“Unquestionably,” he said gravely.
“And as for the tulips, I know several, and they would not do for me at all. Besides, they are not romantic, because they have to think so much about their cravats and their coats and the size of their buttons that they have no time for anything besides. The most truly romantic man I know does not give a fig for what he may look like. It would not do for everyone to be so careless, of course, but he is so extremely handsome that it don’t signify a scrap.”
“Ah, I begin to fear that this dangerous blade is the man destined to carry you off!”
She laughed. “No, indeed you are quite mistaken! He is madly in love with someone else! And in any event, I think he would make a very uncomfortable husband, for whenever he is out of humour he wants to fight a duel.”
“That would certainly be a drawback,” he agreed. “It is to be hoped he is not frequently out of humour!”
“Oh yes! He takes a pet for the least little thing!” said Hero cheerfully. “And the mischief is that he is such a fine shot that no one will oblige him by going out with him. It puts him out of all patience sometimes, and indeed one cannot wonder at it. But only conceive how tiresome it would be to be married to such a man!”
“You can have no notion how glad I am to discover that you favour a milder-tempered bridegroom, Miss Wantage,” said Mr Tarleton, keeping his face prim. “Er — must your future husband be a veryyoung gentleman?”
She had forgotten herself in talking of Sherry’s friends; Mr Tarleton’s last words recalled her to a sense of her surroundings. She started, almost afraid that she might have betrayed herself, and blushed vividly, saying in a hurried way: “It is all nonsense! I do not know how we come to be talking of such absurdities. Tell me about the chestnuts General Crawley says you are meaning to buy from him! Do you mean to drive them in your curricle? Are they sweet-goers? I was used to drive a high-stepping grey, in a phaeton, you know — very free and fast, and with the lightest of mouths! I won a race once — a private race, I mean,” she added, a stricken expression entering her eyes for an instant at the memory this conjured up.
“So you are a whip!” Mr Tarleton exclaimed. “I might have guessed it indeed! But, come, this is famous! The chestnuts you speak of are a match pair — beautiful steppers! If I purchase them from the General, may I hope that you will honour them, and me, by driving them?”
The stricken look vanished. Hero turned impulsively towards him. “Oh, would you teach me to handle a pair? Gil — the particular friend who taught me to drive my phaeton — would not let me drive his curricle, but I have a great desire to! That is, if Lady Saltash will permit me to.”
Mr Tarleton assured her that her ladyship would have no objection to such a harmless pastime, and so indeed it proved. Lady Saltash chuckled and gave permission; and very soon it became quite an accepted thing for Mr Tarleton to drive up to the house in Camden Place any fine morning and to take up his eager pupil. They drove about the country in the immediate vicinity of the town, and Hero had such a real aptitude that it was not long before she was acquitting herself creditably enough for her to wish that Mr Ringwood could see her progress. While she held the reins in her hands she could almost forget the trouble that lay in her heart. She was often merry, always entirely natural, never dreamed that anyone so elderly as her companion could be falling in love with her, thought him one of the kindest men she had encountered, and so treated him in a confiding way that completed his downfall. Mr Tarleton felt himself to be growing daily younger in her presence, began to think seriously of matrimony, and racked his brains to think how best to make his suit attractive to so youthful, so unconventional, and so romantic a lady. A still, small voice within him, whispering that he would regret this madness, he resolutely ignored. It occurred to him that he had hitherto led the most humdrum of lives, and that to indulge in a little madness would be a welcome relief.
Chapter Twenty-One
UPON LEAVING GRILLON’S HOTEL, SHERRY BETOOK himself home to Half Moon Street, meeting on the way Lord Wrotham, who was driving his sulky down Piccadilly towards St James’s Street. The Viscount hailed him and he drew up. His restless, handsome countenance betrayed no pleasure in the encounter, however; and he greeted his friend with a scowl and a curt: “Well, what?”
“Oh, the devil! are you in the sullens again?” retorted Sherry. “What a fellow you are, George! I’ve a deuced good mind not to tell you something you’d give a deal to hear!”
George shrugged his shoulders. “Do as you please! I don’t know what should have happened to put you in spirits. When last I saw you — ”
“Never mind that!” interrupted Sherry. “If you wanted to pick a quarrel with me, you should have done it then, for by God, I was in the humour to quarrel with anyone who offered! Change my mind now. Thought you’d like to know the Beauty is back in town.”
George made as if to give his horse the office to start. “If you have come to smash up to me merely to tell me that, you have wasted your time! She might be in Jericho for aught I care!”
“Point is she ain’t in Jericho. She’s on her way to Bath with my mother. I am escorting the pair of them there tomorrow.”
The rigid look was wiped suddenly from Lord Wrotham’s face. “What?” he ejaculated.
“True as I stand here! But that ain’t what I wanted to tell you. Severn did come up to scratch.”
George’s brilliant eyes were now fixed on his face, in an expression of painful eagerness. “Do you tell me she refused him?”
“That’s it. Said she had liked the notion of being a duchess, but when she thought of having to live with Severn all her life, she couldn’t stomach it. Can’t say I blame her.”
“I don’t believe it!”
“Well, you may do so. I’ve known Bella Milborne all my life. Very truthful girl — a dashed sight too truthful, I used to think, when we were youngsters! Besides, she told me not to repeat it. Thinks Severn wouldn’t wish to have it known he’d been rejected. Deuce take it, I never thought I should live to feel sorry for the Incomparable, but there’s no getting away from it: she’s looking downright peaky! Told me she was in disgrace with Mrs Milborne, and her father and my mother were the only people to have been kind to her. Told me something else, too, and I’ll swear she meant it!”
“What else did she tell you?” demanded George.
Sherry grinned up at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Think I’m going to betray a lady’s confidence? I’m not!”
George drew a deep breath and sat staring straight between his horse’s ears. After a moment he recollected the first of Sherry’s disclosures, and transferred his intent gaze to his face again. “You said she was on her way to Bath with your mother!”
“Well, why the devil shouldn’t she be?”
“But you said you was going there too!”
“So I am. My mother’s afraid of highwaymen, or some such flummery.”
George frowned at him. “She can hire outriders!”
“That’s what I told her, but nothing will do for her but to have me to go with her.”
George’s eyes were beginning to kindle. “Oh, indeed? It’s something new, by God it is! for you to be dancing attendance on your mother, Sherry! And let me tell you now that if you are meaning to have a touch at Isabella again — ”
“Go and take a damper, you fool!” retorted Sherry. “I’m a married man! What’s more, if I did mean to have a touch at her, I wouldn’t tell you she was on her way to Bath!”
Mollified, George begged pardon, explaining that he was so worn down that he hardly knew what he was saying. Sherry accepted this, and would have taken his leave had not George detained him to say: “I wouldn’t go to Bath, if I was you, Sherry. You don’t like the place. If Lady Sheringham would allow me to take your — ”