‘Whom does he belong to?’ asked the Colonel, running an eye over his points. ‘He may have a French name, but I’ll swear he’s of English breeding.’
‘Captain de Lavisse bought him in England last year,’ she replied with one of her sidelong looks.
‘Did he?’ said the Colonel. ‘Captain de Lavisse—is he the man who was standing beside you last night, when I first met you?’
‘I don’t recollect, but it is very probable. He is in the 5th National Militia: Count Bylandt’s brigade, stationed somewhere near Nivelles—Buzet, I think. He has estates north of Ghent, and a truly delightful house in the Rue d’Aremberg, here in Brussels.’
‘A gentleman of consequence evidently.’
‘Fabulously rich!’ said Barbara with an ecstatic sigh, and touching the grey’s flank with her heel, went ahead with a brisk trot.
He rode after; both horses broke into a canter, and their riders covered some distance under the limes without speaking. Barbara presently turned her head and asked bluntly: ‘Did you ride this way, and at this hour, to meet me?’
‘Yes, of course.’
She looked a little amused. ‘How did you know I rode here before breakfast?’
‘Something you said last night gave me the clue, and I discovered the rest.’
‘The deuce you did! I had thought very few people knew of this habit of mine. Don’t betray me, if you please. I don’t want an escort.’
‘Shall I go?’ enquired the Colonel with uplifted brows.
She reined in again to walk. ‘No. You have had the luck to encounter me in a charming mood, which is not a thing that happens every day of the week. I warn you, I have the most damnable temper, and it is generally at its worst before breakfast.’
‘Oh, that is capital!’ declared the Colonel. ‘You show me how I can be of real service
to you. I will engage to be here to quarrel with you any morning you may wish for a sparring partner.’
‘I think,’ she said quite seriously, ‘that you would not make a good sparring partner. You would spare me too much.’
‘Not I!’
She did not answer. A solitary horseman, cantering down the avenue towards them, had caught her attention. As he drew nearer, she turned to the Colonel with one of her wicked looks, and said: ‘You are about to meet the Captain Count de Lavisse. Shall you like that? He is quite charming!’
‘Then obviously I shall,’ he answered. ‘But I thought you said he was stationed at Nivelles?’
‘Oh, he has leave, I suppose!’ she said carelessly.
The Captain Count, very smart in a blue uniform with a scarlet-and-white collar, and a broad-topped shako, set at an angle on his handsome head, drew rein before them, and saluted with a flourish. ‘Well met, Bab! Your servant, mon Colonel!’
The Colonel just touched his hat in acknowledgment of this magnificent salute, but the lady blew a kiss from the tips of her fingers. ‘Let me make you known to each other,’ she offered.
The Count flung up a hand. ‘Unnecessary! We have met already, and there is between us an unpaid score. I accuse you of volerie, Colonel, and demand instant reparation!’
‘Your waltzes, were they?’ said the Colonel. ‘My sympathy is unbounded, believe me, but what can I do? The Duke is devilish down on duelling, or I should be happy to oblige. You will have to accept my profound apologies.’
‘This is dissimulation of the most base! I am assured that you would serve me again the same tour—if you could!’ said the Count gaily. His eyes rested for an instant on Barbara’s ungloved right hand. He made no comment, but there was a gleam of understanding in the glance he flashed at the Colonel. He wheeled his horse, and fell in beside Barbara. Across her, he addressed Colonel Audley: ‘Your first visit to Brussels?’
‘No; I was here last year for a short space. A delightful town, Count.’
The Count bowed. ‘A compliment indeed—from one who has known Vienna! Our endeavours must be united to preserve it from the Corsican maraudeur.’
‘Your endeavours may be,’ remarked Barbara, ‘but I have met some who wish quite otherwise.’
He stiffened. ‘Persons of no consequence, I assure you!’
‘By no means!’