She herself was beginning to go to quite a number of card parties. From a sedate pool of quadrille or one of commerce, it was no great step to the headier excitements of loo, faro, and whist. Mrs Hoby was very fond of gaming, and Hero was perfectly ready to spend an evening in her smart little house off Park Lane, putting into rather inexpert practice all she had learned from Sherry. She lost more than she won, but the allowance which Sherry, under Mr Stoke’s advice, made her seemed so handsome that there could be little point in considering a few losses at cards.
Mr Ringwood had been as good as his word in teaching her how to drive her phaeton, and as she discovered an aptitude in herself for handling the ribbons it was not long before she was to be seen driving in dashing style through Hyde Park at the fashionable hour of the promenade. This was quite unexceptionable, and was applauded by the Viscount, since it brought his Hero to the notice of the Polite World, and made her appear to advantage. She sometimes took Isabella up with her, but the Beauty was a trifle nervous of being perched up behind a very high-stepping horse, and had no great confidence in her friend’s mastery over this animal. She perceived that the new Viscountess was bent on making a stir in the world, and could not help envying her her position, and her freedom from the shackles that hampered a single lady. Sometimes she felt just a little jealous of Hero’s undoubted popularity with Sherry’s friends, but she was generally able to comfort herself with the reflection that they treated her with a camaraderie which seemed to preclude the sort of devotion she herself inspired in male breasts. His Grace of Severn, who was slightly pompous, gave it as his opinion that Hero was inclined to be fast, and never accorded her more than a common bow in passing, a circumstance which Miss Milborne tried hard not to be glad of.
The visit to Almack’s was, as far as Hero was concerned, one of unmixed contentment. She thought that everyone was very kind, scarcely noticed the cold propriety of Miss Drummond Burrell’s manners, or the critical stare of Princess Esterhazy. She could not but be happy with her hand in Sherry’s arm, and if he found an evening spent where dancing and not cards was the order of the day somewhat flat, he was so well-pleased with the reception accorded his bride that he even forbore to comment unfavourably to her on the nature of the refreshments. He magnanimously stayed throughout the proceedings, bore his part in several of the dances, presented Hero to all the most influential persons present, and generally behaved in an exemplary fashion. On their way home, however, he said that he would take her to something a little more amusing than one of these assemblies, and see how she liked it. She did not think that she could like anything as well, but she was ready to go anywhere with him, and set forth three or four days later to a masquerade at Covent Garden with every expectation of enjoyment.
And indeed it was, as he had promised, a most entertaining evening, though of a very different character from the sedate assembly at Almack’s. They went masked, and found a vast rout of people of all sorts and conditions in the Opera House, making a good deal of noise, and apparently enjoying themselves hugely. Sherry had taken one of the lower boxes for the evening, and after he had danced once or twice with his wife, he led her to the box to partake of a varied supper there, washed down with iced champagne punch. While they sat over this, the Viscount, rather forgetful of his company, quizzed any woman who took his wandering fancy, levelled his eyeglass at any well-turned ankle, and laughed with his wife over several of the couples within their range of vision. Hero had no objection to any of this, even pointing out good ankles or particularly neat figures to Sherry, speculating on the identity of various persons, and interestedly learning from her incorrigible husband the signs by which she would in future be able to recognize what he gracefully termed ‘a bit of muslin’.
One of these bits of muslin, who had been watching their box for some time, presently took occasion to stroll past it, with such a provocative glance over her shoulder, such an alluring swing of her hips that no gentleman of the Viscount’s mettle could withstand the challenge. “I fancy I know that little love-bird!” he exclaimed. “I must discover if she is not Flyaway Nancy, for I’ll lay you a monkey she is, the saucy little piece!”
With this, he abruptly left Hero’s side to pursue the alluring siren through the press of persons on the floor of the vast house. Hero thought this a very good joke, and sat watching his audacious advances to the suddenly coy damsel, her eyes dancing through the slits of her mask.
All at once she found that she was no longer alone in the box, a masked stranger having entered by the simple expedient of climbing over the low partition that railed it off from the floor. She turned in surprise as an arch male voice said in her ear: “All by yourself, my dear?”
“Yes. Who are you?” asked Hero innocently.
“Another lonely soul!” responded the visitor, seating himself unasked in Sherry’s vacant chair and laying an arm along the back of hers. “Take pity on me, pretty stranger!”
Hero had at first imagined that the intruder must be someone with whom she was acquainted, but his voice was quite unknown to her, and she did not at all relish the familiarity of his manners. She said reasonably: “You cannot know whether I am pretty or not, sir, and I am perfectly certain that you have not been introduced to me. Please go away!”
He laughed at this. “Why, what a prudish little puss! Shall I make myself known to you in form? And if I do, will you tell me what name I may call you by?”
“No, I won’t,” said Hero bluntly. “And I don’t in the least desire to know yours! Go away!”
“Naughty puss to show her claws!” chided her tormentor. “Now, why can’t I please you, I wonder? I am sure I shall be pleased with you — when I see you!”
“You will not see me, and if you don’t immediately leave my box I shall!” said Hero, sitting very straight in her chair and flushing under her mask.
He slid an arm round her shoulders. “No, no, I am persuaded you won’t deny me a sight of your charms!” he said, fumbling with his free hand at the strings of her mask.
Hero gave an outraged little cry, and struggled to thrust him off. The Viscount, who was attempting much the same thing as the intrusive stranger, chanced at that moment to glance in the direction of his box. An oath escaped him; the astonished lady who had been trying very half heartedly to repulse him found herself suddenly free, and watched in some dudgeon his hasty and impetuous descent on his box. He vaulted lightly over the partition, plucked the enterprising city buck from his chair, and floored him with what he himself would have called a facer.
“Oh, thank you, Sherry!” gasped Hero. “I can’t think who he is, but he is a most odious person, and he seems to fancy that I am a bit of muslin! I am so glad you came back!”