Cotillion

He paused for a moment on the threshold, raising his quizzing-glass, smiling at Olivia, raising an eyebrow at the Chevalier, sweeping Mrs Broughty with the indulgent, mocking glance which both enraged and impressed her. ‘Ma’am!’ He made his bow to Mrs Broughty. ‘Your very obedient! Miss Broughty, your slave! Chevalier!’ A nod sufficed for the Chevalier, but when Olivia held out her hand he took it, and held it, saying laughingly: ‘“Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty,” can I persuade you to drive out with me?’

Miss Charing, had she been present, would undoubtedly have been able to have supplied Olivia with the context of these mock-heroics; Olivia

, by far less well-read, was cast into adorable confusion, looking at once flattered and frightened, and murmured: ‘Oh, pray—! How foolish of you! It is so very obliging of you, but it is not in my power to accept! We are in the expectation of receiving friends.’

‘Alas!’ he said lightly. ‘My luck is quite out. Shall I go away at once, or may I sit with you for a few minutes?’

Mrs Broughty, crying out against the suggestion that he should depart, pressed him to take refreshment. He declined it, but sat down, stayed talking lazily for a quarter of an hour, and then rose, saying that he must no longer keep his horses standing. ‘How came you here, d’Evron? Can I offer you a seat in my curricle? You have not set up your own carriage, I fancy?’

‘No; it seems not worth the pain. In general, I hire a vehicle; today I came here in what I am informed I must call a hack. I have that correctly?’

‘Oh, perfectly! Your command of the English tongue compels one’s admiration. If you came in a hack, you must certainly allow me to convey you back to Duke Street. Farewell, sovereign cruelty! I shall hope for better fortune the next time I come to visit you!’

The Chevalier, perceiving that Mr Westruther had no intention of leaving him in possession of the field, submitted gracefully, bowed over the ladies’ hands, and accompanied his ruthless benefactor out into the street. A compliment to Mr Westruther on his horses was indifferently received, and failed to divert him from his purpose. ‘Yes, a match pair,’ he replied. ‘And how have you been going on since I last saw you, my dear d’Evron? You contrive to amuse yourself tolerably well in London?’

‘Indeed, I shall not know how to tear myself away! I have met with such kindness, and feel myself quite at home in consequence.’

‘Your charm of manner has swept all before it,’ said Mr Westruther. ‘I am for ever being asked who is my delightful French acquaintance, and where he comes from.’

‘Ah, this is some of the taquinerie for which you are famous, I think!’

‘Not at all. I am sure the friends you have made in England are legion. Now, who was it who wished to know only the other day where you had hidden yourself? Hoped you had not fallen a victim to the influenza—Yes, of course! It was Lady Maria Yalding! To have made such a conquest as that is something indeed!’

‘I cannot flatter myself so grossly,’ responded the Chevalier quietly. ‘But you remind me of my obligations, sir: Lady Maria has been most kind, and I must not neglect her.’

‘Just so,’ agreed Mr Westruther. ‘One sees the temptation, of course, but it would be folly not to withstand it.’

‘I understand you, I suppose,’ the Chevalier said after a moment, and in a mortified tone.

‘I feel sure you do: so quick-witted, you Frenchmen! You must forgive my meddling: since I had the pleasure of bringing you and your cousin together I must think myself in some sort responsible for you. I should dislike excessively to see you tumble into one of the pitfalls with which society is so amply provided. Always so difficult for a foreigner to recognize them, isn’t it?’

‘Do you mean to indicate, sir, that we have just left one of these pitfalls?’ asked the Chevalier, taking the bull by the horns.

‘Why, yes!’ said Mr Westruther, pulling up from the turnpike. ‘Charming, of course—quite the most ravishingly lovely little ladybird in town!—but no fortune, my dear d’Evron, and a mother who is a veritable harpy!’

‘I am aware.’

‘Naturally. She should have been an Abbess—ah, an entremetteuse, Chevalier! The fair Olivia is for sale to the highest bidder.’

‘Sir Henry Gosford? The thought revolts!’

The pike was open, and Mr Westruther set his pair in motion again, keeping them rigidly to a sedate pace, unusual in him. ‘Gosford, if Olivia will have him,’ he agreed. ‘He is wealthy—a matter of primary importance to Mrs Broughty; and he is besotted enough to offer marriage—not, I fancy, so important, but still desirable.’

‘You appal me!’ the Chevalier exclaimed. ‘It cannot be that the woman would allow that beautiful innocent to become a man’s mistress!’

Mr Westruther laughed softly. ‘Unless I miss my bet, d’Evron, Mrs Broughty, until she entrapped the late Broughty into marriage, was herself what we call a prime article—of Covent Garden notoriety, you know! I should suppose that that way of life may not appear to her so undesirable as it seems to appear to you.’

‘Horrible! It is horrible to think of such a thing in connection with that girl!’ the Chevalier said vehemently.

‘My dear young friend, are you picturing the fair Olivia in the Magdalen?’ said Mr Westruther, with a touch of impatience. ‘There is not the least reason to suppose that she would not enjoy a varied and a luxurious career, and, in all probability, end her days in a state of considerable affluence. We do not all of us cast our mistresses naked upon the world, you know!’

‘Sir!’ said the Chevalier, trying to control his agitation. ‘You have been frank! I shall ask you to pardon me if I too speak without restraint! Is it thus that you desire mademoiselle?’

‘It is certainly not as my wife,’ replied Mr Westruther, rather haughtily.

‘I would do all within my power to prevent it!’

A slight smile crossed Mr Westruther’s face. ‘But, then, there is really so little within your power, is there? If I were you—and this is the friendliest advice I can give you!—I would strive to forget Olivia, and continue to besiege Lady Maria’s citadel. I wish you very well at that, and will engage not to cast the least rub in your way. But you must not trespass upon my ground, you know. Not the smallest good can come of it, I do assure you. I am persuaded you did not come to London with the intention of marrying a penniless girl. Nor do I think you have sufficiently appreciated the determination of Mrs Broughty. Perhaps you have no objection to the enquiries she will certainly make into your precise circumstances; but do, my dear d’Evron, consider what might be the consequences if some malicious person were to breathe into the lady’s ear a doubt—just a doubt!’