“Merciful heavens!” cried Mrs. Scattergood. “You might have been killed!”

“Oh well, I daresay I should not have been. I daresay the rogue only fired to frighten us, though the shot seemed to pass devilish close. If he had robbed me he would have found himself out of luck, for I’d no more than a couple of guineas in my purse. Ju, you are looking quite pale! Nonsensical girl, it was nothing! The merest brush!”

“Yes,” she said faintly. “The merest brush. Yet to have you fired upon, the shot coming so close, and the man riding up afterwards, as though to finish his work—it terrifies me, I confess! You are safe, and unhurt, and that must satisfy me—should satisfy me, yet does not.”

He put his arm round her. “Why, this is nothing but an irritation of nerves, Ju! It’s not like you to quake for such a small cause. You refine too much upon it. Ten to one but the fellow had no thought of injuring me.”

“I daresay he might not. Perhaps I do refine too much upon it; it has taken strong possession of my mind, I own. The danger you so lately passed through, and now this! But I am fanciful; you need not tell me so.”

“Oh, if you are to recall that meeting, I have done!” he said, impatiently. “There can be no connection.”

She agreed to it, and said no more. Having told his tale he did not wish to be still talking of it, and what vague fears she might still cherish she kept to herself. He began to speak of the hunting he had enjoyed, of the company to be met with in Hertfordshire, the Assembly they had attended, and a dozen other circumstances of his visit. She had time to recover her composure, and was ready, upon Peregrine’s having no more to say, to recount her own diversions since their last meeting. Belvoir must be described, Worth’s unusually gentle manners touched upon, and finally the Duke of Clarence’s attentions laughed over.

These had become most marked. From the day of their first meeting the Duke had lost no opportunity of fixing his interest with her. She could no longer be in any doubt of his intentions. If she drove in the Park she might place a reasonable dependence on meeting him, and being obliged to take him up beside her; if she went to the play the chances were he would be there too, and would find his way to her box; if a posy of flowers, a box of sugar-plums or some pretty trifle to ornament her drawing-room were delivered at the house, his card would almost certainly accompany it. He was for ever calling in Brook Street, and put forward so many schemes for her entertainment, including even an invitation to make one of a party at his house at Bushey for Christmas, that she was hard put to it to know how to discourage him without the appearance of incivility.

Peregrine thought it a very good joke, and the notion of a prince paying addresses to his sister provoked him to laughter whenever he happened to think of it.

“Odious boy!” Judith said, trying to frown. “Pray, why should he not? I hope I am as respectable as Miss Tylney Long, and I believe it to be a fact that the Duke has proposed to her several times.”

“What, the Pocket Venus?” exclaimed Peregrine. “I did not know that! I thought Wellesley Poole was casting his eyes in her direction.”

“Very possible,” said Judith. looking scornful. “I ought to be flattered at his casting his eyes first in my direction, I suppose. Sometimes, Perry, I could wish that I had been born merely to a respectable competence instead of to a fortune.”

“Stuff!” replied Peregrine. “You would not like that at all, let me tell you. And as for this notion of Tarry Breeks proposing to you—pho, I’ll lay you ten to one he don’t do it!”

“He will not if I can prevent him,” said Judith decidedly.

This proved, however, to be a feat beyond her powers. Neither coldness of manner nor direct rebuff made the least impression on the Duke, and having made up his mind that he had found an eligible partner in Miss Taverner, he lost very little time in declaring himself.

The moment he chose was a fortunate one for him, Judith being engaged in writing letters in the drawing-room when he called, and Mrs. Scattergood having driven out to buy some satin for a new cap. He was ushered into the room, carrying a tight bunch of flowers, and having warmly shaken Miss Taverner by the hand, pressed his posy upon her, remarking with a satisfied air: “I see you are alone. Now, that is just what I had hoped! How d’ye do? But I need not ask. Such a bloom of health! You are always in looks!”

Judith, accepting the posy with a word of thanks, hardly knew how to reply to this, and could only beg him to be seated. He made her a very gallant bow, indicating the sofa with a wave of his hand, and, feeling a little helpless, she sat down in one corner of it.

He took his place beside her, and fixing his bright blue eyes on her face said jovially: “This is a luxurious state indeed, to be finding myself tête-à-tête with you! But you know that we have not settled it that you are to spend Christmas at Bushey. Come now, you will not be so unkind as to refuse me! We will have a snug party. I will engage for your liking Bushey excessively. Everyone does! It is a neat little box, I can tell you. I was used to have a house at Richmond, but from one cause or another I gave it up, and when they made me Ranger of Bushey Park I went to live there. It suits me very well. I don’t care so much for the river, do you?”

“Perhaps it may be damp to live beside,” said Judith, glad to be getting away from the subject of Christmas. “I must own I have a decided partiality for it, however.”

“Well, for my part, I don’t see what there is to make so much of in the Thames,” said the Duke. “You are all in raptures over it, but I am quite tired of it. There it goes, flow, flow, flow, always the same!”

She was obliged to hide a smile. Before she could think of any suitable rejoinder he was off again. “But I did not come to talk of the river, after all. Christmas! Now what do you say to it?”

“I am very grateful to you, sir—honoured as well, I am sure beyond my deserts—but it must not be.”

“Grateful—honoured! Pho, pho, don’t use high-sounding phrases to me, I beg of you! You should know I am a plain sort of a man, never stand upon ceremony, think it all stuff and nonsense! Why should you not come? If you are thinking it would not be just the party you would like I will engage for it it will be. You may have the ordering of it, may look over the list of guests, and have it all as you choose.”

“Thank you, thank you, but you misunderstand me, sir! Consider, if you please, how particular an appearance my joining your party must present! It is not what either of us could wish.”

“Well, there you are quite in the wrong,” said the Duke bluntly. “It is of all things what I should like most. It cannot seem too particular for my taste.” He leaned towards her, and seized her hands. “My dear, dear Miss Taverner, you cannot be unaware of my feelings! You won’t expect pretty speeches from me; you know how it is with me: I am just a sailor, and say what I think: but I have the deepest regard for you—damme, I am head over ears in love with you, my dear Miss Taverner, and don’t care who hears me say it!”

He had her hands clasped so tightly that she was unable to move. She could only turn her head away, saying in a good deal of confusion: “Please say no more! You do me too much honour! Indeed, I am sorry to give you pain, but it is impossible!”

“Impossible! How so? I see no impossibility. Ah, I daresay you are thinking I am too old a fellow to be addressing you, but I have the best health of all my family, you know. You will see how I shall outlive them. Have you thought of that?”

She made another attempt to disengage herself. “No, indeed, how should I? I am sure I wish you may, but it cannot concern me. It is not on the score of your more advanced age that I find myself obliged to decline your offer, but our different situations, my own feelings—I beg of you, let us speak of this no more!”

An idea dawned on him; his rather protuberant blue eyes gleamed with intelligence. “I see how it is!” he said in his hurried way. “I am a clumsy fellow, I do not make myself plain! But it is marriage, you know, that I am offering you—everything in proper sailing trim, upon my word of honour!”

“I did not mistake you,” she said in a suffocating voice. “But you must perceive how impossible such an alliance would be! Were I to consent to it can you suppose that there would be no opposition from your family?”

“Oh, you mean my brother, the Regent! I do not know why he should oppose it. He is not at all a bad fellow, I assure you, whatever you may have heard to the contrary. There’s Charlotte to succeed him, and my brother York before me. You may depend upon it he thinks the Succession safe enough without taking me into account. But you do not say anything! You are silent! Ah, I see what it is, you are thinking of Mrs, Jordan! I should not have mentioned her, but there! you are a sensible girl; you don’t care for a little blunt speaking. That is quite at an end: you need have no qualms. If there has been unsteadiness in the past that is over and done with. You must know that when the King was in his senses we poor devils were in a hard case—not that I mean anything disrespectful to my father, you understand—but so it was. We have all suffered—Prinny, and Kent, and Suss, and poor Amelia! There’s no saying but that we might all of us have turned out as steady as you please if we might have married where we chose. But you will see that it will all be changed now. Here am I, for one, anxious to be settled, and comfortable. You need not consider Mrs. Jordan.”

Miss Taverner succeeded at last in drawing her hands away. “Sir, if I could return your regard perhaps the thought of that lady might not weigh with me, but surely she must be considered, cannot be put quite out of mind?”