An Infamous Army (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 4)

She gave a little laugh. ‘This is certainly intriguing. I am rejected, then?’

He looked up. ‘Do you think you don’t tempt me? To marry you out of hand—to possess you before you had had time to regret! Oh, my love, don’t speak of this again! You spoke of changing your mind. If that is to come, you shall not be tied to me.’

‘You give me time to consider? Strange! I had never a suitor like you, Charles!’

‘I love you too much to snatch you before you know me, before you know your own heart!’

‘Ah! You are wiser than I am,’ she said, with a faint smile.

They were interrupted by Lady Vidal, who came into the room, followed by her husband. She greeted Colonel Audley with cold civility, but her lack of warmth was atoned for by Vidal’s marked display of friendliness. He was able to wish the Colonel joy with blunt cordiality, and even to crack a jest at his sister’s expense.

They were soon joined by Lord Harry, who had ridden in from Enghien to attend the evening’s party. He s

eemed to be delighted by the news of the betrothal. He wrung the Colonel’s hand with great fervour, prophesied a devilish future for him at Bab’s hands, and expressed a strong wish to see how Lavisse would receive the tidings.

‘M. de Lavisse, my dear Harry, is quite a matrimonial prize,’ said Augusta. ‘I fancy your sister cannot boast of an offer from him. He is adroit in flirtation, but it will be a clever woman who persuades him to propose marriage.’

‘Dear Gussie! How vulgar!’ said Barbara.

‘Possibly, but I believe it to be true.’

‘Stuff!’ said Lord Harry. ‘I can tell you this, Gussie, it will be a pretty fool of a woman who lets that fellow persuade her into marrying him!’

‘You are a schoolboy, and know nothing of the matter,’ responded Augusta coldly.

‘Oh, don’t I, by Gad?’ Lord Harry gave a crack of laughter. ‘Don’t be such a simpleton!’

Barbara interrupted this dialogue with a good deal of impatience. ‘Do not expose yourselves more than you are obliged!’ she begged. ‘Charles is as yet unacquainted with my family. If he must discover how odious we are, pray let him do so gradually!’

‘Very true,’ said Augusta. ‘We are all of us strangers to him, and he to us. How odd it seems, to be sure!’

Her husband moved restlessly, and said something under his breath. Colonel Audley, however, replied without an instant’s hesitation: ‘Odd, indeed, but you set me perfectly at my ease, ma’am. You are in a cross humour, and do not scruple to show it. I feel myself one of the family already.’

Barbara’s gurgle of laughter broke the astonished silence that followed these words. ‘Charles! Superb! Confess, Gussie, you are done up!’

Augusta’s stiffened countenance relaxed into a reluctant smile. ‘I am certainly taken aback, and must accord Colonel Audley the honours of that bout. Come, let us go in to dinner!’

She led the way into the dining parlour, indicated to the Colonel that he should sit at her right hand, and behaved towards him throughout the meal, if not with cordiality, at least with civility.

There was no lack of conversation, the Colonel being too used to maintaining a flow of talk at Headquarters’ parties ever to be at a loss, and Lord Harry having an inexhaustible supply of chitchat at his tongue’s end. Barbara said little. An attempt by Lord Harry to twit her on her engagement brought the stormy look back into her face. The Colonel intervened swiftly, turning aside the shaft, but not before Barbara had snapped out a snub. Augusta said with a titter: ‘I have often thought the betrothed state to be wretchedly commonplace.’

‘Very true,’ agreed the Colonel. ‘Like birth and death.’

She was silenced. Vidal seized the opportunity to advert to the political situation, inaugurating a discussion which lasted until the ladies rose from the table. The gentlemen did not linger for many minutes, and the whole party was soon on its way to Madame van de Capellan’s house.

It was an evening of music and dancing, attended by the usual crowd of fashionables. More congratulations had to be endured, until Barbara said savagely under her breath that she felt like a performing animal. Lady Worth, arriving with the Earl and her brother and sister-in-law, was reminded of a captive panther, and though understanding only in part the fret and tangle of Barbara’s nerves, felt a good deal of sympathy for her. She presently moved over to her side, saying with a smile: ‘I think you dislike all this, so I shall add nothing to what I wrote you this morning.’

‘Thank you,’ Barbara said. ‘The insipidity—the inanity! I could curse with vexation!’

‘Indeed, an engagement does draw a disagreeably particular attention to one.’

‘Oh the devil! I don’t care a fig for that! But this is a milk-and-water affair!’ She broke off, as Worth strolled up to them, and extended a careless hand to him. ‘How do you do? If you have come to talk to me, let it be of horses, and by no means of my confounded engagement. I think of setting up a phaeton: will you sell me your bays?’

‘No,’ said Worth. ‘I will not.’

‘Good! You don’t mince matters. I like that. Your wife is a famous whip, I believe. For the sake of our approaching kinship, find me a pair such as you would drive yourself, and I will challenge her to a race.’

‘I have yet to see a pair in this town I would drive myself,’ replied the Earl.