“How very well they rub along,” Dammler said as they began to walk away. “My cousin spoke last night of going up to London next Season. I think Elmtree has been getting to her.”

“Hussy. I should stay behind to protect my uncle. I was never before allowed to abandon him to such peril as a titled widow. But she may find herself at point non plus. He speaks of buying up a little cottage in Bath.”

“Do you suppose we’ve unwittingly brought about a match?”

“Let us wait and see if the magnum opus pleases. She may not like having a button nose and a sylph-like figure.”

“She can console herself with the family crest.”

“I don’t know that it will be a consolation. Uncle has never painted a lion rampant before. He will likely turn it into a pussy cat, and don’t think for a moment he will disfigure the unicorn by including the horn. That will be removed entirely.” She strayed behind a bunch of thorn bushes as she talked, and her companion pointed out that it might be better if they stayed in sight of their relations.

“Why?” she asked.

“My cousin is a Trojan for propriety,” he said, but his only reason for mentioning it was to let her see his own new awareness of decorum.

It seemed so foolish to Prudence, after the degree of latitude pertaining to their former intercourse, that she laughed outright. “I believe the Divines have got to you, Dammler. I fully expect to see you standing up to take the reading at the Abbey next Sunday.” She scampered out of the protection of her uncle, and Dammler followed at no dragging pace, but intent on being punctilious to every minutia of respect.

“You will be a sad disappointment to your friends if you carry on so in London,” Prudence warned him with a teasing smile. She did not like this new Dammler nearly so well as the old, and was determined to change him back.

“I mean to discontinue association with such friends as would be disappointed,” he answered carefully.

“Do you indeed? So I am to be cut, am I?”

He stopped walking and turned to face her. “I am trying to be a perfectly honourable and respectable gentleman, Prudence, and you are not of much help.”

She pouted. “You did not treat me so formally before. Why must you change?”

“To please you. Why do you think I languish in that barracks of a place my cousin has, with no agreeable company, going to lectures and discussions on the Reformed calendar, but to please you?”

“Please me? I wouldn’t do such things myself. Why should I expect it of you?”

“Ihave a past to expiate.”

“You will have a worse future to expiate as well if you carry on in this way much longer. I see you chafing at the bit to laugh and joke and so on.”

“Especially so on.” The temptation was too much for him. He grabbed her, first by the hands, but soon had both arms around her in a strong grip and was trying to kiss her.

At twenty-four years of age, Prudence had never been in a man’s arms before. Never had been kissed. She had wanted to turn Dammler back to his old funning self; she had never expected this violent result, and pushed him off in surprise.

“That was not called for,” she said, gasping for breath.

“Don’t tease me if you don’t want me to reciprocate. I'm too new at respectability to withstand this repeated temptation. You’re flaunting yourself at me, Prudence. With those low-cut gowns and fast talk. If you really want me to be worthy, don’t do it.”

“I am not flaunting myself,” she replied in indignation.

“You’ve been egging me on to misbehave since the moment I came here. I came determined to be good, respectable, to please you. I would not have borne what I have these past two weeks but for you, and you repay me by trying at every chance to make me break my resolve, so you can throw in my face what a rake I am.”

“I did not.”

“You did, my girl, and you wouldn’t be so angry if it weren’t true.”

“How was I to know why you were acting so unlike yourself? You never said a word to me.”

“And you, who know me better than I know myself, couldn’t imagine why? Why did you think I went flying off to Reading to make an ass of myself in front of you and Seville, green with jealousy, if not because I loved you.”

She opened her mouth to answer, closed it again, and finally said, “Well, why didn’t you stay then?”

“You made it perfectly clear you had no use for me. I asked you if I could come on with you to Bath, but you didn’t want any disreputable companions accompanying you, so I tried to change myself, to become whatever it is you think you want. Well I'm finished with it. I'm not a saint, and I can’t become one with you cutting me at every effort I make. You didn’t like my old self, and you don’t seem to like the new one any better. You delight in torturing me. If you’ve turned into a flirt, be one full-time. I like it very well, but don’t slip back into being an outraged spinster the minute I respond.”

“I am not a flirt!”

“You’re giving a fair imitation of one. There is a name for girls who lead men on, only to swat them down at the last minute. I shan’t sully your virginal ears with it, but you’ll hear it from someone soon enough if you go on in this way.”

“Why stick at telling me then, since I am so clearly lost to all sense of propriety?"

“You’d like to have something else to beat me over the head with, but I’m on to you now, Miss Mallow. You knew all along what I was. I may have been a damned fool, but I was never a hypocrite.”

“No, not before you came here with a poker up your spine and this pompous air of self-righteousness. You- you of all people, to be reading me a lecture in morals!”

"The tables are turned, are they not?”

“I never lectured you, much as you deserved it.”

“Indeed you did not! You enjoyed leading me on to reveal every last shred of my shame, while you sat with your mouth pursed and to ask me another leading question. But you’ve led me on for the last time. This is the end of it.”

A clap of thunder pealed, and a flash of lightning rent the sky. These ominous signs were followed by a sprinkling of rain, and the argument had to be discontinued while they ran back to the carriage. No further squabbling was possible with the Dowager and Clarence present. They elected to continue the painting session at the Countess’ home, and Prudence in a tight voice said that she would like to be left at Laura Place.

She was sure she had lost Dammler. She considered his lecture, and while it angered her, she had to admit there was some justice in it. He had been behaving very properly since coming to Bath, and she had been chaffing him. In fact, the more proper he had become, the harder she had tried to make him stop. And he loved her, he had even said that, and she hadn’t known how to turn it to her advantage. She may have been trying to flirt, but she realized she had a long way to go. How could she have stood there and heard him tell her he loved her and managed to send him away angry? “This is the end of it.”

Dammler went home to Pulteney Street even more perturbed. As usual, he had said too much, too violently, been too quick-made a fool of himself. There was perhaps some justification in what he had said, but it was no way to go about conciliating an angry lady. He hadn’t the patience to hang on in this shilly-shallying manner. Wise Prudence had seen through him, knew he was no stodgy worthy, and didn’t care for his pretense. She had liked him best as himself, so he would be himself. He couldn’t go on pretending to be what he was not for the rest of his life.

Dammler went into town, ordered six dozen red roses to be delivered to her that day, and a dozen dozen the next, and sent off to the Abbey for the family engagement ring. He then went to his cousin’s home and sat in the Purple Saloon, watching the rain glide down the windows.

The first six dozen red roses were delivered to Laura Place, where they caused a pleasant stir.

“He means to do it up proper this time,” Clarence said. “He will be here today if he has to drive all night.”

“He is only staying at Pulteney Street,” Prudence reminded him.

“Aye, so he is. He should be here any minute.”

Looking out at the sodden earth, Prudence didn’t expect he would come that day, nor did he. This is a little reminder to me, she smiled to herself. When a gentleman takes to sending an excess of flowers and diamonds, he means no good. She looked carefully among the flowers for a diamond, but there was none. He is telling me that what I deserve after my flirtation is a carte blanche, but still it was not what she expected. She had no dread on that score. The only question in her mind was when he would arrive in person. When the dozen dozen roses arrived the next morning, Mrs. Mallow was thrown into quite a tizzy.

“What can he mean by this?” she asked her daughter. “It seems so very odd, but no doubt it is some sort of a joke.”

“Yes, it is a joke. Mama,” Prudence told her.

Mrs. Mallow looked at her daughter’s satisfied smile, and though she did not see the humour of the situation, but only the foolish extravagance of more flowers than they had vases for, she was happy. At three o’clock Clarence returned from the second sitting, bringing the canvas with him, two-thirds finished. Already a snub-nosed Mona Lisa was taking shape, her orange cheeks standing out against the background of unvariegated green. There was only the family crest to be done, and a few finishing touches. Dammler came along with him.

Prudence, half-hidden behind a tub of roses, asked how the Countess liked her painting.

“She is well pleased with it,” Clarence asserted. “I saw that poor shabby thing Romney did. Pitiful. Made her look like a parrot Well, well, I see we are bathed in roses. Madrid in town?”