“Well, if you call that an invitation to drive out with me to Hampton Court, bringing her sister, and both her brothers —!”

“Odious, odious creature!” she said, trying not to laugh. “Very well, I’ll say no more. Not even thank-you! Or should I beg your pardon for having foisted myself and my brothers upon you today?”

“On the contrary! If you had cried off, I should have recalled a pressing engagement elsewhere. Charis is a most amiable girl, but not precisely needle-witted. I find it extremely difficult to converse with her — quite exhausting, in fact! She asks me what I mean, when I venture on a mild joke.”

She could not repress one of her involuntary gurgles, but she said, in swift defence of her sister: “She may not be needle-witted, but she has a great deal of commonsense, I assure you! Much more than I have, for she knows how to hold household, besides sewing exquisitely, and being able to dress a joint, and — oh, all manner of useful things!”

“Unfortunately, none of these virtues is called for when driving in the park.”

“She is certainly not a prattle-box!” retorted Frederica.

He laughed. “No, indeed!”

“I thought gentlemen did not care for females whose tongues ran on wheels!” she said.

“True, but between gabblemongering, and casting the whole burden of maintaining conversation upon one’s companion, there is a happy medium to be struck. No, no, don’t rip up! I will allow Charis to be a beauty beyond compare, besides being amiable, and virtuous! But — ” He paused, a crease between his brows.

“Well?” she demanded.

He raised his eyes from frowning contemplation of the gloves he held in one hand, and turned his head to look at her. He said, with unwonted gentleness: “My child, does it never occur to you that the future you have planned for her is not what she would herself choose?”

“No, how could that be? If I were scheming for what you would call a brilliant match — but I’m not! I promise you I’m not! I only wish to see her comfortably established: not to be obliged to make and scrape, but to be able to command the — the elegancies of life!” She saw his brows lift, and added: “You think such considerations don’t signify, perhaps. Recollect that you have never known what it means to be purse-pinched!”

“I haven’t,” he admitted. “I must bow to your better knowledge of your sister, but from the little I have observed I should have said that she would find more happiness in holding household than in cutting a dash. She told me, you know, that she preferred country balls to London ones.”

“Good gracious, did she?” Frederica exclaimed, quite astonished, “She must have been funning! Only think of her success! The bouquets that are sent her! The way our knocker is never quiet! Oh, you must be mistaken, cousin!”

He saw she was looking distressed, and replied lightly: “Very possibly. In any event, I see no reason why you should fall into dejection.”

“But if she doesn’t care for those things — doesn’t wish to make a creditable marriage — I shall have done it all for nothing!” she pointed out.

“Nonsense! You at least are enjoying London life.”

“That doesn’t signify!” she said impatiently. “As though I should have dreamt of dragging the boys to London to gratify my own wishes!”

“I daresay Jessamy would have preferred to have remained at home, but it won’t hurt him to see something of the world. As for Felix, he’s as happy as a grig! I’m a little curious, however, to know what it was that made you think that Charis shares your own tastes.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t think that. Only that it was shameful to keep her hidden away, or to allow her to marry young Rushbury, or any of the other men of our acquaintance, before she had had a season.” She hesitated, and then said rather shyly: “The thing is, you see, that she is so very persuadable! She is much inclined to agree to whatever is suggested to her, and although her principles are firm, her disposition is so yielding that I own it does sometimes sink my spirits!”

“I imagine it might — if she yields to the importunities of every callow youth who dangles after her! Does she fall in love with them?”

“I don’t think she falls in love with anyone,” replied Frederica candidly. “I mean, not more with one than with another! She is a most affectionate girl, and so kind-hearted that it is enough to cast anyone into high fidgets!”

“Universally benevolent, eh? Poor Frederica!”

“You may well say so! It is such a responsibility, you see. She is bound to marry someone, and only think how shocking it would be if I allowed her to be snapped up by a callow youth, as you phrase it, who wouldn’t know how to make her happy, or by some — some basket-scrambler!”

His lips twitched, but he replied gravely: “Shocking indeed! But — er — basket-scramblers are, in general, on the catch for heiresses.”

“Well, I didn’t mean that precisely,” she conceded. “And perhaps I ought not to say that Charis doesn’t fall in love with people. I’ve never done so myself, so I can’t judge. It doesn’t seem to me that she does.”

He had been listening to her with idly appreciative amusement, but this startled him. “Never fallen in love?” he repeated incredulously. “Never, Frederica?”

“No — that is, I don’t think so! I did once feel a tendre, but that was when I was young, and I recovered from it so quickly that I shouldn’t think I was truly in love. In fact, I am much disposed to think that if I hadn’t met him at a ball, when he was wearing regimentals, I shouldn’t have looked twice at him.” She added earnestly: “Do you know, cousin, I am strongly of the opinion that gentlemen should not be permitted to attend balls and assemblies rigged out in smart dress-uniforms? There is something about regimentals which is very deceiving. Fortunately, since I believe he was quite ineligible, I chanced to meet him the very next week, when he was not wearing regimentals, so I never had time to fall in love with him. It was the most disillusioning thing imaginable!”

“Who was this unfortunate?” he asked, his eyes warm with laughter.

“I don’t recall his name: it was so long ago!”

“Ah, yes!” he said sympathetically. “Before you became so old cattish!”

“Old cattish —!” She checked herself, and then said, with a rueful smile: “Oh, dear! I suppose that is what I am!”

“Do you indeed? Then let me tell you, my child, that when you talk of when you were young you are being foolish beyond permission!”

“No, I’m not! I’m four-and-twenty, and have been on the shelf for years!” she retorted.

“Alas!” he mocked.

“Nothing of the sort! Pray, what do you think would have become of them all if I were not on the shelf?”

“I neither know nor care.”

“Well, I do know, and I care very much! What’s more, I find it very agreeable to be an old maid, and rid of tiresome restrictions! If I were of marriageable. age, I couldn’t, for instance, be sitting here at this moment, talking to you without the vestige of a chaperon! Everyone would suppose me to be setting my cap at you, besides being fast! But if the Countess Lieven, or even Mrs Burrell, were to pass by at this moment they wouldn’t lift one of their detestably haughty eyebrows, any more than they would if I were Miss Berry!”

This comparison of herself with a lady who had some six-and-fifty years in her dish almost overset his lordship. He contrived to keep his countenance, but there was a distinct tremor in his voice when he said: “Very true! I wonder that that shouldn’t have occurred to me.”

“I daresay you never gave it a thought,” said Frederica kindly.

“No,” he acknowledged. “I didn’t!”

“Why should you? Gentlemen aren’t troubled with chaperons,” she said, somewhat wistfully contemplating this happy state.

“I assure you, I have frequently been troubled by them! Very irksome I have found them!”

The wistful look vanished in a twinkle. “What a shocking creature you are, cousin!” she said affably.

“Yes, an ugly customer! Didn’t I warn you of it?”

“Very likely, but you tell so many whiskers about yourself that I daresay I wasn’t attending.” She turned her head towards him, and said, with a smile in her frank eyes: “A great many people have warned me that you are excessively dangerous! You have a sad reputation, cousin! But to us you have been more than kind — in spite of not in the least wishing to befriend us! So I don’t give a button for what anyone says of you.”

He met her clear gaze, an expression hard to read in his own eyes. “Don’t you? But that puts me on my mettle!”

“I wish you will rid your mind of the notion that I am a wet-goose!” she said severely. “Instead of talking nonsense, tell me what you know of Sir Mark Lyneham!”

“What, is he another of Charis’s suitors? My dear child, he won’t see thirty again!”

“No, but — something she said to me the other day made me wonder if perhaps she wouldn’t be happier with an older man. Someone she could depend upon for guidance, and who would take care of her, and not come to cuffs with her if he chanced to be out of temper. From what I have seen, young husbands often fly into miffs, and that would never do for Charis! She has so much sensibility that even when the boys fall into a quarrel she is made miserable. And the mildest scold utterly sinks her spirits! Well — well, I think Sir Mark would be very gentle, don’t you?”

“Since I’ve no more than a nodding acquaintance with him, I can’t say. Judging him by myself, I should think he would murder her — or seek consolation elsewhere! I can think of few worse fates than to be married to a watering-pot.”