But she liked him very well, and was happy to meet him again, and at once presented him to Mrs Floore.

Mrs Floore came as a shock to him, for although he had frequently heard his mama stigmatize Lady Laleham as a vulgar creature he had paid very little heed to a stricture he had heard often before, and which generally denoted merely that Mrs Monksleigh had quarrelled with whichever lady was in question. He had expected nothing as unrefined as Mrs Floore, who was arrayed in a gown of such a powerful shade of purple that he almost blinked. However, he had very good manners, and he quickly concealed his astonishment, and made her a civil bow.

Mrs Floore was inclined to favour him. She liked young persons, and Gerard struck her as a pretty-behaved beau, dressed as fine as fivepence, and plainly of the first respectability. But her shrewd gaze had not failed to perceive the ardour in his face when he had come hurrying up to Emily, and she determined not to encourage him. It would never do, she thought, for him to be dangling after Emily in a lovelorn way calculated to set Bath tongues wagging. There was no saying but what Emily’s grand Marquis might not like it above half, if it came to his ears. So when she heard him asking Emily if she would be at the Lower Rooms that evening, she interposed, saying that Emily must stay at home to recruit her strength for the Gala night at the Sydney Gardens on the following evening. Gerard, on his guard from the instant he realized this amazing old lady’s relationship to his adored, took this with perfect propriety. It was Emily who exclaimed against the  prohibition, but so much more in the manner of a child denied a treat than in that of a damsel bent on flirting with a personable admirer, that Mrs Floore relented a little, and said that they would see. It naturally did not occur to her that Emily could have a tendre for any other man than her betrothed, but she was well aware that Emily was apt (in the most innocent way) to give rather more encouragement than was seemly in her situation to her admirers. It was all very well for the chit to talk in that misleadingly confiding way of hers to a steady young fellow like Ned Goring, whom one could trust to take no liberties; quite another for her to be giving this smart town sprig to think that she would welcome a flirtation.

But when, after Gerard had escorted the two ladies back to Beaufort Square, very politely giving Mrs Floore his arm, she told Emily that it would not do for her to be too friendly with such a handsome young beau, Emily looked surprised, and said: “But he is such a splendid dancer, Grandmama! Must I not stand up with him? Why ought I not? He is quite the thing, you know!”

“I daresay he’s one of the first stare, pet, but would his lordship like it? That’s what you ought to think of, only you’re such a flighty little puss—well, there!”

“Oh, but Lord Rotherham could have not the least objection!” Emily assured her. “Gerard is his ward. They are cousins.”

That, of course, put a very different complexion on the matter, and made Mrs Floore exclaim against Emily for not having told her so in time for her to have invited Mr Monksleigh to dine with them. But that was soon rectified. She took Emily to the ball, and there was Mr Monksleigh, nattier than ever in evening dress, his ordered locks glistening with Russia Oil, and the many swathes of his neckcloth obliging him to hold his head very much up. Several young ladies watched his progress across the room with approval, most of the gentlemen with tolerant amusement, and Mr Guynette, who had attempted unavailingly to present him to a lady lacking a partner for the boulanger, with strong disapprobation.

Gerard was in no mood for dancing, but since there seemed to be no other way of detaching Emily from her grandmother, he led her into the set that was just forming, saying urgently: “I must see you alone! How may it be contrived?”

She shook her head wonderingly. “Grandmama would not like it! Besides, everyone would stare!”

“Not here! But we must meet! Emily, I have only just learnt of this—this engagement you have entered into! Have been forced into! I know you cannot—I have come all the way from Scarborough to see you! Quickly, where may we meet?”

Her hand trembled in his; she whispered: “Oh—! I don’t know! It is so dreadful! I am very unhappy!”

He caught his breath. “I knew it!”

There was no time for more; they were obliged to take their places in the set; to school their countenances; and to exchange such conversation as was suitable to the occasion. When the movement of the dance brought them together, Gerard said: “Will your grandmama permit me to visit her?”

“Yes, but pray take care! She said I must not be too friendly, only then I told her you were Lord Rotherham’s ward, and so she will ask you to dine with us, and go to the Sydney Gardens tomorrow. Oh, Gerard, I do not know what to do!”

He squeezed her fingers. “I have come to save you!”

She found nothing to smile at in this announcement, but threw him a look brimful of gratitude and admiration as they parted again, and waited hopefully to know how her rescue was to be accomplished.

She had to remain in suspense until the following evening; and when he was at last able to disclose his plans to her, she found them disappointing.

After dining in Beaufort Square, and taking immense pains to ingratiate himself with Mrs Floore, Gerard accompanied the ladies to the Sydney Gardens, where various entertainments, ranging from illuminations to dancing, were provided for Bath’s visitors. Here, by great good fortune, a crony of Mrs Floore’s was encountered, who had been staying at Lyme Regis for some weeks. The two ladies naturally had much gossip to exchange; and when they were fairly launched in intimate conversation, Gerard seized the opportunity to beg permission to take Emily to look at the waterfalls, which had all been illuminated for the occasion. “I will take good care of her, ma’am!” he promised.

Mrs Floore nodded indulgently. She still thought him an agreeable youth, but he would have been affronted had he known how swiftly and how accurately she had summed him up. He was, in her estimation, a harmless boy, scarcely fledged as yet, but anxious to convince everyone that he was a buck of the first head. She had been much amused, at dinner, by the carelessness with which he related anecdotes of ton; and when, encouraged by a good nature which he mistook for respect, he played off a few of the airs of an exquisite, her eyes twinkled appreciatively, and she decided that however much pride and sensibility the Marquis might have he could scarcely take exception to Emily’s accepting the escort of so callow a young gentleman.

Since two or three thousand persons were in the Gardens, it was some little time before Gerard could find a vacant and sufficiently secluded nook to appropriate. All his mind was concentrated on this, but Emily, who possessed the faculty of living only in the immediate present, kept on stopping to exclaim at Merlin grottoes, or cascades, or festoons of coloured lanterns. However, he eventually discovered a discreet arbour, persuaded her to enter it, and to sit down upon the rustic bench there. Seating himself beside her, he clasped her mittened hand, and uttered: “Tell me the whole!”

She was not articulate, and found this command hard to obey. Her account of her engagement was neither fluent nor coherent, but by dint of frequently interpolated questions he was able to piece the story together, if not entirely to understand the circumstances which had induced her to enter into an engagement with a man for whom she felt not a scrap of affection. He believed that her mother’s tyranny accounted for all, and failed to perceive that the prospect of becoming a Marchioness had strongly attracted her. Nor had he the smallest suspicion that her sentiments towards himself had undergone a change.

She had been taken quite by surprise. She had had no notion that Rotherham had a decided preference for her, for although he had been her host at the Rotherham House ball, it had been Mrs Monksleigh whose name had figured on the invitation card, and she had quite thought that he had had nothing to say in the matter.

“He never troubled himself at all, that you may be sure of!” said Gerard. “I made Mama invite you!”

“Oh, did you? How very kind that was of you! I never enjoyed anything half as much, did you? It was a magnificent ball! I had no notion how grand Rotherham House is! So many handsome saloons, and hundreds of footmen, and that huge crystal chandelier in the ballroom, sparkling like diamonds, and your Mama standing at the head of the great staircase—”

“Yes, yes, I know!” Gerard said, a trifle impatiently. “But Rotherham didn’t even solicit you to dance, did he?”

“Oh, no! He only said how do you do to me, and of course I had no expectation of his asking me to stand up with him, with so many grand people there! In fact, until we—we became engaged, I never did dance with him, except that once, at Quenbury. We were for ever meeting, at parties, you know, and he was always very civil to me, and sometimes he paid me a compliment, only—only—I don’t know how it is, but when he says a thing that sounds pretty, he does so in a way that—well, in a way that makes one feel that he is being satirical!”

“You need not tell me that!” said Gerard, with a darkling look. “When did he commence making up to you?”

“Oh, never! In fact, I had no notion he was disposed to like me, for whenever he talked to me it was in a quizzing way, which put me quite out of countenance. So you may imagine my astonishment when Mama told me he had offered for me! Mama says he behaved with the greatest propriety, exactly as he ought.”