“My dear, I beg a thousand pardons! Don’t give it another thought! Depend upon it, it was no such thing.”
“Who told you?” she demanded.
“No one told me,” he said soothingly. “I merely thought that the fair lady knew a vast deal of what happened last night. But I am sure I was wrong.”
“You w-were wrong!” she said. “I shall ask R-Rule!”
He smiled. “An excellent notion, ma’am, if it will set your mind at rest.”
She said rather pathetically: “You do think he will say it was n-nonsense, don’t you?”
“I am quite sure he will,” said Lethbridge, laughing, and stood back to allow the coachman to drive on.
He flattered himself he was an adept at shooting tiny poisonous shafts; certainly that one had gone home. While she assured herself it was a lie Horatia could not help remembering, first Lady Massey’s cruel little smile, and second, Rule’s own words: She did indeed know. And of course now Lethbridge had put her in mind of it she realized that whether the tale was true or not Rule would be bound to deny it. She did not believe it, no, but she could not help thinking about it. She could not rid herself of the idea that as a rival to the beautiful Lady Massey she stood no chance of success. Crosby Drelincourt had been the first to tell her in his oblique fashion that Lady Massey was Rule’s mistress, but it was to Theresa Maulfrey that she was indebted for further information. Mrs Maulfrey had never liked her young cousin very much, but she had made a determined attempt to cultivate her friendship as soon as she became a Countess. Unfortunately, Horatia had no more liking for Theresa than Theresa had for her, and perfectly understood the meaning of that lady’s sudden amiability. As Charlotte had so shrewdly guessed, Mrs Maulfrey had tried to patronize Horatia and when the gay Countess showed plainly that she stood in no need of patronage she had found herself quite unable to resist the temptation of saying a great many spiteful things. On the subject of Rule and his loves she spoke as a woman of the world, and as such carried weight. Horatia was left with the impression that Rule had been for years the Massey’s slave. And, as Mrs Maulfrey so sapiently remarked, a man did not change his mode of life for a chit in her teens. Mrs Maulfrey spoke of him admiringly as an accomplished lover: Horatia had no notion of swelling the ranks of his conquests. She supposed—for gentlemen were known to be strange in these matters—that he would be quite capable of making love to his wife in the interval between dalliance with widows and opera-dancers. However, since she had married him on the tacit understanding that he might amuse himself as he pleased, she could hardly object now.
So the Earl of Rule, setting out to woo his young wife, found her polite, always gay, but extremely elusive. She treated him in the friendliest way possible—rather, he thought ruefully, as she might treat an indulgent father.
Lady Louisa, considering that the state of affairs was unsatisfactory, took him roundly to task. “Don’t tell me!” she said. “You’re in a fair way of doting on that child! Lord, I’m out of all patience with you! Why don’t you make her love you? You seem to be able to do it with any other misguided female, though why I don’t know!”
“Ah!” said the Earl. “But then you are only my sister, Louisa.”
“And don’t try to turn it off!” said Lady Louisa wrathfully. “Make love to the girl! Gracious heaven, why isn’t she in love with you?”
“Because,” said the Earl slowly, “I am too old for her.”
“Stuff and fiddle!” snapped her ladyship.
When the Earl went down to Meering a week later he suggested that Horatia should accompany him. Perhaps if Lady Massey had not chosen the previous evening to throw herself in his way, Horatia might have wished for nothing better. But Rule and she had gone to Vauxhall Gardens with a snug party of their own contriving, and Lady Massey had gone there also.
It had all been mighty pleasant until after supper. There was music and dancing and everything had been very gay, the supper excellent and the Earl an ideal husband and host. And then it had all gone awry, for when she had tripped off with Mr Dashwood, and Pelham, and Miss Lloyd to look at the cascade, Rule too had left the box and wandered over to greet some friends. Horatia had seen him strolling down one of the paths with Sir Harry Topham, a racing crony. Twenty minutes later she had seen him again, but not with Sir Harry. He was in the Lover’s Walk (which made it worse) and standing very close to him and looking up at him in the most melting way was Lady Massey. Even as Horatia caught sight of them the Massey put up her hands to Rule’s shoulders.
Horatia had whisked round and declared her intention of walking down quite another path. Miss Lloyd and Pelham had fallen behind; probably Mr Dashwood had not observed the Earl. She had him away from the fatal spot in a trice so that she did not see her husband remove Lady Massey’s hands from his shoulders.
No one could have been in greater spirits than my Lady Rule for the rest of that horrid evening. Several people remarked on it, and Mr Dashwood thought her more entrancing than ever.
But when Rule visited her room next morning and sat down on the edge of her bed while she drank her chocolate he found her in a wayward mood. Go to Meering? Oh, no, she could not! Why, she had a hundred engagements and it would be dreadfully dull in the country.
“That is not very complimentary of you,” Rule said, half smiling.
“Well, but Rule, you are only g-going for a week, I daresay, and think how tiresome to pack for such a short stay! Of c-course I shall come with you after the Newmarket m-meet-ing, if we d-don’t go to Bath.”
“I would very much rather you come with me now, Horry.”
“Very w-well,” Horatia said, in the voice of a martyr. “If you say I m-must, I will.”
He got up. “Heaven forbid, my dear!”
“R-Rule, if you feel cross about it, please tell me! I d-don’t want to be a b-bad wife.”
“Do I look cross?” he inquired.
“N-no, but I never can tell what you think by l-looking at you,” said Horatia candidly.
He laughed. “Poor Horry, it must be very difficult for you. Stay in town, my dear. You are probably quite right. Arnold will make me attend to business at Meering.” He put a finger under her chin, and tilted it up. “Don’t game all my fortune away while I am gone, will you?” he said teasingly.
“No, of c-course not. I will be very g-good. And you need not be afraid that I shall encourage Lord Lethbridge, for Louisa told me all about him and I quite see that I m-mustn’t know him.”
“I am not afraid of that,” he answered, and bent and kissed her.
Chapter Fourteen
So the Earl of Rule went away to Meering accompanied only by Mr Gisborne, while his wife stayed in London and tried to convince herself that she did not miss him at all. If she was not successful in this, at least nobody could have suspected it from her demeanour. Since the big house in Grosvenor Square seemed unbearably empty without his lordship Horatia spent as much of her time as she could away from it. No one meeting her at all the card-parties, routs, drums, and picnics that she attended could have supposed her to be pining most unfashionably for her own husband. In fact, her sister Charlotte said severely that her frivolity was excessively unbecoming.
Lord Lethbridge she had no difficulty in keeping at arm’s length. They naturally met at a great many parties, but his lordship, finding that Horatia was civil but very formal, seemed to accept with equanimity his relegation to the ranks of her merest acquaintance and made no attempt to win her over again. Horatia put him out of her life without much regret. Glamour might still have clung to a rakehell who abducted noble damsels, but no glamour remained about a man who had been pushed into a pond in full ball-dress. Horatia, sorry only that she never had played cards with him, discarded him without a pang, and proceeded to forget about him.