The Convenient Marriage

by Джорджетт Хейер

  He released her hand, and went towards the desk that stood in the window. Taking a key from his pocket he unlocked one of the drawers and pulled it open. Horatia blinked at him, utterly at a loss. He came back to her, and held out his hand. In the palm of it lay a powdered curl.

  Horatia gave a gasp, staring at it. Then she looked up, quite dumbfounded. “M-mine?” she stammered.

  “Yours, my dear.”

  “But I—but—How did you c-come by it?”

  He gave a little laugh. “I won it.”

  “Won it?” she repeated, uncomprehending. “How c-could you? Who—Rule, whom did you win it from?”

  “Why, from you, Horry. Whom else could I have won it from?”

  She clutched his wrist. “Rule, it—it was not you?” she squeaked.

  “But of course it was, Horry. Did you think I would let you lose to Lethbridge?”

  “Oh!” cried Horatia on a sob. “Oh, I am so th-thankful!” She let go of his wrist. “But I d-don’t understand. How did you know? Where were you?”

  “In the next box to yours.”

  “The m-man in the black d-domino? Then—then it was you who trod on my g-gown?”

  “You see, I had to contrive that you should be out of the way for a few moments,” he apologized.

  “Yes, of course,” nodded Horatia, quite appreciating this. “It was very c-clever of you, I think. And when I c-came back and thought your voice odd—that was you?”

  “It was. I flatter myself I imitated Lethbridge’s manner rather well. I admit that the noise those fiddles made helped me.”

  She was frowning again. “Yes, b-but I don’t understand quite. D-did Robert exchange d-dominoes with you?”

  A laugh lurked in his eyes. “It was not precisely an exchange. I—er—took his, and hid my own under a chair.”

  Horatia was regarding him keenly. “D-didn’t he mind?”

  “Now I come to think of it,” said the Earl pensively, “I am afraid I forgot to ask him.”

  She came a little nearer. “Marcus, did you m-make him give it to you?”

  “No,” replied the Earl. “I—er—took it.”

  “T-took it? But why did he let you?”

  “He really had no choice in the matter,” said his lordship.

  She drew a long breath. “You m-mean you took it by f-force? And didn’t he do anything? What became of him?”

  “I imagine that he went home,” said the Earl calmly.

  “W-went home! Well, I n-never heard of anything so poor-spirited!” exclaimed Horatia, with disgust.

  “He could hardly do anything else,” said the Earl. “Perhaps I ought to explain that the gentleman had the—er—misfortune to fall into the lily-pond.”

  Horatia’s lips parted. “Rule, d-did you push him in?” she asked breathlessly.

  “You see I had to dispose of him somehow,” said his lordship. “He was really quite de trop, and the lily-pond so conveniently situated.”

  Horatia gave up all attempt to preserve her gravity, and went off into a peal of laughter. “Oh, R-Rule, how famous! I w-wish I had seen it!” A thought occurred to her; she said quickly: “He w-won’t call you out, will he?”

  “Alas, I fear there is no likelihood of that,” Rule replied. “You see, Horry, you are my wife—a circumstance that makes Lethbridge’s position a little awkward.”

  She was not satisfied. “R-Rule, suppose he tries to do you a m-mischief?” she said anxiously.

  “I hardly think he would succeed,” said Rule, unconcerned.

  “W-well, I don’t know, but I wish you will take care, Marcus.”

  “I promise you you need have no fear for me, my dear.”

  She looked a trifle uncertain, but allowed the matter to drop. She said rather gruffly: “And perhaps you will tell Lady M-Massey that it was you all the time?”

  His mouth hardened. “Lady Massey,” he said deliberately, “need not trouble you—in any way, Horry.”

  She said with difficulty: “I think I would rather you told her, sir. She—she looked at me in a way that—in a way that—”

  “It will not be necessary for me to tell Lady Massey anything,” said Rule. “She will not, I think, mention what happened last night.”

  She glanced up at him, puzzled. “Did she know then that it was you?”

  He smiled rather grimly. “She did indeed know it,” he replied.

  “Oh!” Horatia digested this. “Were you going to t-tell me all this if I hadn’t t-told you?” she asked.

  “To be frank with you, Horry, no: I was not,” Rule answered. “You will have to forgive my stupidity. I did not think that you would tell me.”

  “W-well, I don’t think I should have told you if Lady M-Massey hadn’t seen me,” said Horatia candidly. “And I d-don’t suppose Robert would have explained it, because it m-makes him look quite ridiculous. And I w-wouldn’t have spoken to him again. Now I see, of course, that he did not behave so very b-badly after all, though I must say I d-don’t think he should have proposed that stake, do you?”

  “Most certainly I do not.”

  “No. Well, I won’t have him for a friend, Rule!” said Horatia handsomely. “You won’t m-mind if I am civil to him, will you?”

  “Not at all,” Rule replied. “I am civil to him myself.”

  “I d-don’t call it civil to push a person into a p-pond,” objected Horatia. She caught sight of the clock. “Oh, I said I would d-drive out with Louisa! Only look at the time!” She prepared to depart. “There is one thing that makes me very c-cross,” she said, frowning at him. “It was odious of you to l-let me win the second game!”

  He laughed, and caught her hands, pulling her towards him. “Horry, shall we consign Louisa to the devil?” he suggested.

  “N-no, I must go,” Horatia answered, suddenly shy. “B-besides, she hasn’t seen my landaulet!”

  The landaulet, the possession of which was enough to set any lady in the forefront of fashion, was glitteringly bright and new, having only just come from the coach-maker. Lady Louisa duly admired it, pronounced it to be extremely comfortable, and was so obliging as to say that she had not in the least minded being kept waiting over half an hour. Since she had shopping to do in Bond Street the coachman was instructed to drive there first, and the two ladies leaned back against the cushions and embarked on a discussion concerning the proper kind of ribbons to wear with a ball dress of green Italian taffeta for which Lady Louisa had just purchased two ells of stuff. By the time the rival merits of ribbons a Vinstant, a Vattention, au soupir de Venus, and a great many others had been fully weighed, the carriage drew up outside a fashionable milliner’s, and the ladies went in to select a branch of artificial flowers which Lady Louisa hoped to make bearable a hat she had bought two days ago, and quite detested already.

  It was naturally impossible for Horatia to visit a milliner without purchasing something on her own account, so when the flowers had been selected, she tried on a number of hats, and bought finally an enormous confection composed chiefly of stiff muslin in Trianon grey, which was labelled, not without reason, “Grandes Pretentions’. There was a collet monte gauze scarf in the same delectable shade of grey, so she bought that as well. A cap a la glaneuse caught her eye as she was about toJeave the shop, but she decided not to add that to her purchases, Lady Louisa having had the presence of mind to declare that it made her look rather prim.

  Horatia was just a little nervous of her sister-in-law, whom she suspected of disapproving of her, but Lady Louisa was behaving quite delightfully, and had not suggested by so much as a look that she thought it extravagant of Horry to buy that hat. She had even said that it was ravishing, so when they stepped into the landaulet again Horatia was feeling more friendly towards Louisa than she ever remembered to have felt before.

  This was precisely what Lady Louisa wanted. As the carriage moved forward she pointed her furled sunshade at the coachman’s back, and said: “My dear, how much does he hear of what one says?”

&n
bsp; “Oh, n-nothing!” Horatia assured her. “He is very d-deaf, you know. D-didn’t you notice how I have to shout at him?”

  “I fear it would take me an age to grow used to an open carriage,” sighed Lady Louisa. “But if he is really deaf—my dear, there was something I wanted to say to you. That is—no, I don’t want to say it at all, but I think I ought to, for I know Rule never would.”

  Horatia’s smile faded. “Indeed?” she said.

  “I detest people who interfere,” said her ladyship hastily, “but I do feel you have a right to know why you shouldn’t admit Lord Lethbridge to your friendship.”

  “I am aware, L-Louisa,” said Horatia stiffly. “His r-reputa-tion—”

  “It isn’t that, my love. Only he, and Rule, and I know, and Rule won’t tell you because he’d never give me away, bless him!”

  Horatia turned, round-eyed. “G-give you away, Louisa?” Lady Louisa sank her voice to a confidential murmur, and started bravely to tell her sister-in-law just what had happened in a mad spring-tide seven years ago.

  Chapter Thirteen

  At about the same moment that Lady Louisa was engaged laying bare her past history for Horatia’s inspection, Lord Lethbridge was being admitted into a house in Hertford Street. Declining the footman’s escort he walked up the stairs to the saloon overlooking the street, where Lady Massey was impatiently awaiting him.

  “Well, my dear,” he said, closing the door behind him. “I am flattered of course, but why am I summoned so urgently?”

  Lady Massey was staring out of the window but she wheeled about. “You had my billet?”

  He raised his brows: “If I had not, Caroline, I should not be here now,” he said. “It is not my practice to pay morning calls.” He put up his glass and critically surveyed her through it. “Allow me to tell you, my cherished one, that you are looking something less than your usual incomparable self. Now what can be amiss?”

  She took a step towards him. “Robert, what happened at Ranelagh last night,” she shot at him.

  His thin fingers tightened perceptibly about the shaft of his quizzing glass, his eyes, narrowed to mere slits, stared across at her. “At Ranelagh...” he repeated. “Well?”

  “Oh, I was there!” she replied. “I heard you speak to that little fool. You went into the pavilion. What happened then?”

  He had let his glass fall and drawn a snuff-box from his pocket. He tapped it with one finger and opened it. “And pray what is that to you, Caroline?” he asked.

  “Someone said a Scarlet Domino had gone into the smallest card-room. I saw no one there. I went out on to the terrace.

  I saw—you, as I thought—cut one of the bride’s curls off—oh, that doesn’t signify now! She ran out and I went in.” She stopped, pressing her handkerchief to her lips. “My God, it was Rule!” she said.

  Lord Lethbridge took a pinch of snuff, shook away the residue, and raised the pinch first to one nostril, then to the other. “How very disconcerting for you, my love!” he said blandly. “I’m sure you betrayed yourself.”

  She shuddered. “I thought it was you. I said—it makes no odds what I said. Then he took off his mask. I was near to swooning.”

  Lord Lethbridge shut the snuff-box and dusted his ruffles. “Very entertaining, Caroline. And I hope it will be a lesson to you not to interfere in my affairs. How I wish I had seen you!”

  She reddened angrily, and moved towards a chair. “You were always spiteful, Robert. But you were at Ranelagh last night, and you wore that scarlet domino. I tell you I saw no other there!”

  “There was no other,” replied Lethbridge coolly. He smiled, not very pleasantly. “What an instructive evening our dear Rule must have spent! And what a fool you are, Caroline! Pray, what did you say to him?”

  “It’s no matter,” she said sharply. “Perhaps you lent him your domino? It would be so like you!”

  “Now there you’re wrong,” he replied with great affability. “It would not be in the least like me. That domino was wrested from me.”

  Her lips curled. “You permitted it? You let him take your place with the girl? That is not very probable!”

  “I had no choice in the matter,” he said. “I was eliminated in the neatest possible way. Yes, I said “eliminated”, Caroline.”

  “You take it very calmly!” she remarked.

  “Naturally,” he replied. “Did you suppose I should gnash my teeth?”

  She plucked at the folds of her gown. “Well, are you satisfied? Do you mean to be done with the bride? Is it all over?”

  “As far as you are concerned, my dear, I should imagine that it is certainly all over,” he said reflectively. “Not, of course, that I was privileged to witness your meeting with Rule. But I can guess. I am quite acute, you know.”

  She abandoned the sarcastic attitude she had adopted, and stretched out her hand. “Oh, Robert, can you not see that I am upset?”

  “Easily,” he answered. “So are my plans upset, but I don’t permit that to put me in a taking.”

  She looked at him, wondering. He had an alert air, his eyes were bright and smiling. No, he was not one to give way to unprofitable emotion. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “If Rule means to stop the girl—”

  He snapped his fingers. “I said my plans were upset. I believe it to be quite true.”

  “You don’t seem to care,” she remarked.

  “There are always more plans to be made,” he said. “Not for you,” he added kindly. “You may as well make up your mind to that. I am really distressed for you, my dear. Rule must have been so useful.” He eyed her for a moment, and his smile broadened. “Oh, did you love him, Caroline? That was unwise of you.”

  She got up. “You’re abominable, Robert,” she said. “I must see him. I must make him see me.”

  “Do, by all means,” Lethbridge said cordially. “I wish you may plague him to death; he would dislike that. But you won’t get him back, my poor dear. Very well do I know Rule. Would you like to see him humbled? I promise you you shall.”

  She walked away to the window. “No,” she said indifferently.

  “Odd!” he commented. “I assure you, with me it has become quite an obsession.” He came towards her. “You are not very good company today, Caroline. I shall take my leave of you. Do make Rule a scene and then I will come to see you again, and you shall tell me all about it.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “Au revoir, my love!” he said sweetly, and went out humming a little tune under his breath.

  He was on his way home to Half-Moon Street when my Lady Rule’s landaulet turned a corner of the road and came at a smart pace towards him. Horatia, seated alone now, saw him at once, and seemed undecided. Lethbridge swept off his hat and stood waiting for the carriage to draw up.

  Something in that calm assumption that she would order her coachman to stop appealed to Horatia. She gave the necessary command and the landaulet came to a standstill beside Lethbridge.

  One look at her was enough to assure Lethbridge that she knew just what had happened at Ranelagh. The grey eyes held a gleam of amusement. It annoyed him but he would not let that appear.

  “Alas, the jealous husband came off with the honours!” he said.

  “He w-was clever, wasn’t he?” Horatia agreed.

  “But inspired!” Lethbridge said. “My damp fate was particularly apt. Make him my compliments, I beg of you. I was certainly caught napping.”

  She thought that he was taking his humiliating defeat very well, and replied a little more warmly: “We were b-both caught napping, and p-perhaps it was as well, sir.”

  “I blame myself,” he said meditatively. “Yet I don’t know how I could have guessed... If I had but been aware of Caroline Massey’s presence I might have been more on my guard.”

  The arrow struck home as he knew it would. Horatia sat up very straight. “Lady Massey?”

  “Oh, did you not see her! No, I suppose not. It seems that she and Rule laid their heads together to plan our
undoing. We must admit they succeeded admirably.”

  “It’s n-not t-true!” Horatia stammered.

  “But—” He broke off artistically, and bowed. “Why, of course not, ma’am!”

  She stared fiercely at him. “Why did you say that?”

  “My dear, I beg a thousand pardons! Don’t give it another thought! Depend upon it, it was no such thing.”

  “Who told you?” she demanded.

  “No one told me,” he said soothingly. “I merely thought that the fair lady knew a vast deal of what happened last night. But I am sure I was wrong.”

  “You w-were wrong!” she said. “I shall ask R-Rule!”

  He smiled. “An excellent notion, ma’am, if it will set your mind at rest.”

  She said rather pathetically: “You do think he will say it was n-nonsense, don’t you?”

  “I am quite sure he will,” said Lethbridge, laughing, and stood back to allow the coachman to drive on.

  He flattered himself he was an adept at shooting tiny poisonous shafts; certainly that one had gone home. While she assured herself it was a lie Horatia could not help remembering, first Lady Massey’s cruel little smile, and second, Rule’s own words: She did indeed know. And of course now Lethbridge had put her in mind of it she realized that whether the tale was true or not Rule would be bound to deny it. She did not believe it, no, but she could not help thinking about it. She could not rid herself of the idea that as a rival to the beautiful Lady Massey she stood no chance of success. Crosby Drelincourt had been the first to tell her in his oblique fashion that Lady Massey was Rule’s mistress, but it was to Theresa Maulfrey that she was indebted for further information. Mrs Maulfrey had never liked her young cousin very much, but she had made a determined attempt to cultivate her friendship as soon as she became a Countess. Unfortunately, Horatia had no more liking for Theresa than Theresa had for her, and perfectly understood the meaning of that lady’s sudden amiability. As Charlotte had so shrewdly guessed, Mrs Maulfrey had tried to patronize Horatia and when the gay Countess showed plainly that she stood in no need of patronage she had found herself quite unable to resist the temptation of saying a great many spiteful things. On the subject of Rule and his loves she spoke as a woman of the world, and as such carried weight. Horatia was left with the impression that Rule had been for years the Massey’s slave. And, as Mrs Maulfrey so sapiently remarked, a man did not change his mode of life for a chit in her teens. Mrs Maulfrey spoke of him admiringly as an accomplished lover: Horatia had no notion of swelling the ranks of his conquests. She supposed—for gentlemen were known to be strange in these matters—that he would be quite capable of making love to his wife in the interval between dalliance with widows and opera-dancers. However, since she had married him on the tacit understanding that he might amuse himself as he pleased, she could hardly object now.