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Authors: Georgette Heyer
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Thomas's sense is not superior!'
'No,' he agreed, with a melancholy sigh. He then fell silent, but said, after a few moments, somewhat acidly: 'I am excessively glad, my dear, that I have never been mortified by the spectacle of my wife throwing a daughter at the head of an eligible parti in what I can only describe as a positively shocking way!'
'Certainly not!' responded his lady, with unruffled calm. 'I hope I have too much rumgumption to do anything so bird-witted. But it must be remembered, my lord, that I have not been cursed with an improvident husband, and five daughters! I promise you, I do most sincerely feel for Lady Bugle, little though I may like her, and perfectly sympathize with her anxiety to achieve a good match for Lucasta as soon as may be possible.'
He directed a worried look at her. 'Did it seem to you that Desford was strongly attracted to that girl, my love?'
'Not in the least,' she replied unhesitatingly.
'Well, I hope you may be right,' he said. 'It seemed to me that he treated her with very flattering distinction! And it wouldn't do, you know!'
'Of course it wouldn't do, and he knows that as well as we do! Lord, my dear sir, can you suppose that a personable man of birth and fortune who has been on the town for years, and has had I don't know how many girls on the catch for him, don't recognize a lure in no more than the shake of a lambstail? If the mother's odious toadying didn't disgust him, you may depend upon it the coming manners Lucasta assumed did!'
'One would have thought so, but he appeared to me to be quite blatantly flirting with her!'
'To be sure he was!' said her ladyship. 'But in my judgment he was very much more interested in Lucasta's little cousin!'
'Good God!' ejaculated Emborough. 'Do you mean that scamp's child? – Wilfred Steane's daughter?'
His wife burst out laughing, for the look of dismay on his face was comical. 'Yes, but there's no need for you to be on the fidgets, I promise you! Recollect that Desford leaves us to-morrow! It is in the highest degree unlikely that he will ever see the girl again; and for my part I wouldn't wager a groat on the chance that he won't have forgotten all about her by the time he reaches London!'
If this was a somewhat exaggerated statement, it is probable that had not Chance intervened Miss Cherry Steane would not have lived for long in the Viscount's memory. But Chance did intervene, and on the very next day.
Since Hazelfield was situated within a few miles of Alton, and he was bound for London, he did not take leave of his hosts until he had consumed a leisurely breakfast. The threatened storm had burst (according to Emma's account) directly over the house in the small hours, but after a violent downpour the weather had cleared, and the Viscount set out on his journey with every expectation of covering the distance in bright sunlight, and of reaching his destination in excellent time to change his dress, and to stroll from his house in Arlington Street to White's Club, where he meant to dine.
At Alton, he joined the post-road to Southampton, and was soon driving through Farnham. It was when he was a few miles beyond this town that Fate took a hand in his affairs.
A female figure, wearing a round bonnet and a gray cloak, plodding ahead, with a slightly dilapidated portmanteau in her grasp, did not attract his attention, but just as his horses drew abreast of her she turned her head, looking up at him, and disclosed the child-like countenance of Miss Cherry Steane. Con sider ably startled, he uttered an exclamation, and reined in his horses.
'Why, what's amiss, my lord?' demanded Stebbing, even more startled.
The Viscount, slewing round to obtain a second view of Miss Steane, found that the fleeting glance he had cast down at her as his curricle swept past had not deceived him: Miss Steane it most certainly was. He thrust the reins
'No,' he agreed, with a melancholy sigh. He then fell silent, but said, after a few moments, somewhat acidly: 'I am excessively glad, my dear, that I have never been mortified by the spectacle of my wife throwing a daughter at the head of an eligible parti in what I can only describe as a positively shocking way!'
'Certainly not!' responded his lady, with unruffled calm. 'I hope I have too much rumgumption to do anything so bird-witted. But it must be remembered, my lord, that I have not been cursed with an improvident husband, and five daughters! I promise you, I do most sincerely feel for Lady Bugle, little though I may like her, and perfectly sympathize with her anxiety to achieve a good match for Lucasta as soon as may be possible.'
He directed a worried look at her. 'Did it seem to you that Desford was strongly attracted to that girl, my love?'
'Not in the least,' she replied unhesitatingly.
'Well, I hope you may be right,' he said. 'It seemed to me that he treated her with very flattering distinction! And it wouldn't do, you know!'
'Of course it wouldn't do, and he knows that as well as we do! Lord, my dear sir, can you suppose that a personable man of birth and fortune who has been on the town for years, and has had I don't know how many girls on the catch for him, don't recognize a lure in no more than the shake of a lambstail? If the mother's odious toadying didn't disgust him, you may depend upon it the coming manners Lucasta assumed did!'
'One would have thought so, but he appeared to me to be quite blatantly flirting with her!'
'To be sure he was!' said her ladyship. 'But in my judgment he was very much more interested in Lucasta's little cousin!'
'Good God!' ejaculated Emborough. 'Do you mean that scamp's child? – Wilfred Steane's daughter?'
His wife burst out laughing, for the look of dismay on his face was comical. 'Yes, but there's no need for you to be on the fidgets, I promise you! Recollect that Desford leaves us to-morrow! It is in the highest degree unlikely that he will ever see the girl again; and for my part I wouldn't wager a groat on the chance that he won't have forgotten all about her by the time he reaches London!'
If this was a somewhat exaggerated statement, it is probable that had not Chance intervened Miss Cherry Steane would not have lived for long in the Viscount's memory. But Chance did intervene, and on the very next day.
Since Hazelfield was situated within a few miles of Alton, and he was bound for London, he did not take leave of his hosts until he had consumed a leisurely breakfast. The threatened storm had burst (according to Emma's account) directly over the house in the small hours, but after a violent downpour the weather had cleared, and the Viscount set out on his journey with every expectation of covering the distance in bright sunlight, and of reaching his destination in excellent time to change his dress, and to stroll from his house in Arlington Street to White's Club, where he meant to dine.
At Alton, he joined the post-road to Southampton, and was soon driving through Farnham. It was when he was a few miles beyond this town that Fate took a hand in his affairs.
A female figure, wearing a round bonnet and a gray cloak, plodding ahead, with a slightly dilapidated portmanteau in her grasp, did not attract his attention, but just as his horses drew abreast of her she turned her head, looking up at him, and disclosed the child-like countenance of Miss Cherry Steane. Con sider ably startled, he uttered an exclamation, and reined in his horses.
'Why, what's amiss, my lord?' demanded Stebbing, even more startled.
The Viscount, slewing round to obtain a second view of Miss Steane, found that the fleeting glance he had cast down at her as his curricle swept past had not deceived him: Miss Steane it most certainly was. He thrust the reins
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