An Infamous Army (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 4)

Judith, smiling a gracious permission, could not but feel that the path of a chaperon was a hard one. The reputation of the Alastairs, from Dominic, Duke of Avon, down to his granddaughter, Barbara, was not such as to lead a conscientious duenna to observe with pleasure her charge being borne off by any one of them. She comforted herself with the reflection that Lord Harry, an eighteen-year-old Ensign could hardly be considered dangerous. Had it been Lord George, now! But Lord George, happily, was not in Belgium.

By the time Lord Harry had escorted Miss Devenish to the ballroom, the inevitable crowd had gathered round his sister. Lady Worth escaped from it, but not before she had been asked (inevitably, she thought) for news from Vienna.

Rumours and counter-rumours were as usual being circulated; the English in Brussels seemed to be poised for flight; and the only thing that would infallibly reassure the timorous was the certain news of the Duke’s arrival.

It was easy to see what Brussels would make of him when he did come. ‘The pedestal is ready for the hero,’ said Judith, with rather a provocative smile. ‘And we are all ready to kneel and worship at the base. I hope he may be worthy of our admiration.’

General Maitland, to whom she had addressed this remark, said: ‘Do you know him, Lady Worth?’

‘I have not that pleasure. Pray do not mention it, but I have never so much as laid eyes on him. Is it not shocking?’

‘Oh!’ said the General.

She raised her brows. ‘What am I to understand by that, if you please? Shall I be disappointed? I warn you, I expect a demi-god!’

‘Demi-god,’ repeated the General, stroking one beautiful whisker. ‘Well, I don’t know. Shouldn’t have called him so myself.’

‘Ah, I am to be disappointed! I feared as much.’

‘No—no,’ said the General. ‘Not disappointed. He is a very able commander.’

‘That sounds a little flat, I confess. Is it only the ladies who worship him? Do not his soldiers?’

‘Oh no, nothing like that!’ said the General, relieved to be able to answer a plain question. ‘I believe they rather like him than not: they like to see his hook nose among them at any rate; but they don’t worship him. Don’t think he’d care for it if they did.’

She was interested. ‘You present me with a new picture, General. My brother-in-law is quite devoted to him, I believe.’

‘Audley? Well, he’s one of his family, you see.’ He observed a bewildered look on her face, and added: ‘On his staff, I should say. That’s another matter altogether. His staff know him better than the rest of us.’

‘This is more promising. He is unapproachable. A demi-god should certainly be so.’

He laughed suddenly. ‘No, no, you won’t find him unapproachable, Lady Worth, I pledge you my word!’

Their conversation was interrupted by Sarah and Georgiana Lennox, who came up to them with their arms entwined. The General greeted the elder sister with such a warm smile that Lady Worth was satisfied that rumour had not lied about his purpose of re-marriage. Lady Sarah went off on his arm; Georgiana remained beside Judith, watching the shifting crowd for a few moments. She presently said in rather a thoughtful voice: ‘Do you see that Bab Childe is back?’

‘Yes, I have been speaking to her.’

‘I must say, I wish she had stayed away,’ confided Georgiana. ‘It is the oddest thing, because, for myself, I don’t dislike her, but wherever she is there is always some horrid trouble, or unhappiness. Even Mama, who is never silly, is a little afraid she may cast her eyes in March’s direction. Of course, we don’t breathe a word of such a thing at home, but it’s perfectly true.’

‘What

, that your brother—’

‘Oh no, no, but that Mama fears he might! One can’t blame her. There does seem to be something about Bab which drives quite sensible men distracted. Dreadful, isn’t it?’

‘I think it is.’

‘Yes, so do I,’ said Georgiana regretfully. ‘I wish I had it.’

Judith could not help laughing, but she assured her vivacious young friend that she was very well as she was. ‘All the nicest men pay their court to Georgy,’ she said. ‘It is men like the Comte de Lavisse who run after Lady Barbara.’

‘Yes,’ sighed Georgiana, looking pensively in the direction of the Count. ‘Very true. Of course one would not wish to be admired by such a person.’

This sentiment was echoed by the Lady Barbara’s brother, much later in the evening. As his carriage conveyed him and his ladies home to the Rue Ducale he said in a peevish tone that he wondered Bab could bear to have that foreign fellow for ever at her elbow.

She only laughed, but his wife, who had been yawning in her corner of the carriage, said sharply: ‘If you mean Lavisse, I am sure I don’t know why you should. I only wish Bab may not play fast and loose with him. I believe he is extremely rich.’

This argument was one that could not but appeal to the Marquis. He was silent for a few moments, but presently said: ‘I don’t know about that, but I can tell you his reputation doesn’t bear looking into.’