Emerging from her handkerchief, Frederica showed him not a tearful but a laughing countenance. “Oh, I don’t think he hurt the cows at all, because we caught him before he had time to!”
“In that case, then — ”
“No, Charles!” interposed the Marquis. “My sole desire is to be rid of the business, and this is not the moment to be clutch-fisted!”
“Oh, I’ll see to it that you’re rid of it, sir!” said Charles cheerfully, and withdrew.
“Well, what an excellent young man!” said Frederica.
VII
“He is, isn’t he?” agreed Alverstoke.
She looked up at him. “Yes, and you too! You were truly splendid, and I am very much obliged to you! Oh, and I do beg your pardon for having embroiled you! The thing was, you see, that they threatened to impound Luff, and only think what the consequences might have been! That was why I said he belonged to you.” A gurgle of laughter rose in her throat. “L-like P-puss in Boots!”
“Like what?” he demanded.
“M-my cousin the M-Marquis of Alverstoke!” she explained. “You know!”
“No doubt I am extremely dull-witted, but I — ”
He broke off, as enlightenment dawned on him, and the frown left his brow. “Oh! — the Marquis of Carabas!”
“Of course! And it answered! Except with that horrid creature you gave such a set-down to! I never in my life heard anything so ruthlessly uncivil, but I must own that I enjoyed it!” She began to laugh again. “Oh, but you nearly overset me when you said Luff was a Baluchistan hound! And so you shall be, you bad dog!”
Gratified, Lufra reared himself on his hind legs, and licked her face. She pushed his forepaws off her knees, and got up. “You are a shameless commoner!” she informed him. She raised her eyes to Alverstoke’s and held out her hand. “Thank you!” she said, smiling at him. “I must go now. You will tell me, won’t you, how much Mr Trevor was obliged to pay those men?”
“Just a moment!” he said. “You haven’t explained to me how it comes about that you were walking alone, cousin.”
“No,” she agreed. “But then, you haven’t explained to me how it comes about that that is your concern, have you?”
“I am perfectly ready to do so, however. Whatever may be the accepted mode in Herefordshire, in London it won’t do. Girls of your age and breeding don’t go about town unaccompanied.”
“Well, in general I don’t do so, and, naturally, I would never permit Charis to. But I’m not a girl. I daresay you might think me one, being yourself so much older, but I promise you I ceased to be a young miss years ago! And, in any event, I am not answerable to you for my actions, Cousin Alverstoke!”
“Oh, yes, you are!” he retorted. “If you expect me to launch you into society, Frederica, you will conform to society’s rules! You’ll either do as I bid you, or I shall wash my hands of you. If you are determined to set the world in a bustle, find another sponsor!”
She flushed, and her lips parted. But whatever stinging reply she had been about to utter she suppressed, closing her lips firmly. After a pause, she managed to smile, and to say: “I daresay you would be very happy to wash your hands of us, after today’s adventure.”
“Oh, no!” he said coolly. “You may put that out of your mind!”
“That is precisely what I can’t do, though I wish very much that I could, because it almost slays me to be compelled to keep my tongue between my teeth!” she told him. “I should dearly love to come to cuffs with you, my lord, but I’m not sunk quite below reproach — though I must say I think you are!” she added frankly.
“But why?” he asked, beginning to be amused.
“Because you knew very well when you pinched at me in that odious way that I was too much obliged to you to give you a set-off!”
He laughed. “Do you think you could?”
“Yes, to be sure I could! I can say very cutting things when I’m put into a passion.”
“I’ll endure them!”
She shook her head, a dimple peeping in her cheek. “No, I’ve come down from the boughs now. To own the truth, I think I flew into them because my aunt says exactly what you did: nothing makes one so cross as knowing one is in the wrong, does it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”
She looked surprised, but decided not to pursue the matter. “Well, I’ll try not to put you to the blush. The case is that Charis has one of her colds, and Jessamy, you know, works at his books every morning: that’s why Charis and I take Luff out walking. He needs a great deal of exercise — more than he can get in London, poor fellow!”
“Then why not Felix, or your maid?”
“I haven’t a maid — not an abigail, I mean. Only the housemaids, and they are all town-bred, and it is the greatest bore to go out walking with any of them, because they will dawdle, or say their shoes hurt them. I would have taken Felix, only that he was set on visiting a Mechanical Museum, and he would have been glumpish all the way if I had insisted on his bearing me company. Oh, pray don’t frown! I won’t do it again!”
“You need a footman,” he said, still frowning.
“What, to protect me? Luff does that, I promise you!”
“To wait on you — carry your parcels — deliver your letters.”
“I suspect you mean I need one to add to my consequence!”
“That too,” he replied.
She looked thoughtful, and presently smiled, rather ruefully. “To present a respectable appearance, as Buddle says! He wished me to bring Peter to London, but I left him at Graynard, because, for one thing, Mr Forth was anxious to hire him; and, for another, it seemed such an unnecessary expense. However, I own I have felt the want of a footman, on Buddle’s account: he’s too old for these horrid London houses.”
“Is the expense a bar?” he asked bluntly.
“Oh, no! I’ll hire a footman, and he can take the place of the maid who at present helps Buddle.”
“No, leave it to me!” he said. “Hiring footmen — London footmen — is no work for green girls.”
“Thank you: you are very obliging! But there is no reason why you should be put to that trouble.”
“I shan’t be. Trevor will find a suitable man, and send him to see Buddle.”
“Then I shall be very much obliged to him.” She held out her hand again. “Now, I’ll say goodbye, cousin.”
“Not yet! Unless you have some urgent business to attend to, I suggest you allow me to drive you to visit my sister. She wishes to make your acquaintance, and this seems a good opportunity to take you to see her.”
Startled, she said: “Oh, but Charis —! Surely she should go too? Won’t Lady Buxted think it very uncivil — when she has consented to introduce her at your ball?”
“No, how should she, when the circumstances are explained to her? She would think it far more uncivil of you to delay making this visit of ceremony.”
“Yes, but Charis will be well again in a day or two!”
“I sincerely hope so. Unfortunately, I am off to Newmarket tomorrow, and shall be away for a sennight. To postpone the visit until we shall be within a fortnight of the ball would be beyond the line of being pleasing, believe me!”
She looked dismayed. “Indeed it would! Oh, dear, she would suppose us to be quite without conduct, wouldn’t she? But I’m not dressed for it!”
He put up his glass, and surveyed her through it. She was wearing a hair-brown pelisse, with orange-jean half-boots, and a neat little hat trimmed with a single ostrich plume curling over its brim. He lowered his glass. “I see nothing amiss,” he said.
“You may not, but you may depend upon it that Lady Buxted will write me down as a positive dowdy! I’ve worn this pelisse any time these past two years!”
“It will be quite unnecessary to tell her so.”