    “Oh. Well, I don’t know. The young of many wild animals are called cubs. Um—fox cubs, and lion cubs.”

    “As well as bear cubs?”

    “Mm.”

    There was a short pause. “Mr Breckinridge, ’e said as ‘ow Mr Saver, ’e were a silly young cub.”

    “Oh. Well, that is where the expression comes from,” he said feebly.

    “I thought as ’ow cub, it meant like a nidjit.”

    He smiled. “I see! No wonder you thought it was an odd word!”

    Clara nodded gratefully.

    “No, it merely means a young creature.”

    “Mr Saver’s a silly young critter,” said Clara Vane thoughtfully to herself, going out.

    “Yes,” said the Colonel weakly, collapsing onto his pillows. “Some are young nidjits and some are old. God, why did I say—”

    But in spite of his protest it was completely clear to him why he had come out with it. The visit to the bears in the company of Lady Benedict and the children had, the mild contretemps over the dinner notwithstanding, been such a pleasant, cosy, domestic sort of outing that an absurd picture of himself, and her, and the children in a state of perfect domestic harmony together had become fixed in his head.

    He frowned, but the picture of himself, and her, and the children, including Clara and a small, fat dog much resembling Miss Chalfont’s pug, all strolling on the sunny greensward below Stamforth Castle, remained with him.

    The which was entirely ridiculous, for she was not— And in any case he certainly did not approve of her frivolity, or— And then, if her fabled fortune were no doubt vastly exaggerated, it could not be completely exaggerated, or damned Pom-Pom would not have been dangling after her. And then, he was too old. And she too young. And too spoiled. And in any case the whole thing was—

    “What?” he said irritably as Poulter’s head poked round the door.

    “It’s ’er brother. In a state. –Blimey!” he gulped as his master turned a very strange colour. “’Ang on, Colonel, sir: I’ll get the brandy!’

    “Don’t be ridiculous,” said the Colonel, hurriedly getting out of bed. “I’m perfectly all right. Where is he?”

    “Giving Clara Vane a ride on ’is ’orse. ’E says can you come, acos ’e’s a-goink dahn to the countryside. –Don’t ask me what about, acos I ain’t been favoured with the facts!”

    “Oh,” said Lewis limply. “I know. –Well, don’t just stand there, man: hand me my boots!”

    Not altogether surprisingly, Nan had not passed a good night, and came down rather late, very heavy-eyed. The breakfast-room was empty. She was sipping coffee, wondering where everyone was—though of course Cherry had no doubt taken Pug out walking with Sir Noël—when the door opened.

    “There you are,” said her brother grimly.

    “Eet ees breakfast time; l am having my— Oh!” she gasped, perceiving who was behind him.

    “Good morning, Lady Benedict,” said Lewis evenly.

    “Good morning, Colonel Vane,” she replied limply, avoiding both his eye and Dom’s.

    “I shall get Miss Smeeth away weethout delay,” Dom announced grimly, “and kindly don’t argue about eet. Sita ees helping her pack as we speak.—Oh, please take a seat, sir.—I have asked Colonel Vane to be here because he has given me some vairy good advice on the subject.”

    “I have spoken to Lady Benedict about Miss Smith,” said the Colonel evenly, sitting down.

    “Yes,” said Nan feebly. “And I am truly sorry, Dom: even though eet ees unlikely that Lord Curwellion could ever realize we are eenvolved, of course we must not take the risk. I—I just deedn’t theenk.”

    “Manifestly,” said the Colonel calmly. “Lady Benedict, if it is not too much bother, may I trouble you for a cup of that coffee?”

    “Oh—yes. I’m sorry, have you breakfasted?”

    “Not yet. The House sat late last night.”

    “Ring the bell,” said Dom with a sigh, suddenly sitting down.

    Nan rang: there was a pause while fresh rolls, preserves and coffee were brought.

    “I am afraid that this scheme might be depriving you of your maid’s services at a time when you need her,” murmured the Colonel.

    Nan stared at him.

    “Er—evidently not,” he murmured.

    “I keep telling heem, you ees not an English lady what cannot get eento a dress unaided!” said Dom impatiently.

    Nan smiled suddenly. “Dom ees right, Colonel; of course Sita must stay een the country weeth Ruth.”

    “That’s that,” said Dom grimly. He drank some coffee, buttered a roll lavishly, and chewed hungrily.

    “So you are all packed?” said Nan feebly.

    Dom nodded, chewing. “Mm.” He swallowed. “Yes, Murchison got onto eet for me first theeng. –Shan’t take heem down, the man ees a bundle of nerves, he would give the game away. Only, before I go,” he said, passing the rolls to the Colonel before himself taking another, “there ees one more theeng to get sorted out.”

    “Eet was not hees FAULT!” she cried loudly.

    Dom buttered his roll carefully. “I could possibly believe that, Lord knows you wind the most of ’em round your leetle finger, eef you weell tell me hees name.”

    “But—” She goggled at the Colonel.

    “Is this about the bears?” he asked her unemotionally.

    Nan nodded, gulping.

    “Then I have to apologize, Mr Baldaya: it was I,” he said simply.

    Dom dropped his buttered roll on his breeches. “Hell! Butter-side down, too, and these ees new! –You, sir?”

    The Colonel handed him a napkin. “Yes. I have no excuse, except that I did not see it could do any harm, and that I cravenly—and evidently mistakenly—believed it need never come to your ears.”

    Dom looked at him weakly. “She took the. brats, and weethout tellin’ their governess what she was up to: how could you not realize the whole household would be buzzing? Not that Mina or Amrita gave the game away, they ees an honourable leetle pair.”

    “Surely you deed not eenterrogate them?” cried Nan hotly.

    Dom gave her a nasty look. “No, I deed not, poor leetle souls! No, but that Gump deed,” he said sourly, dabbing at his breeches.

    “You had best take them off, Dom: I’ll send for Sita.” She rang the bell.

    Greatly to the Colonel’s entertainment, this speech was evidently meant literally: a footman hurried in and she asked for Sita Ayah to be sent in. And Mr Baldaya went very red and made a strangled noise of protest.

    “For the Lord’s sake, Nan!” he said as the man went out. “We has a veesitor!”

    She looked at him in bewilderment. “But he ees only a man, Dom. I am not asking you to take them off een front of a lady.”

    Most regrettably, at this the Colonel collapsed in splutters. “Spare his blushes, Lady Benedict!” he choked as an elderly Indian servant bustled in.

    “Stop being seelly. –Take them off,” she ordered.

    “Nan—”

    Immediately the Indian woman addressed Mr Baldaya in terms that, though the language was strange to him, Colonel Vane had no doubt at all were admonitory.

    Meekly Mr Baldaya removed his boots. “She ees settlin’ us all, y’see,” he said resignedly. “Yes, yes—that’s ENOUGH!” he cried, removing his breeches.

    The Indian servant bowed very low and exited with them, scolding.

    “Well, go on, sir: what happened?” said Dom, sitting down again with a sigh. “Talked you eento the bears, deed she?”

    “Yes,” lied Nan quickly.

    “Thank you, Lady Benedict, but there is no need to protect me. She did not talk me into it: I offered the moment bears were mentioned, for I knew Clara Vane would also enjoy the treat. And on the evidence so far it may be difficult to believe, but I do assure you it would be quite beyond her powers to talk me into anything.”

    Dom looked uncertainly at his red-faced sister. “Ye-es... Theeng ees, sir, she gets round all the fellows. Well, I grant you een thees eenstance even old Kernohan stood out against her. But—”

    “Mm. I was rash and foolish,” said Lewis with a rueful smile. “And I apologize most sincerely, Mr Baldaya: I knew it was flying in the face of your wishes.”

    “Oh, theenk nothin’ of eet, sir! Know she would be safe weeth you!”

    Nan gave an exasperated sigh. “I cannot see why eet was all right of Colonel Vane to do eet, when eet was so wrong of me to weesh eet, or to suggest eet een the company of any other gentleman!”

    Dom looked at her tolerantly and agreed: “No. –Breeng those een here and don’t fuss, man!” he added, as the door opened to admit a distressed-looking elderly man in the respectable garb of a gentleman’s gentleman. Carrying a pair of breeches.

    When Mr Baldaya was once more clad, he poured them all more coffee and handed the rolls again. “Now,” he said, “while I am out of town, Colonel Vane weell keep an eye on you, Madam. And don’t theenk you weell get round heem een the way you does old Kernohan!” he added severely.

    Nan gaped. “But—”

    “What?” replied her brother, glaring.

    “Notheeng,” she said feebly.

    Mrs Lestrange rose politely as Lady Benedict and Colonel Vane were announced, not managing not to look stunned.

    “Oh, well done, Lady Benedict!” cried little Lady Rockingham, springing to her feet with a laugh. “You have succeeded in bringing just the very man we most need!”

    “Why, yes, indeed,” Mrs Lestrange agreed, hurriedly pulling herself together.

    Nan smiled limply. The more so as Colonel Vane was looking at all the Whig ladies assembled in Mrs Lestrange’s salon this afternoon with a very sardonic expression indeed on his dark countenance.

    “I had no notion you were so interested in orphanages,” he drawled as the barouche drove them back to Mr Urqhart’s house.

    “You know perfectly well I went because Lady Rockingham talked me eento eet!” she flashed.

    “Well, yes. But have our good Whig ladies convinced you your charity is sorely needed?”

    Nan chewed on her lip. “I suppose I can give them an hundred guineas or so, whenever they ask. But I cannot commit myself to anytheeng more, I have the children to theenk of. And—and though most of my first husband’s money came to me, eet—eet ees not mine by right.”

    “No?”

    “No, for eef he had known he was not guh-going to live vairy long, he would have tied eet up so as eet came to Johnny.”

    “You feel you must hold it in trust for him?” he murmured.

    She nodded.

    “Praiseworthy,” he said neutrally.

    Nan looked at him sideways. His dark face was unreadable.

    “And the rest—” She broke off.

    “Yes?” he said politely.

    She licked her lips. “I—I weesh to see what Dom wants to do before I—I commit myself.”

    “I see.”

    “I suppose,” said Nan through trembling lips, “that because you do not own anytheeng, you theenk eet a worthless ambition, to weesh to buy a country estate!”

    “Er—not entirely,” said Lewis, hoping he didn’t sound as limp as he felt. Could she not know he was Uncle Peter’s heir? Well—there was no reason why she should...

    “But I theenk Dom would like eet. And the children were so happy at Blythe Hollow. –That was my second husband’s home.”

    “Mm: Kent, I think?”

    She nodded silently.

    After a moment he said: “So Mr Baldaya does not intention settling in Portugal?”

    “I don’t know,” said Nan on a doleful note.

    Lewis hesitated, but found himself unable to refrain from asking: “If he does, shall you accompany him?”

    “I don’t know.”

    He found he was not able, for whatever reason, to pursue the topic.

    Mrs Quarmby-Vine’s card party. There had already been innumerable hands of this, that, and the other. With innumerable gentlemen. Not to mention dicing, in despite of—or perhaps because of—Mrs Urqhart’s warning that dicing weren’t nice.

    “Bonjour, Altesse,” said Colonel Vane unemotionally.

    Lady Benedict looked up at him defiantly. “Monsieur and I were just about to play a hand of piquet.”

    “I think not,” he said evenly. “Perhaps you are not aware, sir, that Lady Benedict’s brother has gone out of town, and has asked me to act as his deputy until his return.”

    Flushed but smiling nicely, Henri-Louis rose immediately. “Pray forgive me, then, Colonel Vane. Of course we shall not play, if you do not care for it.”

    “But Monsieur, Dom would let me play piquet weeth you!” she cried.

    “But then, Dom is not here,” he said ruefully. “I shall take my leave, then: bonsoir, chère madame; bonsoir, Colonel.”

    There was a little silence as he left them.

    “I must say, he has wonderful manners,” said Nan limply.

    “The which do not make up for his being a young idiot,” he returned, unmoved, sitting down in his place. “I shall play piquet with you, if you wish it. For the same stakes.”

    “No!” she said, going very red.

    He shuffled the cards. “I am generally reckoned an excellent player, Lady Benedict: do not fear I shall lose a fortune which I do not possess.”

    “No; um…”

    The cards slipped evenly from one hand to the other. He looked up. “What am I about to lose, then? Half a kingdom which I do not possess?”

    After a dazed moment, Nan choked.

    “Don’t repeat that, will you?” he said with a twinkle in his  eye. “For he is a decent enough young idiot, within his lights. Let me see: what the Devil does he have that could be worth anything to you?”

    Nan bit her lip, and waited.

    “God; not the damned high-perch phaeton?” he croaked.

    “No!” she said vigorously. “I may be seelly, but I do not weesh to set all London by the ears!”

    “No,” he acknowledged drily. “I think I give in, then. What was it?”

    “Eet was nothing he possesses, as such.”

    “Oh, ho! You made him promise to take you somewhere damned ineligible!”

    She bit her lip, but nodded.

    “Can’t be the bears,” said the Colonel airily. “Another damned idiot has already done that. Wait: a public hanging?”

    “No!” she gasped, shuddering. “Ugh!”

    “I’m glad to know you have that much decent feeling. Public something, though? Yes. –Give me a clue!” he demanded, suddenly laughing.

    Unaccountably Nan’s heart fluttered in her breast. Her cheeks flushed brightly: she smiled into his eyes and said gaily: “Eet starts weeth an M, sir!”

    “A public masquerade,” he groaned.

    “Mm!” she squeaked, nodding and laughing.

    “How the Devil did you imagine the pair of you would get away with that?”

    “I was going to leave eet up to hees eengenuity, sir,” she said dulcetly.

    The Colonel smiled, and reshuffled. “Cut.”

    Nan cut, looking at him warily.

    “So what I am about to win?” he said mildly.

    She licked her lips, but peeped at him naughtily.

    “And just by the by: don’t play off those tricks on me.”

    Reddening crossly, she said: “Eet was a lock of hair, but eef you do not care for my treecks, as you call them, then you weell not weesh to play for eet!”

    “On the contrary. –My deal, I think?”

    “Yes,” said Nan limply. Did he mean it? And—and what, precisely, did he mean?

    She lost heavily.

    The Colonel gathered up the cards. “What imbecile led you to believe you could play piquet, Lady Benedict?’

    “But I—”

    He eyed her mockingly.

    “I often used to beat Hugo,” she faltered.

    He eyed her mockingly.

    “And—and I have played tuh-twice weeth General Sir Francis Kernohan, and beaten heem easily. And—and I always buh-beat my Uncle, General Baldaya...”

    He eyed her mockingly.

    “Oh!” cried Nan, her hands going to her cheeks. “Do you mean to eemply they were all humoureeng me?’

    “It is not inconceivable.”

    “Eet ees too much!”

    “Say rather, expectable.” The cards slipped easily from hand to hand. “You owe me a forfeit, I think.”

    She gulped, and nodded.

    “Now, should I claim it, as is my right as your opponent, or should my rôle as deputy brother and shall we say, temporary guardian, not to say mentor,” he said, eyeing her drily, “suggest to me that I take myself out into the passage and give myself a severe dressing down?”

    “You are eempossible!” said Nan, glaring.

    “But I am on the horns of a dilemma, and am waiting for you to help me resolve it,” he said plaintively.

    She got up, looking grim. “Eef I had lost to le petit Monsieur I should have paid eet: there ees no difference. Come aside eento that leetle alcove.”

    Shoulders shaking slightly, he let her lead the way to a little alcove.

    “For Heaven’s sake draw the curtain!” she said sharply.

    He drew the curtain. “I feel sure you have a pair of scissors in your reticule, for just such a purpose.”

    Scowling, Nan produced a small pair of scissors. “Do not dare to sneep one from the front!” she warned.

    “Would you have extended also this privilege to le petit Monsieur?” he wondered, taking the scissors.

    “Yes, eet was a part of the bet,” she said grimly.

    Smiling, Lewis found a likely-looking curl. He snipped. He was not unaware that Lady Benedict had turned bright red. Would she have also done that if he had been le petit Monsieur?

    “Delightfully scented,” he said, holding it to his nose.

    Nan looked at it in horror. “Where deed that come from?” she hissed.

    “Off your delightful head,” replied Lewis. He drew it out carefully between finger and thumb, smiling.

    Nan felt the back of her bunch of curls gingerly.

    “It don’t show,” he murmured.

    “But Bapsee weell be sure to notice eet, why deed you take so much?” she hissed.

    “Bapsee?”

    “Mrs Urqhart’s maid. She ees a genius weeth hair.”

    “A genius with hair who will report you to her mistress,” he murmured. Producing his pocketbook, he laid the curl in it carefully.

    “Yes,” she said, glaring.

    “In my role as mentor I can only hope this has taught you a lesson,” he noted calmly.

    “You said you deed not weesh to be my mentor!” she flashed.

    “True. Mr Baldaya has put both of us in an awkward position, has he not?” he murmured wryly.

    She went very red and stared at the floor. “Possibly.”

    “The more so because, were I not in the position of mentor, I should be tempted in my rôle as victor, to—er—”

    “To what?” she said, lifting her chin defiantly.

    Lewis put a hand gently under the chin. “I am very sure you can guess,” he murmured.

    She wrenched herself away and flung out of the alcove.

    Lewis followed very slowly.

    “Lumme,” gulped Mrs Urqhart. “That were torrid, whatever it were! Well, he’s one as has got ‘still waters’ writ all over ’im, that’s true enough. –Hey?” she said, jumping, as General Baldaya came up to her, beaming, and bowing very low. “Faro? Lawks, you ain’t ’alf darin’, General! Well, why not? If so be as Mrs Quarmby-Vine is a-doin’ of it!”

    They went off arm-in-arm to the faro table, where Mrs Urqhart, to judge by the shrieks and fan-bashings, became very rapidly absorbed. She was not, however, unaware that Nan had sat down to a not-very-serious game of whist with young Captain Dewesbury, young Captain Lord Vyvyan Gratton-Gordon and Major-General Sir Percy Wayneflete. She did not fool herself for an instant that the presence of a senior officer was in any way restraining the two gallant hussars. Nor did she fail to notice that Colonel Vane was merely making a pretence at dicing, and that his hard grey eyes were continually on Nan.

    “Colonel Vane! Such an un-ex-pected pleasure!” cooed the Fürstin von Maltzahn-Dressen, that enchanting little break in the husky voice well to the fore.

    Lewis had actually received an invitation to her reception. He was aware that Fanny von Maltzahn-Dressen must be aware of his expectations. He merely bowed low over her hand.

    Fanny gave a little trill of laughter but let them pass on into the salon.

    They had scarce taken three steps when Lady Benedict’s fingers dug fiercely into Lewis’s arm. He winced.

    “I thought Pom-Pom had gone back to the Continent!” she hissed.

    Lewis followed her gaze. “Goodness, he is merely wearing a gold waistcoat: cannot consider his sister-in-law’s reception a grand occasion, then.”

    “Ssh! Thees ees dreadful! What shall we do?”

    “Smile. It should be relatively easy for you, buoyed up as you must be by the consciousness that you are the prettiest woman in the room,” he replied calmly.

    At any other time this speech would probably have enraged Nan. As it was, she shrank against his side.

    Lewis felt the movement and looked down at her in astonishment.

    “Why deed you let me come?” she said faintly.

    “It would not have done to refuse, since the Fürstin had favoured you with an invitation; it must, you know, be an official signal that the family is willing to let bygones be bygones,” he murmured.

    Nan licked her lips nervously.

    Suddenly Lewis covered the hand that lay on his arm with his free one. “I shall be very, very good: is that what you are afraid of?” he murmured.

    She nodded mutely.

    Lewis squeezed her hand hard. He was swept by a wave of feeling so strong that he had much ado not to close his eyes and simply surrender to it. “If you cannot smile, and I don’t blame you if you cannot manage it, just bow slightly. –Watch me.”

    Nan fastened her eyes obediently on his face.

    After a moment’s steady gazing across the room the Colonel inclined his head.

    Fearfully Nan followed his gaze and did likewise.

    Pom-Pom had his quizzing glass raised. He bowed very, very slightly.

    “There!” said Lewis as the Prince turned away to address a remark to his companions. “Was that so very dreadful ?”

    “Yes,” she said frankly, shuddering against his arm.

    Involuntarily Lewis reflected that he could put up with any number of similar dreadful encounters, if that were her reaction to ’em! “Nonsense,” he said lightly. “Now: we shall steady our nerves with a glass of something, chat to one or two acquaintances on unexceptionable topics, and then liberate Mrs Urqhart and the girls from the little red-headed Princess, and get off to the Embassy ball. All right?”

    “Yes,” said Nan, squeezing his arm and smiling at him. “Thank you vairy much, Colonel!”

    The ballroom of the French Embassy was a whirl of mingled colours in the waltz. Lady Benedict looked up into the smiling face of His Grace the Duke of Wellington and gave a delighted trill of laughter. “Duke! How can you be so naughty!” His Grace was observed to preen himself.

    Across the room, Lady Benedict’s escort swallowed a sigh.

    “Didn’t expect it to be otherwise, did you?” muttered Mrs Urqhart.

    “Did I?” replied Lewis coolly.

    Mrs Urqhart eyed him sardonically, but refrained.

    ... “Is this one all right, Mrs Urqhart?” he hissed.

    “Mm? Oh, Lor’, yes, this is Miss Tarry’s clergyman!”

    Lewis permitted the blushing Miss Tarry to dance with Mr Llewellyn-Jones.

    ... “This one?” he hissed.

    Mrs Urqhart yawned widely, and patted her mouth with her immense fan of scarlet ostrich plumes. “Hey?”

    Lewis glared at her. “This one?”

    “Uh—dunno.”

    He had time for another quick glare before the smiling, brown-haired, very young man came up and bowed low. They did not know him, but he believed he could claim near acquaintanceship, through Noël Amory! And his Uncle Hartlepool would speak for him.

    Mrs Urqhart was now bolt upright, her eyes bulging from her florid countenance. Lewis concluded that this one was not all right. “Then I suggest you request your uncle to present you,” he said coldly.

    Very red, the young gentleman stammered an apology and retired precipitately.

    “Colonel, that cheeky young gent is—uh—W!” hissed Mrs Urqhart.

    “God,” he muttered.

    “My sentiments entire. –If you’re lookin’ for ’er,” she said drily, as he peered: “she’s gorn into that little alcove over there with ’Is Grace. And don’t tell me I could have stopped him, Colonel, ’cos even Boney himself couldn’t stop him!”

    “In that case perhaps you should address me as Nemesis, ma’am, rather than as Napoleon.” He got up and headed for the alcove.

    As he reached it the Duke came out, smirking, with Lady Benedict on his arm and one of Lady Benedict’s white flowers in his buttonhole. Lewis was aware, because Lady Benedict’s household had taken care that he should be aware, that the flowers were from His Grace of Wellington in the first place. Only Susan had been tender-hearted enough to explain that Nan could not possibly have carried any other colour with that green dress.

    Lewis bowed. “Good evening, sir. Lady Benedict, I am charged to return you to your careful duenna.”

    She giggled, smiled up at the Duke, and said: “Eet was a lovely dance, Duke!’

    “Weren’t it, ma’am? Eternal slave!” said the Duke, laughing, and laying a hand on his heart with an exaggerated bow. “’Evening, Vane,” he added, departing, as Lady Benedict gave another giggle.

    Lewis took her elbow in an ungentle grip. “Did you let him kiss you for that damned flower?”

    “Eet was just a peck, sir: you do not understand the etiquette of these theengs!” she said with a very naughty giggle indeed.

    “No, I do not: kindly enlighten me,” he said coldly.

    “They were hees flowers.”

    “Kindly cease enlightening me,” said Lewis coldly.

    Giggling, Nan allowed herself to be led back to Mrs Urqhart.

    ... Henri-Louis hurried up, smiling. “Lady Benedict! At last!”

    “Oh, Prince! Never tell us you have deserted Mme l’Ambassadrice’s reception line! That ees vairy, vairy naughty!”

    “No, no, they will manage without me, at this stage, you know! Now, may I beg you most humbly, on bended knee, indeed, to honour me by accepting my escort into supper later?”

    “Do not dare to go down on bended knee een the ballroom, you naughty boy!” she gasped.

    “Then you will?” he said eagerly, laying a hand to his heart.

    “You know perfectly well that ees eempossible! I am vairy sure that Mme l’Ambassadrice has decided many weeks een advance which lady you must take eento supper, and that eet ees not me.”

    “But I do not care for any other ladies! Well, if not the supper, then this next waltz?”

    “But I theenk I have promeesed eet to— Well, eef you promeese to be vairy, vairy good during eet and not to breathe another word about the supper? Promeese?”

    He promised, he promised, what else. She led him off into the set. Lewis just sat back and sighed.

    ... “You ain’t ushe’ huh ri’ tactigsh,” said Mrs Urqhart indistinctly over the supper.

    “I beg your pardon?” returned Lewis feebly.

    Mrs Urqhart swallowed noisily. “Wrong tactics, Colonel. -Hey, Noël?” she added.

    “What: with the Portuguese Widow?” drawled Sir Noël maliciously. “Oh, Lor’, yes. You ain’t grasped it at all, Vane.”

    “Do not be horrid,” said Cherry, looking at the Colonel’s face.

    “She don’t need the fatherly type: she’s got one of them,” explained Noël carefully. He nodded at the table where Lady Benedict was being looked after in a fatherly way by General Sir Francis Kernohan, what time Commander Sir Arthur Jerningham, Colonel Sir Gerald Knighton and Captain Quarmby-Vine entertained her in less fatherly ways. Though it was true they were all old enough to be her father.

    “It would appear she has a quiverful of them,” Colonel Vane returned acidly.

    Noël’s sherry-coloured eyes sparkled but he said dulcetly: “Quite.”

    “Got younger ones, too,” noted Mrs Urqhart, glancing at the large table where amidst a glitter of orders and uniforms, Henri-Louis’s face, polite as ever but hardly enthusiastic, could be glimpsed. “—Pass us that dish of savouries, Noël, deary, if it be goin’ beggin’.”

    “Go on,” said Lewis languidly. “So far we’ve ascertained that I have used the wrong tactics, that Lady Benedict is plentifully supplied with the fatherly type, and that she is also supplied with the young and callow. What have the last two points to do with tactics, if that is not asking too much?’

    Mrs Urqhart shorted richly.

    “I have to agree with Aunt Betsy,” said Noël apologetically. “Everything, of course, Colonel. All of those other fellows, older or younger, have managed to get a dance with her.” His eyes lingered on His Grace of Wellington chatting amiably to Mme l’Ambassadrice with Lady Benedict’s white flower in his buttonhole. “At the least.”

    “By being too old or too young for her, y’mean?” he said nastily.

    Noël raised his eyebrows slightly. “I would say those were contributing factors, yes; but mainly by showing they are interested, Colonel.”

    Lewis’s fists clenched under the table, but he said steadily enough: “Perhaps you have not remarked that none of them is in the unfortunate position of deputy guardian to her Ladyship this evening?”

    Noel smiled slightly. “That could make it difficult for all but a master tactician, of course, sir.”

    “Sir Noël, stop it,” said Cherry in a low voice.

    He smiled at her. “I think I have stopped. But would you not agree that if a gentleman does not at least ask a lady to dance, at a ball, she must assume he is not interested?”

    “Um—well, yes,” said Cherry, biting her lip. “One would.”

    “Thank you, Miss Chalfont,” said Lewis evenly. “There appears to be a consensus, then. –Pray excuse me.” He rose, bowed generally to the table, and went out.

    “Got the pip. Know’sh we ish right,” discerned Mrs Urqhart somewhat indistinctly through the last savoury.

    The following morning, on Colonel Vane’s being shown into the small sitting-room, the elderly lady, smothering a yawn, greeted him with: “Nan will be down in a minute. Going to her see her lawyer. Won’t need me, will you?”

    “No, I believe I can manage.”

    Mrs Urqhart looked at him doubtfully but for one reason or another did not work up the courage to tell him to make a push to admire Nan’s new walking dress.

    It was very smart indeed: green and white vertical stripes, the stripes cunningly used horizontally in the flounce at the hem. More of the same motif appeared on the bonnet. Lewis handed her into the barouche before he remarked on it. Then he said, sitting beside her: “In England wasps are generally yellow striped, Lady Benedict.”

    Her lips tightened: she began a silent fight with her parasol.

    “Let me,” he said with the ghost of a laugh.

    “No. I can— Ow!” she gasped.

    He took it off her. “The catch is just stiff, I think. New, is it?”

    As it was also green and white stripes, Nan was reduced to a glare.

    He got it up without trouble and handed it to her. “I am completely at your service, should you wish to lower it at any time.”

    Nan glared at the street. After some time she said tightly: “Eef you do not care for stripes, why do you not simply say so?’

    “Very well. I do not care for those broad stripes on a little lady like yourself.”

    “I am not that leetle!” she snapped, sitting up very straight.

    Suddenly Lewis put his hand over hers where it lay on the green-striped lap. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice.

    Nan gulped and was incapable of speech.

    “Why did you refuse me that dance last night?” he asked quietly.

    “I duh-don’t know!” she stuttered. caught quite off-guard.

    “Do you care for le petit Monsieur?” he said harshly.

    “No! He ees just a boy!” she replied in amazement. “I thought Dom told you—”

    “Dom told me what you told him.”

    “Eet’s the truth,” she said faintly.

    “Mm.”

    They were silent. Lewis did not release her hand.

    After quite some time he said: “It is Sussex you are going to for the summer, I think?”

    “What? Oh. Yes,” she said with an effort. “Mr Sotheby says eet ees on the coast. Near to a place called... Stan-Stanforth. Do you know eet?”

    “Er—yes. You mean Stamforth,” said Lewis, biting his lip. He looked at her doubtfully. She was staring straight ahead.

    “Miss Gump says there ees a castle,” she said dully.

    “Oh—yes. Er—who is Miss Gump?”

    “She ees Amrita’s and Mina’s governess, and she ees the sort of female who delights to trail around ruins, the colder and more uncomfortable the better, reading beets out of the guidebook to one,” she said dully.

    “Give her a holiday,” he said instantly.

    She looked up, startled, and smiled. “I weesh I had thought of eet! But no, eet ees too late, she ees so looking forward to eet.”

    “Tactical error. –I wish to tell you something, but I do not wish you to gain the wrong impression.”

    “Yes?” she said faintly.

    “Er—I do not know if you might have heard that I have an elderly uncle, who is generally reckoned to be on his deathbed.”

    “No!” said Nan, very startled. “I am tairribly sorry, Colonel. Oh, dear: eef I am keeping you een London when you should be weeth heem—”

    “No. He don’t— Well, it is not quite true that he don’t like me, I suppose,” he said with a faint shrug. “His own son died, and he resents the fact that I am still alive. Does that sound mad?”

    “No, eet sounds vairy human,” she said softly.

    “Y— Yes,” said Lewis, startled. “Um, well, anyway, the doctors tell us it cannot be long now, and then, I suppose, the whole family will be in mourning for a year.”

    “Yes,” said Nan with a little sigh.

    “I— Well, that is it. I shall be in my blacks for a year.” He swallowed.

    “Yes. But eet weell not prevent you taking your seat, weell eet?”

    “Whuh-what?” he stumbled.

    “I do know you are a Member of Parliament,” she said, smiling at him.

    “Oh,” he said limply.

    “Eet ees worse for a woman, for she has no occupation, but a man may steell carry on weeth hees.”

    “Mm. It will not prevent my carrying on my occupation: no.”

    Nan looked up at him doubtfully. “Thank you for telling me, sir. And—and I am vairy sorry about eet. I do not have fixed plans, but—but I suppose Daphne weell weesh for a Season... We shall hire a house, I theenk. I shall take care not to eenvite you to any frivolous parties; only, eef—eef you should care to come to us for the occasional small family dinner, we should be vairy glad.”

    “You don’t understand...” He released her hand and looked away from her. frowning.

    “Ees eet far away?” the soft, low voice said anxiously. “Ees that what you are trying to tell me?”

    “Uh—no.” He swallowed. “Only Sussex.”

    “So—so shall we perhaps see you over the summer?” she said timidly. “Ees eet anywhere near to thees—um—Stamforth place?”

    Lewis swallowed again. “Not far. –Look, you don’t understand!” he said loudly.

    Nan looked up at him in bewilderment. “No, I don’t theenk I do. What ees troubling you?”

    “I am trying to indicate to you the bleakness of the existence that I am contemplating for the next year,” he said tightly. “I shall not be making any great changes in my circumstances. I shall live in Uncle Peter’s house, but that is about the sum of it. Everything he owns has been neglected for years, and what monies there will be will have to go to repairs.”

    She nodded silently.

    “I have no right to say this to you,” he said in a low voice. “I do not particularly wish to spend a year alone in my blacks.”

    “No-o…” Suddenly Nan went very red. “I see. But of course Mrs Arkwright weell go weeth you,” she said in a strangled voice. “You do not need to fear to say such a theeng to me, Colonel, for I am not at all a conventionally-minded person, and I shall not condemn you.”

    “Oh, good God,” said Lewis limply. He passed his hand over his face. “I suppose I should not have let you labour under a misapprehension. I own I was doing it to test your mettle, and I beg your pardon.”

    Nan looked at him blankly.

    “Clara Vane Arkwright is not my child,” he said baldly. “You may ask her how she got her name, if you wish, and she will tell you quite readily, for she is proud of the fact. –I delivered her, Lady Benedict,” he said gently as she just stared. “It was the most frightful night, blowing a gale, the streets flooded, slates off the roofs, and a chimney down further up the street. The poor mother went into labour unexpectedly, and though we sent Poulter for the midwife, she did not reach us in time. Mrs Minns from next-door had three children down with the croup, and Mrs Porter was nursing her husband through an inflammation of the lungs. There was no-one in the house but myself and Mr Breckinridge, and he had never borned so much as a litter of pups before. But I was quite familiar with horses, dogs and cows. And fortunately it was not a difficult birth. I could scarcely refuse when Mrs Arkwright insisted on naming her after me. And besides, until this moment I have never given a damn if people assumed she was mine.”

    “I see,” said Nan limply.

    “Er—I realise that the fact that I delivered her does not prove she is not my own child—”

    “I theenk she ees even more your own than eef you were the natural father!” she cried. “Eet was vairy fine of you, sir!”

    “I could do no less.”

    “Eet sounds as eef Mr Breckinridge did considerably less,” she said shrewdly.

    Lewis shrugged a little.

    Nan was silent. She glanced up at him uncertainly.

    “Yes, I was aware that you must think it,” he said evenly.

    “Mm.”

    “And I most sincerely beg your pardon for being so patronising,” he said, scowling, “as to test you on such a matter. Or, indeed, at all.”

    She looked at him dubiously.

    “Do you not see that to do so was to—to set you, a priori, on a level somehow lower than myself? Whether morally, or mentally, or what, I am not sure.”

    “Yes. At least eet was not as stupeed or eensulting as some of the tests I have put gentlemen through,’’ she said thoughtfully.

    Lewis’s jaw dropped.

    “For example, the whole business of the bears—” Nan broke off.

    “Do I conclude that I passed?”

    “Well, yes,” she owned.

    “I’m glad of that,” he said, grinning.

    “But you must own that eet was entirely eensulting!” she cried.

    “Oh, entirely, mm. But I concede the temptation.”

    “Yes. So vairy many people whom one meets are—” She stopped hurriedly.

    “—damned stupid,” finished Lewis Vane calmly. “Yes. It’s hard not to assume the whole of mankind is so, is it not?”

    They were silent. Lewis stared unseeingly at the busy streets. He had started to speak to her about the year’s mourning he had to look forward to in the near future without really having sorted out what he wished to say. Or how much he meant her to read into his words. His mind had been filled with the picture of that year’s penny-pinching existence at Stamforth Castle: to such an extent that he had wished her to see it, also, and to understand that he could scarcely ask a lady to share it; and also to understand that the prospect of remaining engaged for over a year, should any lady consent, was damned bleak, too... Something like that. God knew how he had expected her to react, though. But on second thoughts, it was impossible to hint at any of this without giving an entirely false impression.

    “Here we are,” said Nan with an effort.

    “What? Oh,” he said as the carriage drew up. “Yes.” He got out and handed her down politely.

    “I am afraid I have a lot of dull business to transact,” she said apologetically. “Eef you would care to take the carriage on—?”

    “No, I’ll wait for you.”

    “Um… Een that case, since I weesh to ask Mr Quigley about hees enquiries,” she said with a cautious glance at the footman, “perhaps you would care to step een?”

    He bowed and offered her his arm.

    Apparently Mr Quigley was very well aware that Dom had told Colonel Vane the whole. Lewis considerately refrained, after one glance, from looking at Lady Benedict’s astounded face.

    “Yes,” she said with an effort. “Well, that ees good, we do not need to waste time on explanations. So deed your message to Lord Curwellion bear fruit, Mr Quigley?”

    The proper lawyer’s eyes met Lewis’s for an instant.

    “Tried to choke it out of you, did he?” said that gentleman sympathetically.

    Swallowing, Mr Quigley replied: “His Lordship saw fit to threaten me: yes.”

    “Oh, no!” cried Nan distressfully. “We had no idea that would result, dear Mr Quigley, or we would never have asked you to write the letter!”

    “I trust you didn’t reveal the name of your principal?” said Lewis drily over Mr Quigley’s reassurances.

    “Of course he deed not!” she cried indignantly.

    “Thank you, Lady Benedict. No, I did not, sir,” he said stiffly.

    “Deed he say whether he would accept our offer?” ventured Nan.

    Wincing, the lawyer replied: “I think the only way to describe his reaction, Lady Benedict, is to say he threw it back in our faces.”

    Abruptly Lewis rose and went over to the window that overlooked the street.

    “There was a fellow there for two days, sir, but we have not seen him more latterly,” said the lawyer on a grim note.

    Nan gulped.

    “I would have warned you, Lady Benedict, had I not believed the danger to be past,” the lawyer added hurriedly.

    “It is either past,” noted the Colonel drily, peering cautiously up and down the    street, “or Curwellion has found a fellow with better skills at concealment.”

    “Do not teaze,” she commanded sternly.

    Lewis smiled a little but did not say he was not entirely teazing. At all events, the street appeared quite empty and innocent.

    “We had best offer the Prince a considerable sum to forget about eet,” she decided briskly.

    Mr Quigley looked dubiously at the Colonel.

    Lewis came back to his chair. “Before I ask what sum you propose throwing in Pom-Pom’s direction, Lady Benedict—”

    “Eet weell be my money, not Dom’s!”

    “I did not ask you that,” he returned placidly. “I was about to say, I think we should ask ourselves whether it is necessary to buy the Prince off? Given that his proposed bride is safe from his clutches.”

    “Eef Lord Curwellion theenks he has no hope of a husband for her who weell enter eento a plot to share her inheritance, he weell be so much the less eager to get her back!” she cried.

    “Possibly. What do you think, Mr Quigley?”

    “We cannot know that offering the Prince a bribe would have any effect whatsoever on his Lordship’s course of action,” said the lawyer evenly.

    “Exactly. And if he was furious when he came to see you, I doubt that Pom-Pom’s withdrawal will make him less so. I think it would be money thrown away,” said Lewis firmly.

    “The Colonel is in the right of it, Lady Benedict,” the lawyer agreed anxiously.

    She frowned over it. “Yes,” she said, at last. “I see. But—but what shall we do next?”

    There was dead silence in the lawyer’s warm, dark-panelled little office.

    Eventually Lewis said slowly: “Give it time. At least the girl is safe for a while. When Major Norrington returns to England, he can offer to take over her guardianship, and at that stage we may renew the offer to Curwellion.” He shrugged a little. “Sweeten the pill, as it were. Possibly he may have calmed down sufficiently by then to swallow it.”

    “Yes,” said Nan with a sigh. “But weell the Major agree, sir?”

    “Oh, Heavens, yes!” said Lewis with a little laugh. “He is completely good-natured, not to say, the least conventional creature walking!”

    “Um, ye-es... He does not sound like the kind of man who would weesh to be tied down by family responsibilities,” she said shrewdly.

    “Uh—I suppose his circumstances have not offered him any such responsibilities. But he will not shirk them, I do assure you, ma’am. He was an excellent and responsible officer.”

    She looked dubious, but nodded.

    They left it at that, perforce. Though Mr Quigley, with an odd note in his voice that Lewis did not fancy he was imagining, did say: “I believe the house you have taken for the summer is quite near to Stamforth Castle, Lady Benedict?”

    The Colonel waited in the outer office while Nan transacted her other business. He would have preferred the barouche, but on second thoughts decided it would be a tactical error to display himself for any length of time outside Mr Quigley’s chambers, just in case Curwellion was having the place watched.

    When she emerged from the inner sanctum he rose and said quietly: “I should just like a word, if I may, Mr Quigley.”

    “Of course, sir. If you will excuse us, Lady Benedict?” Mr Quigley bowed him into the office, both gentlemen manfully ignoring the dubious expression that had appeared on her Ladyship’s face.

    “I collect you know I am my uncle’s heir?” said the Colonel baldly.

    “Certainly, Colonel Vane,” he said, bowing.

    Lewis took a deep breath. “I shall never be a rich man.”

    “The Vane properties are, however, extensive,” he murmured.

    “The country properties are mortgaged to the hilt and in shockingly bad heart, and the bulk of the city real estate is appalling slums which I intention tearing down and rebuilding as soon as I have the right to do so,” said Lewis coldly.

    Mr Quigley merely bowed again.

    “I do not think she knows of my relationship to the head of the family,” he said abruptly.

    “Indeed, sir? I do not think that Mr Baldaya knows, either,” he  murmured.

    Lewis swallowed.

    “They will not hear of it from me, unless you authorize it, sir.”

    He swallowed again. “Thank you, Mr Quigley “

    “Not at all, sir.” Bowing, Mr Quigley showed him out.

    Lady Benedict took her seat in the box, smiling. General Sir Francis Kernohan, having tenderly divested her of her cloak, took the seat at her right hand. General Baldaya, tenderly ushering Mrs Urqhart to her place, took the seat next hers. Taking a deep breath, Colonel Vane sat down behind the four. Ignoring the fact that in a box on the other side of the circle Sir Noël Amory’s handsome shoulders might have been observed to be shaking helplessly.

    Had anyone believed that the fashionables attended the opera for the music, that night would have disabused them of the notion.

    Commander Sir Arthur Jerningham was first to show his colours. He bowed deeply over Lady Benedict’s hand. “I was persuaded it must be yourself, Lady Benedict. I had not dared to hope—”

    “Them opera-glasses what you was watchin’ our box with throughout the first act must have helped, some,” noted Mrs Urqhart airily.

    The gallant Commander Sir Arthur was so busy expressing his intense gratification at Lady Benedict’s honouring his trifling posy this evening by condescending to carry it in her very own hand—words to that effect—that he appeared not even to hear this. And very possibly did not.

    Lieutenant-Commander Haydock hove into sight not far behind Sir Arthur. Giggling, Lady Benedict consented to take a turn on his arm. If he was sure it would truly console him for her not having carried his flowers this evening?

    “He’s sure,” noted Mrs Urqhart with terrifying dryness.

    Lewis managed to raise a pale smile.

    “Look ’oo’s here,” said the old lady, still horrifyingly dry, on the pair’s return.

    Oh, it was Major-General Cadwallader! But they had not expected to see him in London, how truly delightful! No, no, but of course he must join them in their box! And stay: if he had nothing planned, tomorrow they intended a picknick while the weather held—

    Surprisingly, the Major-General had nothing planned.

    “Eight,” noted Sir Noël neutrally, lying back at his ease on the grass. Or rather, on a rug: the picknick was not so rustic as all that.

    Colonel Vane drew a deep breath.

    “Though whether Vyv Gratton-Gordon be here on his own account or merely to support Henri-Louis, is perhaps a moot point,” he murmured. “Though one must not forget all them posies. No, I feel we may count Vyv, after all! –Don’t you think?”

    Colonel Vane did not reply.

    “That fellow, Cadwallader, must in some sense be said to have the advantage of all them other fellows,” the baronet mused. “For she has known him since she was in Bath, and he stuck by her, y’know, when the cats was shunning her.”

    Colonel Vane studiously ignored him.

    “Though he don’t have old Kernohan’s looks,” he mused.

    The Colonel threw a stick for Pug.

    “Arthur Jerningham, of course, has a snug little place in Derbyshire,” Noël mused. “Personally I’d be inclined to discount young Cecil Jerningham,” he noted. “Not much go in him. Decent fellow, though. And we must not forget she has known him longer than anyone in England!”

    Colonel Vane stared out grimly across the grassy slope of the charmingly rural picknick spot.

    “Haydock ain’t a bad-lookin’ fellow, neither,” mused Sir Noel. “Has considerable charm, too: ever remarked it? Younger than Kernohan: that must give him an edge, would you not say? On the other hand, Major-General Sir Percy is the head of the Wayneflete family. And Warwickshire is a delightful county. Ever seen Wayneflete Manor, Colonel? Snug little place, y’know. Newish, out of course. Nothin’ of the ruin about it. Remarkably free of—”

    Colonel Vane rose abruptly.

    “—draughts,” murmured Noël, as he strode off.

    Noël lay back on his elbow and looked lazily round the charming, if, some might have said, somewhat crowded picknick spot at Richmond. Whether all eight of the fellows that Lady Benedict had invited to accompany her thither had been aware of the invitations issued to the other seven was a moot point, he rather suspected! They were, however, putting a good face on it and were eagerly cooperating in unpacking picknick baskets, uncorking bottles, holding parasols for the younger ladies while they admired the view, and so forth. All eight of ’em.

    He watched under his lashes, the sherry-coloured eyes sparkling maliciously, as Lewis Vane attempted to wrench the stick back off the ecstatic Pug Chalfont, who was evidently under the impression—mistaken, in Noël’s considered opinion—that the Colonel wished to play.

    “Make that nine,” he concluded drily.

    The Gratton-Gordon ball. The florid-faced Captain Quarmby-Vine, R.N., was observed to beam all over the said face and kiss Lady Benedict’s hand with tremendous enthusiasm. Across the room, Colonel Vane swallowed a sigh.

    “Them pink roses is his,” said Mrs Urqhart informatively.

    “Indeed?” he replied coldly.

    “Goes well with that pale pink satin thing o’ hers, don’t they?”’

    “Indeed,” he agreed coldly.

    The ball wore on. A smiling Henri-Louis was seen to bow low and murmur something over Lady Benedict’s hand. She was seen to laugh, shake her head very much, and make some reply that evidently caused the Prince tremendous gratification. At all events, he kissed the hand with far more enthusiasm than was seemly or desirable. Across the room, Colonel Vane drew a deep breath.

    Mrs Urqhart noted unemotionally: “Thought you was asked, specific, not to let her encourage that young gent?”

    The Colonel rose. “That would appear to be beyond my merely human powers, ma’am.” He bowed, and went off in Nan’s direction.

    Mrs Urqhart watched avidly.

    “Good evening, sir,” he said evenly, bowing formally.

    Henri-Louis smiled and bowed, though with a wary look in his eye.

    Lewis looked at him hard. “May I say how much I regret that we will not, after all, be seeing Your Highness in Sussex this summer?” He took Lady Benedict’s hand as he spoke, and tucked it into his arm.

    The Prince went very red.

    “But I thought you were coming down, Monsieur?” cried Nan in surprize.

    “My plans have been changed, paraît-il, madame,” said the young man with some difficulty.

    “Quite,” said Lewis coldly.

    Poor Henri-Louis gave him a bitter look. “I hear that the house where Lady Benedict intends staying is quite near to Stamforth Castle, Colonel Vane?”

    “Quite,” said Lewis coldly.

    “May I wish you both an enjoyable summer, then? Au revoir, madame; Colonel.” He bowed, unsmiling, and turned on his heel.

    “Got a bit more gumption than I had thought,” said Lewis thoughtfully to himself. “Poor young devil.”

    “You were vairy cruel and horrid to heem!” she flashed, withdrawing her arm sharply from his.

    “I see it has not yet dawned on you that your brother asked me specifically to discourage the poor young idiot.”

    “Oh,” said Nan, going very red and biting her lip.

    “Mm. Why do you suppose I broke up that cosy game of piquet you were proposing with the boy at Mrs Quarmby-Vine’s?”

    She put her chin in the air, and walked back to her chaperone.

    The Colonel followed slowly, reflecting sourly that at least her annoyance with him seemed to have led her off the scent of His Highness’s pointed reference to Stamforth.

    “I has to admit it,” croaked Mrs Urqhart, two dances later, as her difficult charge circled gracefully in Major-General Cadwallader’s arms, “I did not think that old fogey had it in ’im.”

    “No?” said Lewis politely.

    “No. Out o’ course, he ain’t never seen her in pale pink satin cut like that over the bosom, afore.”

    Lewis did not reply.

    The next dance was a waltz. “That will be the effect of pale pink satin, will it?” he said through his teeth as the dashing Captain Lord Vyvyan Gratton-Gordon clutched Lady Benedict to his manly chest and whirled her away.

    “Something like that,” replied her Ladyship’s chaperone unemotionally.

    Some three dances later Lady Benedict looked up into the smiling face of His Grace the Duke of Wellington, and gave a delighted trill of laughter. “Duke! You are vairy naughty!”

    His Grace was observed to preen himself.

    “And you thought it would be different, didn’t you?” noted Lady Benedict’s chaperone sapiently.

    Lewis went very red. “Did I?” he said shortly.

    “Aye… ’Tain’t like that.”

    “So it would appear,” he said between his teeth.

    “Lordy, if you wants her, Colonel,” she drawled, “you will have to get out there and fight them other fellows for her! She is a woman with red blood in her veins, y’know!”

    “Possibly I do not care to be considered in the same category as those other fellows,” replied Lewis tightly.

    “No, well, understandable. Only it won’t work.”

    “I had thought that she was an intelligent and sensitive human being, who—” He broke off, swallowing painfully.

    “Dunno what gave you that idea,” said the old lady dispassionately. “That is, if you means by intelligent, reasoning “

    “Yes,” he said between his teeth

    “Colonel, with creatures like her, Nature don’t let reason get a look-in once an attractive fellow gives ’em the eye! And don’t tell me it oughter, or she oughter, or none o’ that. Acos life ain’t like that. Nature don’t care none if you is ten times smarter and better than all them fellows! All it cares is, they is the ones what will spread their peacocks’ tails for her when she smiles at ’em.”

    “No doubt.” He paused. “She can be so different when we are alone,” he said on a bitter note.

    Mrs Urqhart sniffed. “Hm. Maybe. Well, I don’t doubt your word, Colonel!” she added quickly. “But—uh—dunno as I can explain it, I’m not an educated woman. Um… Put it like this. What Nan is, she ain’t just the intelligent and sensitive woman what talks to you sensible-like when you’re alone with her, and what takes little lost fledglings under her wing,” she added drily, eyeing Lord Curwellion going down the dance with his present hostess, former mistress and mother of his illegitimate daughter or two. “She is all that, aye. But she is also what you see right now.”

    Colonel Vane looked at the lovely curved vision in palest pink satin, currently being clutched far more tightly than was seemly against His Grace of Wellington’s manly chest. And very manifestly enjoying every instant of it.

    “Yes,” he said bleakly. “I see.”

    Betsy Urqhart sighed. “Get out there and enjoy your share of it, man! What else is it there for?”

    He was silent for some time. Finally he said quietly. “I find I do not care for a share, ma’am. Will you convey my excuses to Lady Benedict, please?” He rose, bowed, and went out quietly.

    Mrs Urqhart sagged limply in her seat. “Oh, lumme,” she muttered.

    “This it, is it?” she said neutrally two days later, as the barouche drew up.

    Nan nodded silently.

    Mrs Urqhart bent forward. “Oy: ALBERT! Get down and knock!”

    Albert jumped down and went to the door of Number 16 Lumb Street. A short, very wide person was seen to answer it. Mrs Urqhart’s jaw sagged.

    “Eet ees Mr Breckinridge,” said Nan. She smiled a little, and nodded: the short, wide one approached the carriage eagerly.

    “Mr Breckinridge, we—we heard that Colonel Vane has had to go eento the country,” she said in a trembling voice.

    Bowing very low, Mr Breckinridge agreed that that was so, my Lady. If he might say so, my Lady, not unexpected: an old uncle what was dying.

    “Yes,” said Nan, biting her lip. “Deed he—deed he leave a forwarding address?”

    Mr Breckinridge replied regretfully that he had not, but he had promised to send his direction later.

    “Come on, lovey, let’s go home,” said Mrs Urqhart, patting her hand. “You’ve lulled suspicion, I think, and it’s more or less the end of the Season. You might as well pack up and get out of it.”

    “Yes,” agreed Nan wanly. “I suppose I might.”

    Mrs Urqhart eyed her sideways, but refrained from giving her any advice. For what good was advice, however sound, if it went against Nature? None whatsoever!