"And as for you, sir," he said severely, "you will kindly keep a civil tongue in your head when ladies are present, or I shall have your mouth cleansed with soap."
"Gosh-a-gorry," said Oscar penitently, and he stood still in the middle of his cage and hung his head.
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Life quickly settled into some sort of pattern for the newly married pair. They tended not to see very much of each other during the daytime, except at the breakfast table. Eversleigh spent his days at his clubs, at the House of Lords, with his male friends at various sporting activities, or at home working alone or with his secretary. Henry, who was getting more used to the social life of the capital, was adapting to the change. She still rose earlier in the morning than most ladies of her class. She frequently rode in the park before it became too crowded, a groom always a short distance behind. In the afternoons she shopped, or visited, or traveled around London with the twins.
In the evenings Eversleigh usually dined at home. Sometimes afterward he would withdraw to one of his clubs. More often, he would escort his wife to some entertainment: the opera, a play, or a ball, perhaps.
On the second day after their return from France, a handsome high-perch phaeton was delivered to the duke's mansion, a wedding present for the duchess from her dear friends, the Raeburns.
"Ah," said Eversleigh, eyeing the conveyance through his quizzing glass, Henry at his side, "a very unusual wedding present, Henry."
"Yes, she said, eyes shining, "but is it not magnificent, Marius? I shall be able to drive myself in the park. It will be famous."
He eyed her out of the corner of his eye. "Perhaps, my love, I should have a groom run along ahead of you with a hand bell to warn all unsuspecting souls that you are Coming.
"Absurd!" She laughed. "Papa used to say I must have been born in the saddle."
"In the saddle maybe, but perched several feet above the horses' backs, Henry, with only the ribbons and a whip to control them?"
"Pooh!" she said. "I do not anticipate any problems." "For my peace of mind, Henry, allow me to drive with you for a while?"
"When you speak to me like that, Marius, I know I have no choice," she said practically, "so I might as well say yes."
"Quite so, my dear girl," he replied with a slight bow.
Henry was left feeling very glad that there had been no really awkward questions about the strangeness of the "wedding gift." At least Douglas had had the tact to say that the phaeton was a gift from his family.
On the next day, a pair of perfectly matched grays was delivered to the duke's stables. He was away from home when they arrived, but he was informed of the delivery as soon as he set foot inside the house, first by a hurtling pair of twins, who were down the stairs before the butler had time to close the door behind him, and then by his wife, who descended the staircase with only marginally more dignity.
"Marius!", she shrieked, startling his eyes wide open for a moment by rushing straight at him and throwing her arms around his neck. "You really. are too generous. Yesterday you pretended to be so cautious about my phaeton. I really thought you disapproved and did not want me't drive it. But today you surprised me with a pair of gray They are perfectly gorgeous, your Grace."
"Henry, my love, I think the hallway of our home is hardly the appropriate scene for such an impassioned embrace. Shall we discuss the matter in the drawing room?" Eversleigh asked, apparently unperturbed by the misunderstanding. "And, Phil, if you keep hopping around in that manner, dear boy, you will surely knock down one of those marble busts and Mrs. Dean will have your head, or mine."
Henry twined her arm through his as they ascended the staircase together. "The grays are perfect for my phaeton, Marius," she said. "I wanted to take them out this afternoon, but I remembered that you wish to be with me until you can be certain that I shall not break my neck. I shan't, you know, but it seemed only fair to wait after you had been so generous. Did you go out first thing this morning to buy them for me?"
"I have been trying to acquire them for several months,' Eversleigh answered evasively. I suppose our marriage finally speeded the matter on."
"Did you have to pay a great deal for them?" she asked, looking anxiously up into his face.
He looked back into her eyes, his own half-hidden behind his eyelids. "I begin to think that the cost was not too high at all," he answered smoothly.
The Duke of Eversleigh spent a few afternoons with his wife, sitting beside her as she drove her new phaeton, pulled by the grays. The conveyance was dangerous and daring for a woman; the grays were high-spirited and difficult animals. The combination should have been beyond Henry's skill and strength, but as she had predicted, she proved to be an excellent whip. She drove her dashing new vehicle with precision and apparent ease. Eversleigh's relaxed and almost-lazy posture beside her suggested that he was not at all surprised by his wife's skills. After a few days, she was to be seen driving in the park alone, with a groom up behind. Some members of the ton murmured about the amount of freedom the duke was allowing his young wife.
Although Eversleigh accompanied Henry to several eve-ning functions, he did not always dog her footsteps. Frequently at the theater he would leave their box during the intervals as soon as visitors came to call on her. He would wander into the hallway to converse with acquaintances, or enter other boxes to pay courtesy calls on their occupants. At balls he would frequently disappear into the card room after dancing once with his wife, leaving her to mingle with her growing number of friends.
And so Henry Devron, Duchess of Eversleigh, became something of the rage of London that Season. She was titled, rich, vivacious, and pretty in a thoroughly unfashionable way. Young men flocked to her. She was interesting to be with, with her refreshingly open manners and down-to-earth conversation. She knew nothing of feminine wiles and so, paradoxically, was extremely attractive to men; she was safely married and could be flirted with and dallied with without fear that an overbearing parent would demand a declaration from the man concerned. Soon after her return from her wedding trip, Henry had acquired a fairly large court of followers.
She seemed totally oblivious of her own popularity, seeming not to realize that there was anything unusual about having at least half a dozen men calling each afternoon, vying for the honor of taking her driving or of accompanying her in her own vehicle, crowding her box whenever she appeared at the theater or opera house. Eversleigh seemed well aware, but appeared not the least annoyed or alarmed by the phenomenon. In fact, he left the field clear for her court, though he usually looked over the individual members languidly with his quizzing glass before taking himself away.
And so it happened that, a little more than a week after her return to London, Henry came face to face with Oliver Cranshawe at Lady Emery's ball one evening. She had met him at her wedding and recognized him immediately as her husband's heir.
"Your Grace," he said silkily, bowing over her hand and favoring her with the full force of his dazzling smile, "you look even more lovely and sparkling than you did on your wedding day."
"Goodness," she said, laughing, "what a foolish thing to say. I am by no means lovely, sir, and if I sparkle, it is only because I am wearing the Eversleigh diamonds tonight. "
He smiled again. "Cousin, I see you are not to be flattered," he said, gazing with smiling gray eyes into hers. "But, believe me, it is so refreshing to see a lady who neither simpers nor affects boredom. You do enjoy life, do you not?"
Henry found herself warming to his friendly, open personality and to his handsome, youthful presence. "It would be foolish to pretend boredom," she said with some scorn… "Surely soon one would be bored in good earnest "