Lady of Quality Read online

  He put up his glass. 'Oh, so that's Iverley's heir, is it? Not a bad-looking halfling, but too chitty-faced. Legs like cat-sticks too.' His glass swept round the group, and his face hardened. 'I see she has Kilbride dangling after her,' he said abruptly. 'Let me make it plain to you, ma'am, that that's a connection I don't wish you to encourage!'

  She was nettled by his suddenly autocratic tone, but replied with characteristic honesty: 'I shall certainly not do so, Mr Carleton, rest assured! To be frank with you, I was vexed that he should have come up to me last night, so that I was obliged to introduce him to Lucilla, for although I find him an agree able companion, I am well aware that his engaging manners, coupled as they are with considerable address and a propensity for flirting desperately with almost any pretty female, make him an undesirable friend for a green girl.'

  He let his glass fall, and transferred his gaze to her face. 'You have a tendre for him, have you? I might have guessed it! Your affairs are no concern of mine, Miss Wychwood, but Lucilla's are very much my concern, and I give you fair warning that I don't mean to let her fall into the clutches of Kilbride or any other loose screw of his kidney!'

  She replied, in a cold voice at startling variance with the flame of anger in her eyes: 'Pray enlighten my ignorance, sir! In what way does Mr Kilbride's character differ from your own?'

  Any hope she might have cherished of putting him out of countenance died stillborn: he merely looked astonished, and ejaculated: 'Good God, do you imagine I would permit her to marry any one like myself ? What a bird-witted question to have asked me! And I had begun to think you a woman of superior sense!'

  She found herself without a word to say, but no answer was required of her. With the briefest of bows he turned away, leaving her to regret that she had allowed her vexation to betray her into what she realized, too late, had been an impropriety. Ladies of the first consideration did not accuse even the most hardened rake-shame of being a loose screw. She told herself that the fault lay at his door: she had caught the infection of far too plain speaking from him. But it would not do; her conscience smote her; she foresaw that she would be obliged to offer him an apology; and discovered, with some surprise, that it was more mortifying to be thought by him to be bird-witted than brassily forward.

  Giving herself a mental shake, she made her way to Mrs Stinchcombe's party, and greeted that lady with her usual smiling calm. But before she had time to exchange greetings with the rest of the company she suffered a set-back. Lucilla cried impulsively: 'Oh, Miss Wychwood, do pray tell Mr Kilbride that we shall be happy to see him at the party! I ventured to invite him, for you told me I might invite anyone I chose, and I know he is a friend of yours! Only he says he dare not come without an invitation from you!'

  It was at this point that Miss Wychwood realized that taking charge of Lucilla was not likely to be the sinecure she had blithely expected it to be. It was impossible to repudiate the invitation so innocently given, but she did her best. She said: 'Certainly, if he cares to come, I shall be happy to include him.'

  'I do care to come!' he said promptly, moving forward to bow over her hand. He raised his head, smiling wickedly at her, and added softly: 'Why don't you wish me to, most adored lady? Surely you must know that I am an excellent man to have at a party!'

  'Oh, yes!' she said lightly. 'Amusing rattles always are! But I don't think mine is going to be the sort of party you enjoy. In fact, I fancy you would find it a very insipid one – almost a children's party!'

  'Oh, in that case you can't possibly exclude me! I am at my best at children's parties, and will engage myself to organize any number of parlour games to keep your youthful guests entertained. Charades, for instance, or Blind Man's Buff !'

  'Don't be so absurd!' she said, laughingly. 'If you come, I shall expect you to entertain the dowagers!'

  'Oh, there will be no difficulty about that! I have even succeeded in entertaining my grandmother, and that, you know, calls for great skill in the art!'

  'You know, you are a sad scamp!' she told him, as she moved away from him.

  She found that Mr Beckenham had joined the group, and it occurred to her, as she shook hands with him, that Mr Kilbride's presence at her rout would be less marked if she invited Mr Beckenham too. He was considerably younger than Kilbride, but his easy address, and decided air of fashion made him appear to be older than his years. He was accompanied by a very dashing Tulip, whom he presented as Jonathan Hawkesbury: a friend of his who had toddled down from London to spend a few days at Beckenham Court, so Miss Wychwood promptly included him in her invitation. She did not form any very high opinion of his mental powers, but his manners were extremely polite, and his raiment so exquisite that he was bound, she thought, to lend lustre to her party. Both gentlemen accepted her invitation, Mr Hawkesbury expressing himself as being very much obliged to her, and Harry saying, with his careless grace: 'By Jove, yes! We shall be delighted to come to your party, dear Miss Annis! Will there be dancing?'

  Miss Wychwood rapidly revised her plans. She had engaged a small orchestra to discourse soft music to her guests, but she now began to think that the musicians might well strike up a country dance or two, and perhaps – daring thought! – a waltz. That might shock some of the starchier dowagers, for although the waltz was becoming increasingly fashionable in London it was never danced at any of the Bath Assemblies. But it would undoubtedly raise her party from the doldrums of the dull and ordinary to the ranks of the unexpectedly modish. She said: 'Well, that will depend on circumstances! It is to be a rout-party, not a ball, but I daresay it will end as – not a ball, but an impromptu hop.'

  Mr Beckenham applauded this suggestion, and added the in-formation that his somewhat inarticulate friend sported a very pretty toe. Mr Hawkesbury disclaimed, but expressed with great gallantry the hope that he might be granted the honour of leading his hostess on to the floor. Miss Wychwood then detached herself from the group, with the intention of enlarging her party by the inclusion of Major Beverley, who had just entered the Pump Room, in attendance on his mama. He was not a dancing-man, but he was of much the same age as Denis Kilbride, and, from the circumstance of his having had the misfortune to lose an arm at the sanguinary engagement at Waterloo, was an object of awed interest to the damsels who would be present at the party. Having successfully enrolled him, she strolled round the room in search of further prey. She found two; and it suddenly occurred to her that her object was not so much to provide Lucilla with a counter-attraction, as to hide Mr Kilbride from Mr Carleton's penetrating eyes. This was so ridiculous that it made her laugh inwardly; but it was also vexing: what concern was it of his whom she chose to invite to her house? She didn't give a straw for his opinion, and wouldn't waste another thought on it.

  Nothing was seen of him for the following two days, but towards evening on the third day he called in Camden Place to inform Lucilla that he had procured a well-mannered mare for her to ride. 'My groom is bringing her down, and will look after her,' he said. 'I'll tell him to come here for orders every day.'

  'Oh!' squeaked Lucilla joyfully. 'Thank you, sir! I am excessively obliged to you! Where does she come from? When shall I be able to ride her? What sort of a mare is she? Shall I like her?'

  'I trust so. She's a gray, carries a good head, and jumps off her hocks. She comes from Lord Warrington's stables, and is accustomed to carrying a lady, but I bought her at Tattersall's, Warrington having no further use for her since his wife's death. You may ride her the day after tomorrow.'

  'Oh, famous! capital!' she cried, clapping her hands. 'Was that why I thought you must have left Bath? Did you go all the way to London to buy me a horse of my very own? I am – I am truly grateful to you! Miss Wychwood has lent me her own favourite mare, and she is the sweetest-goer imaginable, but I don't like to be borrowing her mare, even though she says she doesn't wish to ride herself.'

  'No, nor do I like it,' he said. He put up his glass, surveying through it Mr Elmore, who had risen at his entrance, but