Sylvester (27 page)

‘
Bet
—?’ gasped Phoebe. ‘How—how infamous! How could any gentleman do such a thing?’

‘Oh, well, you know what they are!’ said Ianthe erroneously. ‘I must own, too, that Miss Wharfe’s coldness was one of the on-dits that year: she was a very handsome girl, and a great heiress as well, so of course she had
dozens
of suitors. She snubbed them all, so that it got to be a famous jest. They used to call her the Impregnable Citadel. Harry told Sylvester—funning, you know: they were always funning!—that even he would not be able to make a breach in the walls, and Sylvester instantly asked him what odds he was offering against it. I believe they were betting heavily on it in the clubs, as soon as it was seen that Sylvester was
laying siege
to the Citadel. Men are so odious!’

With this pronouncement Phoebe was in full agreement. She left Albemarle Street, amply provided with food for thought. She was shrewd enough to discount much that had been told her of Sylvester’s treatment of his nephew: Master Rayne did not present to the world the portrait of an ill-used child. On the other hand, his mama had unconsciously painted herself in unflattering colours, and emerged from her various stories as a singularly foolish parent. Probably, Phoebe decided, Sylvester was indifferent to Edmund, but determined, in his proud way, to do his duty by the boy. That word had no very pleasant connotation to one who had had it ceaselessly dinned in her ears by an unloving stepmother, but it did not include injustice. Lady Marlow had always been rigidly just.

It was Ianthe’s last disclosure that gave Phoebe so furiously to think. She found nothing in it to discount, for the suspicion had already crossed her mind that Sylvester’s kindness had been part of a deliberate attempt to make her sorry she had so rudely repulsed him. His manners, too, when he had called in Green Street, even the lurking smile in his eyes when he had looked at her, were calculated to please. Yes, Phoebe admitted, he
did
know how to fix his interest with unwary females. The question was whether to repulse him, or whether, safe in the knowledge that he was laying a trap for her, to encourage his attentions.

The question remained unanswered until the following day, when she met him again. She was riding with her Ingham cousins in the Park in a sedate party composed of herself, Miss Mary and Miss Amabel, young Mr Dudley Ingham, and two grooms following at a discreet distance; and she was heartily bored. The Misses Ingham were very plain, and very good, and very dull; and their brother, Lord Ingham’s promising second son, was already bidding fair to become a solid member of some future government; and the hack provided for her use was an animal with no paces and a placid disposition.

Sylvester, himself mounted on a neatish bay, and accompanied by two of his friends, took in the situation in one amused glance, and dealt with it in a way that showed considerable dexterity and an utter want of consideration for Lord Yarrow and Mr Ashford. Without anyone’s knowing (except himself) how it had come about, the two parties had become one; and while his hapless friends found themselves making polite conversation to the Misses Ingham, Sylvester was riding with Phoebe, a little way behind.

‘Oh, my poor Sparrow!’ he said, mocking her. ‘Never have I encountered so heartrending a sight! A job-horse?’

‘No,’ replied Phoebe. ‘My cousin Anne’s
favourite
mount. A very safe, comfortable ride for a lady, Duke.’

‘I
beg
your pardon! I have not seen him show his paces, of course.’

She cast him a glance of lofty scorn. ‘He has none. He has a very elegant shuffle, being just a trifle tied in below the knee.’

‘But such shoulders!’

Gravity deserted her; she burst into laughter, which made Miss Mary Ingham turn her head to look at her in wondering reproof, and said: ‘Oh, dear, did you ever set eyes on such a flat-sided screw?’

‘No—or on a lady with a better seat. The combination is quite shocking! Will you let me mount you while you are in town?’

She was so much astonished she could only stare at him. He smiled, and said: ‘I keep several horses at Chance for my sister-in-law’s convenience. She was used to ride a great deal. There would be nothing easier than for me to send for a couple to be brought up to London.’

‘Ride Lady Henry’s horses?’ she exclaimed. ‘You must be mad! I shouldn’t dream of doing such a thing!’

‘They are not her horses. They are mine.’

‘You said yourself you kept them for her use: she must consider them as good as her own! Besides, you must know I couldn’t permit you to mount me!’

‘I suppose you couldn’t,’ he admitted. ‘I hate to see you so unworthily mounted, though.’

‘Thank you—you are very good!’ she stammered.

‘I am
what
?
Sparrow, I do implore you not to let Lady Ingham teach you to utter civil whiskers! You know I am no such thing, but, on the contrary, the villain whose evil designs drove you from home!’ He stopped, as her eyes flew involuntarily to meet his. The look held for no more than an instant, but the expression in her eyes drove the laughter from his own. He waited for a moment, and then asked quietly: ‘What is it? What did I say to make you look at me like that?’

Scarlet-cheeked, she said: ‘Nothing! I don’t know how I looked.’

‘Very much as I saw you look once at your mother-in-law: stricken!’

She managed to laugh. ‘How absurd! I am afraid you have too lively an imagination, Duke!’

‘Well, I
hope
I may have,’ he returned.

‘There can be no doubt. I was—oh, shocked to think that after all that has passed you could suppose me to regard you in the light—in the light of a villain. But you were only funning, of course.’

‘I was, but I’m not funning when I tell you that I was not
maliciously
funning—to distress you.’

She turned her head to look at him again, this time in candid appraisal. ‘No. Although it is a thing you
could
do, I

fancy.’

‘You may believe that I did not.’

‘And
you
may believe I don’t think you villainous!’

‘Oh, that is a much harder task!’ he protested, rallying her. ‘When I think of the reception I was accorded at that appalling inn I have the gravest misgivings!’

She laughed, but tacitly refused the challenge. He did not pursue the subject; and after riding beside him in silence for a few minutes she introduced another, saying: ‘I had almost forgotten to tell you that I had the pleasure of meeting your nephew yesterday, Duke! You must be very proud of him: he is a most beautiful child!’

‘He is a very spoilt one. Are you acquainted with my sister-in-law?’

‘I made her acquaintance a few days ago, and she was so kind as to invite me to spend the afternoon with her yesterday.’

‘Ah,
now
I understand the meaning of that stricken look!’ he remarked. ‘Did I figure as the Unfeeling Brother-in-law, or as the Wicked Uncle?’

She was not obliged to answer him, for as the words left his tongue his attention was diverted. A lady who was walking beside the carriage-way just then waved to him. He recognized his cousin, Mrs Newbury, and at once desired Phoebe to rein in. ‘If you are not already known to one another I should like to introduce you to Mrs Newbury, Miss Marlow. She is quite the most entertaining of my cousins: I am persuaded you would deal extremely!—Georgie, what a stunning sight! How comes it about that you are walking in this demure style? No faithful husband to ride with you? Not
one
cicisbeo left to you?’

She laughed, stretching up her hand to clasp his. ‘No, isn’t it infamous? Lion has a spell of duty, and
all my
cicisbeos have failed me! Those who are not still buried in the country have their feet in mustard-baths, so that I’ve sunk to walking with a mere female. No, you can’t see her, because we have parted company.’

He had leaned down to take her hand, and now, just before he released it, he pressed it meaningly, saying: ‘Sunk indeed! Are you acquainted with Miss Marlow, or may I introduce her to you?’

‘So that is who you are!’ she said, smiling up at Phoebe. ‘To be sure, I should have guessed it, for I have just been exchanging bows with your cousins. You are Lady Ingham’s granddaughter, and—you are riding Anne Ingham’s deplorable slug! But you should not be: it is quite shocking! Even under that handicap you take the shine out of us all.’

‘I have been trying to persuade her to let me have the privilege of mounting her, but she insists it will not do,’ Sylvester said. ‘I have now a better notion, however. I fancy your
second
hack would be just the thing for her.’

Mrs Newbury owned only one hack, but she had been on the alert from the moment of having her hand significantly squeezed, and she took this without a blink, interrupting Phoebe’s embarrassed protests to say warmly: ‘Oh, don’t say you won’t, Miss Marlow! You can’t think how much obliged to you I shall be if you will but ride with me sometimes! I detest walking, but to ride alone, with only one’s groom following primly behind, is intolerable! I am pining for a good gallop, too, and that can’t be had in Hyde Park. Sylvester, if I can prevail upon Miss Marlow to go, will you escort the pair of us to Richmond Park upon the first real spring day?’

‘But with the greatest pleasure, my dear cousin!’ he responded.

‘Do say you would like it!’ Mrs Newbury begged Phoebe.

‘I should like it of all things, ma’am, but it is quite dreadful that you should be obliged to invite me!’

‘But I promise you I’m not! Sylvester knew I should be charmed to have a companion—and, you know, I could have said my other horse was lame, or sold, if I had wished to! I shall come to pay Lady Ingham a morning-visit, and coax her into giving her consent.’

She stepped back then, and as they parted from her cast a quizzing look up at Sylvester. He met it with a smile, so she concluded that he was pleased, and went on her way, wondering whether he was indulging a fit of gallantry, or if it was possible that he was really trying to fix his interest with Miss Marlow. It seemed unlikely, but no more unlikely than his having singled her out for his latest flirt. Or was he merely being kind to Lady Ingham’s countrified little granddaughter? Oh, no! not Sylvester! decided Mrs Newbury. He could be kind, but only where he liked. Well, it was all very intriguing, and for her part she was perfectly ready to lend him whatever aid he wanted. One did not look gift-horses in the mouth, certainly not a gift-horse of Sylvester’s providing.

16

The encounter in the Park decided the matter: Sylvester was not to be immediately rebuffed. He had certainly made it almost impossible for Phoebe to do so, but this was a consideration that only occurred to her after she had made her decision. Without standing in the smallest danger of losing her heart to him, she found his company agreeable, and would be sorry to lose it. If he was trying to serve her as he had served the unknown Miss Wharfe there could be no better way of discomfiting him than by receiving his advances in a spirit of cool friendliness. This was an excellent reason for tolerating Sylvester; within a very short time Phoebe had found another. With the return to London of so many members of the ton quite a number of invitations arrived in Green Street; and Phoebe, attending parties in some trepidation, rapidly discovered the advantages attached to her friendship with him. Very different was her second season from the first! Then she had possessed no acquaintance in town; she had endured agonies of shyness; and she had attracted no attention. Now, though the list of her acquaintances was not large, she attracted a great deal of attention, for she was Salford’s latest flirt. People who had previously condemned Phoebe as a dowd with neither beauty nor style to recommend her now discovered that her countenance was expressive, her blunt utterances diverting, and her simplicity refreshing. Unusual: that was the epithet affixed to Miss Marlow. It emanated from Lady Ingham, but no one remembered that: a quiet girl with no pretension to beauty must be unusual to have captured Sylvester’s fancy. There were many, of course, who could not imagine what he saw in her; she would never rival the accredited Toasts, or enjoy more than a moderate success. Happily she was satisfied merely to feel at home in society, to have made a few agreeable friends, and never to lack a partner at a ball. No lady whose hand was claimed twice in one evening by Sylvester need fear that fate. Nor did Sylvester stand in danger of being rebuffed while he continued to treat her with just the right degree of flattering attention. His motive might be perfidious, but it could not be denied that he was a delightful companion; and one, moreover, with whom it was not necessary to mind one’s tongue. His sense of humour, too, was lively: often, if a fatuous remark were uttered, or someone behaved in a fashion so typical as to be ludicrous, Phoebe would look instinctively towards him, knowing that he must be sharing her amusement. It was strange how the dullest party could be enjoyed because there was one person present whose eyes could be met for the fraction of a second, in wordless appreciation of a joke unshared by others: almost as strange as the insipidity of parties at which that person was not present. Oh, no! Miss Marlow, though fully alive to his arrogance, his selfishness, and his detestable vanity had no intention—no
immediate
intention—of repulsing Sylvester.

Besides, he had provided for her use a little spirting mare with a silken mouth, perfect in all her paces, and as full of playfulness as she could hold. Phoebe had cried out involuntarily when first she had seen the Firefly: how could Mrs Newbury bear to let another ride her beautiful mare? Mrs Newbury did not know how it was, but she preferred her dear old Jupiter. Phoebe understood at once: she herself owned a cover-hack long past his prime but still, and always, her favourite hack.