There were a good many carriages in the road, and quite a number of modish-looking strollers, but it was not until Grosvenor Street was reached that Venetia had the satisfaction of seeing anyone with whom she was acquainted. She then recognized in an astonished countenance a lady whom she had met in Cavendish Square, and bowed slightly. Sir Lambert, always very polite, raised the beaver from his pomaded locks, and bowed too. The Cumberland corset which he wore creaked protestingly, but Venetia was quite amazed to see with what majestic grace so portly a man could perform this courtesy.
By this time they were abreast of a jeweller’s shop, and Sir Lambert, struck by a happy thought, said: “You know, my dear, I think, if you should not dislike it, we will take a look in here. Poor Aurelia is subject to fits of dejection, and there’s no doubt she was a trifle overset. You shall help me to choose some little thing to divert her mind!”
She was very willing, and considerably entertained to discover that his interpretation of “some little thing” proved to be a diamond pendant. Aurelia, he said, was partial to diamonds. It did not seem to Venetia that he stood in much need of guidance from her in making his choice, but she soon found that he liked to have his taste approved, so she stopped preferring any of the pendants which did not take his fancy, and dutifully admired each one of the three which obviously appealed to him. The choice at last made, he demanded to be shown some brooches, and here Venetia was allowed to have her way. She could not prefer an opulent brooch made up of sapphires and diamonds to a very pretty one of aquamarines. He did his best to persuade her that the aquamarines were mere trumpery, but when she laughed at him, and insisted that they were charming, he said: “Well, well, if you think so indeed I will buy it, for you have excellent taste, my dear, and I daresay you know best!”
They emerged from the shop to find Edward Yardley standing with his hands behind his back, closely studying a tray of rings set out in one of the windows. He turned his head just as Venetia tucked her hand in Sir Lambert’s proffered arm, and ejaculated in a voice loud enough to make a passer-by look over his shoulder at him: “Venetia!”
“Good-morning, Edward!” she said, with what he felt to be brazen calm. “I am very glad to see you, but pray don’t make the whole street a present of my name! Sir, will you allow me to present Mr. Yardley to you? He is an old friend of mine, from Yorkshire. Edward, you are not acquainted, I fancy, with my father-in-law—Sir Lambert Steeple!”
“How-de-do?” said Sir Lambert, giving Edward two fingers. “Aha, you wish me at Jericho, don’t you? Well, I don’t blame you, but I don’t give up my prize! No, no, you may glare as much as you choose, but this little hand shall stay where it is!”
Edward might be said to have been taking full advantage of the permission so genially accorded him. As he spoke Sir Lambert patted the little hand on his arm in a fatherly way, and smiled down into Venetia’s merry eyes in a manner so far removed from fatherly that Edward was quite unable to contain himself, but said with a good deal less than his usual grave deliberation: “I am on my way to Cavendish Square, sir, and will escort Miss Lanyon!”
Sir Lambert was amused. His prominent blue eyes took Edward in from top to toe, missing no detail that marked him as the country squire of comfortable fortune but no touch of town bronze. This, then, was the inevitable pretendant, and, judging by the familiarity with which Venetia addressed him, he enjoyed her favour. Sir Lambert thought she might have done better for herself, but he wasn’t an ill-looking young fellow, and no doubt she knew her own business best. He looked down at her, a roguish gleam in his eye. “Shall we let him go along with us, my dear, or shall we give him the go-by? What do you say?”
This was too much for Edward. His countenance was already unbecomingly flushed, for not only had his wrath been aroused by the sight of Venetia with her hand in Sir Lambert’s arm, but his self-esteem was smarting under that experienced roue’s jovial but faintly contemptuous, scrutiny. Sir Lambert might be nearly double Edward’s age, but Edward resented his lazy assurance, and still more did he resent being regarded by Sir Lambert as a jealous stripling. He glared more fiercely than ever, and said with awful civility: “Miss Lanyon is obliged to you, sir, but will not put you to the trouble of escorting her farther!”
Sir Lambert chuckled. “Yes, yes, I see how it is! You would like to have it out with me at dawn! That’s the dandy! I like to see a young fellow ready to sport his canvas! Lord, I was the devil of a fire-eater myself in my day, but that was before you were born, my boy! You can’t call me out, you know! Well, well, it’s too bad of me to roast you! Do you go along with us to the top of the street, and then, if my pretty little daughter likes, you may take her the rest of the way by yourself.”
Edward nearly choked. Before he could utter whatever rash words surged to his tongue Venetia intervened, saying in a tone of cool amusement: “Oswald Denny to the life! My dear Edward, do not you make a cake of yourself, I beg!”
“And who,” demanded Sir Lambert, pleasantly intrigued, “is Oswald Denny, eh? Oh, you may look demurely, but you don’t bamboozle me, puss! Yes, yes, I can see what a twinkle you have in your eye! I’ll be bound you have all the cockerels in Yorkshire squaring up to each other!”
She laughed, but turned it off, directing the conversation into channels less exacerbating to Edward. He, determined not to leave her with Sir Lambert and unable to wrest her forcibly away from that elderly buck, had nothing to do but to fall in beside her, and to reply, in stiff monosyllables, to such remarks as were from time to time addressed to him.
Arrived at the top of the street, Venetia stopped, and, withdrawing her hand from Sir Lambert’s arm, turned to face him, saying, with her friendliest smile: “Thank you, sir. You are a great deal too good to have come so far with me, and it would be quite infamous of me to drag you any farther. I am so very much obliged to you—and you were perfectly right: the Indian muslin will make up much better than the sprig!”
She held out her hand to him, and he clasped it warmly, sweeping off his curly-brimmed and shining beaver with an air many a budding dandy would have envied. She found that he was pressing into her hand the smaller of the two jeweller’s cases, and was for a moment bewildered. “But, sir—!”
He closed her fingers over the little box. “There, it’s nothing! A trumpery thing, but you seemed to like it the best! You will let me give you a little present—a trifle from your father-in-law!”
“Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “Indeed, sir, you mustn’t! Pray—!”
“No, no, take it, my dear! You will oblige me very much by taking it! I never had a daughter, you know, but if I had I should have wished for one like you, with your sweet face, and your pretty ways!”
She was very much touched, and regardless alike of the passers-by and Edward’s speechless anger stood on tiptoe to kiss Sir Lambert’s cheek, one hand on his broad shoulder. “And I wish very much that you had been my father, sir,” she said. “I should have loved you much more than ever I loved my own, for you are a great deal kinder! Thank you! indeed I will take it, and remember you whenever I wear it, I promise you!”
He returned her embrace, putting his arm round her, and giving her a hug. “That’s a good gal!” he said. He then dug Edward in the ribs with the head of his cane, and said, with a slight lapse from his parental mood: “Well, you young dog, you may take her now, but if I were ten years younger damme if I wouldn’t cut you out!”