flirtatious mood, I don't know what would.
"Grindley said he had met you. He is putting up with me for the summer. Deuced odd fellow. He insists on paying rent, as if I were running an inn. I only take it to have some cash on hand to lend him when his pockets are to let. I don't mind having him about, but I wish he would wear his own shirts."
"Did his nag win the hurdle races? He seemed to put great faith in a horse called Blue Boy."
"Blue Boy trailed the field. You never want to put your blunt on any nag Grindley recommends. Now, if you are a betting lady, I can—"
"Oh no. I am not interested in that, Lord Harelson."
The dance was pleasant enough. His flirtation never exceeded the bounds of good taste. Before leaving, he mentioned that he would "pop in" to see me, sometime he was in the neighborhood. I assented without undue enthusiasm.
Just before dinner I went abovestairs to tidy myself, and met Hennie there, rouging her cheeks. Now, the late vicar, you must know, had no opinion of rouge.
"Paving the road to hell, are you, Hennie!" I quizzed. "Where did you get that?"
"From your toilet table at home," she retorted, squinting at me. "Lord Brockley asked me if I was feeling faint. I felt fine, and concluded I must be too pale. I have decided to buy a pot of rouge, Eve. Every lady here over thirty is painted—and a few of them who are younger than that." This was a jibe at my occasional use of rouge. I was not wearing it that evening. "Why should I look like a flat?"
"Why indeed? Here, let me smooth in the edges for you." She had it sitting in two circles, low on her cheeks. "Have you decided about coming on to Mrs. Lament's gaming hell later?"
"I shall be going, but not with you and the Daltons. Lord Brockley is taking me. I don't suppose you could lend me a couple of shillings, Eve? I did not bring any money with me."
"A couple of shillings will not get you far. Here, take this," I said, and gave her a couple of guineas.
"Good gracious! I don't mean to dip so deeply as that."
But she took the money, and tucked it into her little beaded reticule. Hennie looked pretty that evening. Her eyes sparkled with a new light, and the rouge became her.
"Are you setting up a flirtation with Lord Brockley, Auntie?" I teased.
"No, he is trying to set up one with me. He is a widower."
"I knew he was available. I thought he was a bachelor."
"No, his wife died a decade ago. He finds it lonesome without her. His kiddies are all grown-up."
Lady Filmore and some other ladies came in just as we were about to leave. "Miss Denver, could I speak to you for a moment?" Lady Filmore asked, drawing me off to a corner. "I saw you dancing with Harelson. Did he say anything about me?"
"I told him you would be at my garden party, and he was eager to come."
"What did he say?" she asked, with pathetic eagerness. It seemed unkind to lead her on, but if the fellow planned to jilt her, I saw no reason why I should be his messenger.
"He said he looked forward to it."
"Is he going on to Mrs. Lament's after the rout tonight?"
"He did not mention it."
"He will surely be there. I shall go with you and Richard. You don't mind?"
"Good gracious, no. Why should I mind?"
She gave me a knowing smile. "I thought you two might want to be alone. I have never seen Richard so mad about a lady for months. He quite dotes on you, Miss Denver."
"There is nothing like that between us. Lady Filmore," I expostulated. I was about to mention the true nature of our dealings, when it struck me that Dalton might not want her to know. She was a flighty little thing; she might unwittingly give the secret away.
"And birds do not have wings either." She smiled.
Hennie was waiting by the door, so I joined her, and we went down to dinner. I sat with Mr. Dalton, and while we ate, I asked whether his sister was aware of our plan to trap Tom.
"She knows I am working with Townshend. I did not tell her that you are involved. You have not mentioned it to anyone?"
"I am
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