“Then I very much fear that I shall have to take steps to enforce this particular command,” said the Earl imperturbably.
She rejoined hotly: “You c-can’t c-coerce me into obeying you, my lord!”
“What a very ugly word, my dear!” remarked the Earl. “I am sure I have never coerced anyone.”
She felt a little baffled. “Pray, what do you m-mean to do, sir?”
“Dear Horry, surely I told you? I mean to put an end to the intimacy between you and Robert Lethbridge.”
“W-well, you c-can’t!” declared Horatia.
The Earl opened his snuff-box, and took a pinch in a leisurely fashion. “No?” he said, politely interested.
“No!”
The Earl shut the snuff-box, and dusted his sleeve with a lace-edged handkerchief.
“W-well, have you n-nothing else to say?” demanded Horatia, goaded.
“Nothing at all, my dear,” said his lordship with unruffled good-humour.
Horatia made a sound rather like that of an infuriated kitten, and flounced out of the room.
Chapter Eleven
No lady of spirit, of course, could resist the temptation of pushing matters further, and Horatia was a lady of considerable spirit. The knowledge that the eyes of the Polite World were on her invested her behaviour with a certain defiance. That anyone should dare to suppose that she, Horry Winwood, had fallen in love with Lethbridge was a ludicrous presumption to be treated only with scorn. Attracted by Lethbridge she might be, but there was a very cogent reason why she should not be in the least in love with him. The reason stood well over six foot in height, and was going to be shown, in vulgar parlance, that what was sauce for the goose could be sauce for the gander as well. And if the Earl of Rule could be roused to take action, so much the better. Horatia, her first annoyance having evaporated, was all agog to see what he would do. But he must be made to realize that his wife had no intention of sharing his favours with his mistress.
So with the laudable object of making his lordship jealous Horatia sought in her mind for some outrageous thing to do.
It did not take her long to hit upon the very thing. There was to be a ridotto held at Ranelagh, which, to tell the truth, she had given up all idea of attending, Rule having refused quite unmistakably to escort her. There had been a slight argument over the matter, but Rule had ended it by saying pleasantly: “I don’t think you would care for it, my dear. It won’t be a very genteel affair, you know.”
Horatia was aware that public ridottos were looked upon by the select as very vulgar masquerades, and she accepted the Earl’s decision with a good grace. She had heard all sorts of scandalous tales of the excesses committed at such affairs, and had really no wish, beyond a certain curiosity, to be present at one.
But now that battle was joined with the Earl a different complexion was put on the matter and it seemed all at once eminently desirable that she should attend the Ranelagh ridotto, with Lethbridge, of course, as her escort. There could be no fear of scandal, since both would be masked, and the only person who should know of the prank was my Lord of Rule. And if that did not rouse him, nothing would.
The next step was to enlist Lord Lethbridge. She had feared that this might prove a little difficult (since he was so anxious not to cast a slur on her good name), but it turned out to be quite easy.
“Take you to the ridotto at Ranelagh, Horry,” he said. “Now, why?”
“B-because I want to go, and Rule wo—can’t take me,” said Horatia, correcting herself hurriedly.
His oddly brilliant eyes held a laugh. “But how churlish of him!”
“N-never mind that,” said Horatia. “W-will you take me?”
“Of course I will,” replied Lethbridge, bowing over her hand.
So five evenings later Lord Lethbridge’s coach drew up in
Grosvenor Square, and my Lady Rule, in full ball dress, a grey domino over her arm, and a loo-mask dangling by its strings from her fingers, came out of the house, tripped down the steps, and got into the coach. She had thoughtfully left a message with the porter for Lord Rule. “If his lordship should inquire for me, inform him that I am gone to Ranelagh,” she said airily.
Her first view of Ranelagh made her delighted to have come, quite apart from the original object of the exploit. Thousands of golden lamps arranged in tasteful designs lit the gardens. Strains of music floated on the air; and crowds of gay dominoes thronged the gravel walks. In the various rotundas and lodges that were scattered about the ground refreshments could be had, while in the pavilion itself dancing was going forward.
Horatia, observing the scene through the slits of her mask, turned impulsively to Lethbridge, standing beside her with a scarlet domino hanging open from his shoulders, and cried: “I am so g-glad we came! Only see how pretty! Are you not charmed with it, R-Robert?”
“In your company, yes,” he replied. “Do you care to dance, my dear?”
“Yes, of course!” said Horatia enthusiastically.
There was nothing to shock the primmest-minded person in the demeanours of those in the ballroom, but Horatia opened her eyes a little at the sight of a scuffle for the possession of a lady’s mask taking place later beside the lily-pond under the terrace. The lady fled with most ungenteel shrieks of laughter, hotly pursued by her cavalier. Horatia said nothing, but thought privately that Rule might have reason for not wishing his wife to attend public ridottos.
However, to do him justice, Lord Lethbridge steered his fair charge carefully clear of any low-bred romping, and she continued to be very well pleased with the night’s entertainment. In fact, as she said over supper in one of the boxes, it was the most delightful adventure imaginable, and only wanted one thing to make it perfect.
“Good God, Horry, what have I left undone?” asked Lethbridge in mock dismay.
She dimpled. “Well, R-Robert, I do think it would be quite the n-nicest party I have ever been to if only we c-could play cards together!”
“Oh, rogue!” Lethbridge said softly. “You will shock the solitary gentleman in the next box, my dear.”
Horatia paid no heed to this, beyond remarking that it was ten to one the gentleman was a stranger.
“You don’t like d-dancing, Robert, you know you d-don’t! And I do want to try my skill against you.”
“Too ambitious, Horry,” he teased. “I was playing cards when you were sewing samplers. And I’ll wager I was playing better than you sewed.”
“L-Lizzie used to finish all my samplers for me,” admitted Horatia. “But I p-play cards much better than I sew, I assure you. R-Robert, why won’t you?”
“Do you think I would fleece so little a lamb?” he asked. “I haven’t the heart!”
She tilted her chin. “P-perhaps I should f-fleece you, sir!” she said.
“Yes—if I let you,” he smiled. “And of course I undoubtedly should.”
“L-let me win?” said Horatia indignantly. “I am n-not a baby, sir! If I play, I play in earnest.”
“Very well,” said Lethbridge. “I will play you—in earnest.”
She clapped her hands together, causing the man in the next box to glance round at her. “You w-will?”
“At piquet—for a certain stake,” Lethbridge said.
“W-well, of course. I d-don’t mind playing high, you know.”
“We are not going to play for guineas, my dear,” Lethbridge told her, finishing the champagne in his glass.
She frowned. “R-Rule does not like me to stake my jewels,” she said.
“Heaven forbid! We will play higher than that.”
“G-good gracious!” exclaimed Horatia. “For what then?”
“For a lock—one precious lock—of your hair, Horry,” said Lethbridge.
She drew back instinctively. “That is silly,” she said. “Besides—I c-couldn’t.”
“I thought not,” he said. “Forgive me, my dear, but you see you are not really a gamester.”
She reddened. “I am!” she declared. “I am! Only I c-can’t play you for a lock of hair! It’s stupid, and I ought not. B-besides what would you stake against it?”