Giving herself a mental shake, she made her way to Mrs Stinchcombe’s party, and greeted that lady with her usual smiling calm. But before she had time to exchange greetings with the rest of the company she suffered a set-back. Lucilla cried impulsively: “Oh, Miss Wychwood, do pray tell Mr Kilbride that we shall be happy to see him at the party! I ventured to invite him, for you told me I might invite anyone I chose, and I know he is a friend of yours! Only he says he dare not come without an invitation from you!”

It was at this point that Miss Wychwood realized that taking charge of Lucilla was not likely to be the sinecure she had blithely expected it to be. It was impossible to repudiate the invitation so innocently given, but she did her best. She said: “Certainly, if he cares to come, I shall be happy to include him.”

“I do care to come!” he said promptly, moving forward to bow over her hand. He raised his head, smiling wickedly at her, and added softly: “Why don’t you wish me to, most adored lady? Surely you must know that I am an excellent man to have at a party!”

“Oh, yes!” she said lightly. “Amusing rattles always are! But I don’t think mine is going to be the sort of party you enjoy. In fact, I fancy you would find it a very insipid one—almost a children’s party!”

“Oh, in that case you can’t possibly exclude me! I am at my best at children’s parties, and will engage myself to organize any number of parlour games to keep your youthful guests entertained. Charades, for instance, or Blind Man’s Buff!”

“Don’t be so absurd!” she said, laughingly. “If you come, I shall expect you to entertain the dowagers!”

“Oh, there will be no difficulty about that! I have even succeeded in entertaining my grandmother, and that, you know, calls for great skill in the art!”

“You know, you are a sad scamp!” she told him, as she moved away from him.

She found that Mr Beckenham had joined the group, and it occurred to her, as she shook hands with him, that Mr Kilbride’s presence at her rout would be less marked if she invited Mr Beckenham too. He was considerably younger than Kilbride, but his easy address, and decided air of fashion made him appear to be older than his years. He was accompanied by a very dashing Tulip, whom he presented as Jonathan Hawkesbury: a friend of his who had toddled down from London to spend a few days at Beckenham Court, so Miss Wychwood promptly included him in her invitation. She did not form any very high opinion of his mental powers, but his manners were extremely polite, and his raiment so exquisite that he was bound, she thought, to lend lustre to her party. Both gentlemen accepted her invitation, Mr Hawkesbury expressing himself as being very much obliged to her, and Harry saying, with his careless grace: “By Jove, yes! We shall be delighted to come to your party, dear Miss Annis! Will there be dancing?”

Miss Wychwood rapidly revised her plans. She had engaged a small orchestra to discourse soft music to her guests, but she now began to think that the musicians might well strike up a country dance or two, and perhaps—daring thought!—a waltz. That might shock some of the starchier dowagers, for although the waltz was becoming increasingly fashionable in London it was never danced at any of the Bath Assemblies. But it would undoubtedly raise her party from the doldrums of the dull and ordinary to the ranks of the unexpectedly modish. She said: “Well, that will depend on circumstances! It is to be a rout-party, not a ball, but I daresay it will end as—not a ball, but an impromptu hop.”

Mr Beckenham applauded this suggestion, and added the information that his somewhat inarticulate friend sported a very pretty toe. Mr Hawkesbury disclaimed, but expressed with great gallantry the hope that he might be granted the honour of leading his hostess on to the floor. Miss Wychwood then detached herself from the group, with the intention of enlarging her party by the inclusion of Major Beverley, who had just entered the Pump Room, in attendance on his mama. He was not a dancing-man, but he was of much the same age as Denis Kilbride, and, from the circumstance of his having had the misfortune to lose an arm at the sanguinary engagement at Waterloo, was an object of awed interest to the damsels who would be present at the party. Having successfully enrolled him, she strolled round the room in search of further prey. She found two; and it suddenly occurred to her that her object was not so much to provide Lucilla with a counter-attraction, as to hide Mr Kilbride from Mr Carleton’s penetrating eyes. This was so ridiculous that it made her laugh inwardly; but it was also vexing: what concern was it of his whom she chose to invite to her house? She didn’t give a straw for his opinion, and wouldn’t waste another thought on it.

Nothing was seen of him for the following two days, but towards evening on the third day he called in Camden Place to inform Lucilla that he had procured a well-mannered mare for her to ride. “My groom is bringing her down, and will look after her,” he said. “I’ll tell him to come here for orders every day.”

“Oh!”squeaked Lucilla joyfully. “Thank you, sir! I am excessively obliged to you! Where does she come from? When shall I be able to ride her? What sort of a mare is she? Shall I like her?”

“I trust so. She’s a gray, carries a good head, and jumps off her hocks. She comes from Lord Warrington’s stables, and is accustomed to carrying a lady, but I bought her at Tattersall’s, Warrington having no further use for her since his wife’s death. You may ride her the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh, famous! capital!” she cried, clapping her hands. “Was that why I thought you must have left Bath? Did you go all the way to London to buy me a horse of my very own? I am—I am truly grateful to you! Miss Wychwood has lent me her own favourite mare, and she is the sweetest-goer imaginable, but I don’t like to be borrowing her mare, even though she says she doesn’t wish to ride herself.”

“No, nor do I like it,” he said. He put up his glass, surveying through it Mr Elmore, who had risen at his entrance, but was standing bashfully in the background. “You, I fancy, must be young Elmore,” he said. “In which case, I have to thank you for having taken care of my niece, I believe.”

“Yes, but—but it was nothing, sir!” stammered Ninian. “I mean, the only thing I could do was to accompany her, for I—I was unable to persuade her to return to Chartley, say what I would, which, of course, was what she should have done!”

“Heavy on hand, was she? You have my sympathy!”

Ninian grinned shyly at him. “I should rather think she was!” he said. “Well, she was in one of her hey-go-mad humours, you know!”

“I am thankful to say that I don’t,” replied Mr Carleton caustically.

“I was not!” declared Lucilla, taking instant umbrage. “And as for taking care of me, I was very well able to take care of myself!”

“No, you weren’t!” retorted Ninian. “You didn’t even know how to get to Bath, and if I hadn’t caught you—”

“If you hadn’t meddled I should have hired a chaise in Amesbury,” she said grandly. “And it wouldn’t have lost a wheel, like your odious gig!”

“Oh, would you indeed? And have found yourself without a feather to fly with when you reached Bath! Don’t be such a widgeon!”

Miss Wychwood, entering the room at that moment, put a stop to further hostilities, by saying in her calm way: “How many more times am I to tell you both that I will not have you pulling caps in my drawing-room? How do you do, Mr Carleton?”

“Oh, Miss Wychwood, whatever do you think?” cried Lucilla eagerly. “He has bought me a mare—a gray one, too, which is exactly what I should have chosen, because I love gray horses, don’t you? And he says his own groom is to look after her, so that now you will be able to ride with us!”

“Redeeming yourself in your ward’s eyes?” Miss Wychwood said quizzically, shaking hands with him.

“No: in yours, I hope!”

Startled, her eyes flew to his face, but swiftly sank again. Considerably shaken, she turned away, for there could be no mistaking the glow in his hard eyes: Mr Carleton, that noted profligate, had conceived a strange, unaccountable fancy for a maiden lady, of advanced years, who was no straw damsel, but a lady of the first consideration, and of unquestioned virtue. Her first thought, that he meant to fascinate her into accepting a carte blanche from him, occurred only to be dismissed: Mr Carleton might be a libertine, but he was not a fool. Perhaps he meant to get up a flirtation with her, by way of alleviating the boredom of Bath society. Hard on the heels of this thought came the realization that a flirtation with him would alleviate her own constantly growing boredom. He was so very different from any of her other flirts: in fact, she had never met anyone in the least like him.

Lucilla and Ninian were arguing about the several rides to be enjoyed outside Bath. They went into the back-drawing-room to consult the guide-book which Lucilla was almost positive she had left there. “And if they find it,” remarked Miss Wychwood, “they will instantly disagree on whether to go to see a Druidical monument, or a battlefield. I cannot conceive how anyone but a confirmed chucklehead could suppose that they were in the least degree suited to each other!”

“Iverley and Clara Amber are both chuckleheads,” replied Mr Carleton, dismissing them from further consideration. “I hope you mean to join the riding-party?”

“Yes, very likely I shall. Not that I think it at all necessary to provide Lucilla with a chaperon when she goes out with Ninian!”

“No, but it is very necessary, I promise you, to provide me with a companion who won’t bore me past endurance. I can think of few worse fates than to be obliged to ride bodkin between that pair of bickerers.”