Cecilia turned incredulous eyes toward her. “Charles not say a word? You don’t know him! He was looking like a thundercloud!”

“I daresay he was; he very often does, and you are such a goose that you instantly quake like a blancmanger,” replied Sophy. “Presently, I shall set you down, and you will join poor little Addy and continue your walk. I shall go home, where I am pretty sure to find your brother, for we have driven right round the Park now and seen no sign of him, and I know he will go back to Berkeley Square, for I heard him mention to my uncle that somebody called Eckington would be calling there at five o’clock.”

“Papa’s agent,” said Cecilia listlessly. “And I don’t see, dearest Sophy, what it signifies, whether you find Charles at home or not, because he won’t speak of this to you. Why should he?”

“Oh, won’t he just?” retorted Sophy. “Depend upon it, by this time he will have persuaded himself that everything has been my fault from start to finish! Besides, he is furious with me for having bought this turnout without his help, yes, and for having hired a stable of my own, too! He must be longing for me to come back to the house so that he can quarrel with me without fear of interruption. Poor man! I think I should put you down at once, Cecy.”

“How brave you are!” Cecilia said wonderingly. “I do not know how you can bear it!”

“What, your brother’s tantrums? I see nothing to be afraid of in them!”

Cecilia shuddered. “It is not being afraid precisely, but I dread people being angry and thundering at me! I cannot help it, Sophy, and I know it is poor spirited of me, but my knees shake so, and I feel quite sick!”

“Well, they shan’t be made to shake today,” said Sophy cheerfully. “I am going to spike Charles’s guns. Oh, see! There is Francis Wolvey! The very thing! He shall restore you to Addy for me.”

She drew up as she spoke, and Lord Francis, who had been chatting to two ladies in a landaulet, came up to the phaeton,

“Sophy, a capital turnout! ’Servant, Miss Rivenhall! I wonder to see you trust yourself to such a madcap, I do indeed! She overturned me in a gig once. A gig!”

“What an unhandsome thing to say!” said Sophy indignantly. “As though I could have helped it on such, a road. Grenada! Oh, dear, what a long time ago it seems, to be sure!

“I came up with Sir Horace, and stayed with Mrs. Scovell,” supplied Lord Francis. “She was the only lady living at Headquarters that winter and used to hold loo parties. Do you remember?”

“Of course I do! And more vividly still the fleas in that dreadful village! Francis, I must pick up John Potton and be off. Will you escort my cousin to meet her little brother and sisters? They were walking with their governess somewhere beside the Drive.”

Lord Francis, upon whom Cecilia’s beauty had made a great impression when he had met her on the occasion of calling in Berkeley Square, promptly said that nothing would give him more pleasure, and reached up his hands to help her down from the phaeton. He said that he hoped that they would not too speedily encounter the schoolroom party, and Cecilia, not impervious to his easy, friendly address, and evident admiration, began to look more cheerful.

Sophy, well satisfied saw them walk off together, and drove to where her groom awaited her by the Stanhope Gate. He reported that he had watched Mr. Rivenhall pass through it not many minutes earlier, and added, with a dry chuckle, that he looked to be on his high ropes still.

“Damned my impudence, Miss Sophy, and fair jobbed at the grays’ mouths!”

“Why, what had you said to enrage him?”

“All I said was you hadn’t never been broke to bridle, missie, and what with him being in agreement with me, and not able to say so, there was nothing for it but to damn me and drive off. I don’t blame him! Hot at hand, Miss Sophy, that’s what you are!”

Upon her arrival in Berkeley Square, Sophy found that Mr. Rivenhall had only just entered the house, having walked round from the mews. He was still wearing his caped driving coat, and had paused by the table in the hall to pick up and read a note that had been sent by one of his friends. He looked up frowningly as Dassett admitted Sophy, but he did not speak. Tina, who had developed (her mistress considered) an ill-judged passion for his society, frisked gaily up to him and employed every art known to her to attract his attention He did indeed glance down at her, but so far from encouraging her advances, said curtly, “Quiet!”

“Ah, so you are in before me!” remarked Sophy, pulling off her gloves. “Now, give me your candid opinion of those bays! Mr. Wychbold fancies you may have had an eye upon them yourself. Is that so?”

“Quite above my touch, Cousin!” he replied.

“No, really? I gave four hundred guineas for them, and think I have a bargain.”

“Were you serious when you gave me to understand that you have set up your own stable?” he demanded.

“Certainly I was serious. A pretty thing it would be if my aunt were obliged to bear the charge of my horses! Besides, I may very likely purchase two more, if I can find a couple to match the bays. I am told that it is all the crack to drive a phaeton and four, though I suppose that would mean altering the shafts, which would be a bore.”

“I have no control over your actions, Cousin,” he said coldly. “No doubt if it seems good to you to make a spectacle of yourself in the Park, you will do so. But you will not, if you please, take any of my sisters up beside you!”

“But it doesn’t please me,” she said. “I have already taken Cecilia for a turn round the Drive. You have very antiquated notions, have you not? I saw several excessively smart sporting carriages being driven by ladies of the highest ton!”

“I have no particular objection to a phaeton and pair,” he said still more coldly, “though a perch model is quite unsuited to a lady. You will forgive me if I tell you that there is something more than a little fast in such a style of carriage.”

“Now, who in the world can have been spiteful enough to have put that idea into your head?” wondered Sophy. He flushed, but did not answer.

“Did you see Cecilia?” asked Sophy. “She was looking quite ravishing in that new hat your Mama was so clever as to choose for her!”

“I did see Cecilia,” he replied grimly. “What is more, I, like you, Cousin, know just how she had been spending her time! I am going to be extremely plain with you!”

“If you wish to be extremely plain with me,” she interrupted, “come into the library! It is quite improper in you to be talking of family matters where you may be overheard. Besides, I have something of a decidedly delicate nature to say to you.”

He strode at once to the door into the library and flung it open. She went past him into the room, and he followed her, shutting the door behind him too soon for Tina, who was left on the other side. This made it necessary for him to open it again, Tina’s orders to him to do so being at once shrill and imperative. This trifling anticlimax did nothing to improve his temper, and it was with a very unpleasant edge to his voice that he said, “We will take the gloves off, Cousin Sophy! Whether or not it was you who arranged an assignation in the Park for my sister with young Fawnhope, I am well aware that you — ”

“Isn’t Cecilia dashing?” said Sophy approvingly. “She walked with Fawnhope, and then with Alfred Wraxton, and I left her with Lord Francis! And that, dear Cousin Charles, is what I wanted to speak to you about! Far, far be it from me to interfere in the affairs of your family, but I think I ought perhaps to give you a hint. I know it is awkward for you, situated as you are, but you will know how to drop a word in Cecy’s ear.”

He was thrown out of his stride by this unexpected gambit, and stared at her. “What the devil are you talking about?”

“I don’t entirely care to mention it,” said Sophy mendaciously, “but you know how fond I am of Cecy! Then, too, I have been about the world and have learnt to take care of myself. Cecy is such an innocent! There is not a particle of harm in Augustus Fawnhope, and Francis Wolvey is by far too great a gentleman to go beyond the line. But you should not encourage so lovely a girl as your sister to stroll about the Park with the Dishonorable Alfred, Charles!”

He was so much taken aback that for a moment he did not say a word. Then he demanded an explanation.

“He is the kind of odious little toad who kisses the housemaids on the stairs,” replied Sophy frankly.

“My sister is not a housemaid!”

“No, and I do trust she will know how to keep him at arm’s length.”

“May I know whether you have the slightest grounds for bringing this charge against Wraxton?”

“If you mean, have I seen him kiss a housemaid, no, dear Charles, I have not. If, on the other hand, you mean, has he tried to kiss me, yes, dear Charles, he has. In this very room, too.”

He looked angry and mortified. “I am extremely sorry that you should have been annoyed in such a fashion under this roof,” he said, getting the words out with an effort.

“Oh, I don’t mind it! I told you I was able to take care of myself. But I doubt whether anyone could prevent his — his squeezing and stroking habits or convince him that the style of his conversation is quite improper.”

She had been taking off her pelisse as she spoke, and she now laid it aside and sat down in a winged chair beside the fireplace. After a moment he said, in a milder tone, “I shall not pretend that I have any liking for Wraxton, for I have not. So far as it lies within my power I shall certainly discourage his visits to this house. My situation is, however, as you said yourself, awkward. I would not, upon any account, have this come to Miss Wraxton’s ears.”