The Black Moth by Georgette Heyer (famous ebook reader .TXT) 📖

CHAPTER XX

HIS GRACE OF ANDOVER TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME

WHEN the Duke of Andover dined next day at Grosvenor Square, he contrived, by subtle means, to make his sister feel inexplicably ill at ease. He let fall pleasant little remarks concerning her friendship with Captain Lovelace, in which she read disapproval and a sinister warning. She was afraid of him, as she was not of her husband, and she knew that if he ever guessed at the depths of her affection for the old flame, he would take very effective measures towards stopping her intercourse with him. It was, then, entirely owing to his return that she told Lovelace that he must not so palpably adore her. Neither must he visit her so frequently. They were both in her boudoir at the time, one morning, and no doubt Lavinia looked very lovely and very tempting in her wrapper, with her golden curls free from powder and loosely dressed beneath her escalloped lace ruffle. At all events, Lovelace abandoned his daintily bantering pose and seized her in his arms, nearly smothering her with fierce, passionate caresses.

Her ladyship struggled, gave a faint shriek, and started to cry. As his kisses seemed to aggravate her tears, he picked her up, and carrying her to a chair, lowered her gently into it. Then, having first dusted the floor with his handkerchief, he knelt down beside her and possessed himself of both her hands.

“Lavinia! Goddess! I adore you!”

Bethinking herself that tears were ruinous to her complexion, Lady Lavinia pulled her hands away and dabbed at her eyes.

“Oh, Harold!” she reproached him.

“I have offended you! Wretch that I am—”

“Oh, no, no!” Lady Lavinia gave him her hand again. “But ‘twas wicked of you, Harry! You must never, never do it again!”

His arm crept round her waist.

“But I love you, sweetheart!”

“Oh! Oh! Think of Dicky!”

He released her at that, and sprang to his feet.

“Why should I think of him? ‘Tis of you and myself I think! Only a week ago you vowed he was unkind—”

“You are monstrous wicked to remind me of that! We were both cross—and then we were both sorry. I am very fond of poor Dicky.”

“Fond of him! Ay, so you may be, but you do not love him! Not as a woman loves a man—do you?”

“Harold!”

“Of course you do not! You used to love me—no, do not shake your head, ‘tis true! You would have married me had it not been for Tracy.”

“Oh, Harry! How can you say so? What had he to do with it?”

“What, indeed! Whose fault was it that I was time after time refused admittance at Andover? Whose fault was it that you were induced to marry Carstares?”

“Not Tracy’s. ‘Twas my own wish.”

“Fostered by his influence?”

“Oh, no!”

“You never loved Carstares—”

“I did! I do!”

“You may think so, but I know better. Why, he is not even suited to you! You were made for life and pleasure and hazard! With me you would have had all that; with him—”

She had risen to her feet and drawn nearer to him, her eyes sparkling, but now she covered her ears with her hands and stamped pettishly.

“I will not listen! I will not, I tell you! Oh, you are unkind to plague me so!”

Lovelace took her into his arms once more, and drawing down her hands, kissed her again and again. She resisted, trying to thrust him off, but she was crushed against him, and he would have kissed her again, had not there come an interruption.

A knock fell on the door, and the footman announced:

“His Grace of Andover, m’lady!”

The guilty pair sprang apart in the nick of time, she fiery red, he pale, but composed.

His Grace stood in the doorway, his quizzing glass raised inquiringly. His eyes went swiftly from one to the other and widened. He bowed elaborately.

“My dear Lavinia! Captain Lovelace, your very obedient!”

Lovelace returned the bow with much flourish.

“Your Grace!”

“Dear me, Tracy!” cried Lavinia, advancing. “What an unexpected visit!”

“I trust I have not arrived at an inopportune moment, my dear?”

“Oh, no!” she assured him. “I am quite charmed to see you! But at such an early hour—! I confess, it quite astonishes me!” She brought him to a chair, chattering like a child, and so innocent was his expression, so smiling his attitude towards the Captain, that she imagined that he suspected nothing, and had not noticed her blushes.

It was only when Lovelace had departed that she was undeceived. Then, when his Grace moved to a chair opposite her, she saw that he was frowning slightly.

“You—you are put out over something, Tracy?” she asked nervously.

The frown deepened.

“N-no. I am not ‘put out.’ I merely anticipate the sensation.”

“I—I don’t understand. What mean you?”

“At present, nothing.”

“Tracy, please do not be mysterious! Are you like to be put out?”

“I trust not, Lavinia.”

“But what annoys you?”

Instead of answering, he put a question:

“I hope you amused yourself well—last night, my dear sister?”

She flushed. Last night had been Lady Davenant’s masquerade, to which Lord Robert had conducted her. She had danced almost exclusively with Lovelace the whole evening, but as they were both masked, she was rather surprised

at the question.

“I enjoyed myself quite tolerably, thank you. You were there?”

“No, Lavinia, I was not there.”

“Then how do you kn—” She stopped in confusion, biting her lips. For an instant she caught a glimpse of his eyes, piercing and cold.

“How do I know?” smoothly finished his Grace “One hears things, Lavinia. Also—” he glanced round the room, “one sees things.”

“I—I don’t understand you!” she shot out, twisting the lace of her gown with restless, uneasy fingers.

“No? Must I then be more explicit?”

“Yes! Yes! I should be glad!”

“Then let me beg of you, my dear Lavinia, that you will commit no indiscretion.”

Her cheeks flamed.

“You mean—”

“I mean that you have grown too friendly with Harold Lovelace.”

“Well! What of it?”

His Grace put up his eyeglass, faintly astonished.

“What of it? Pray think a moment, Lavinia!”

“‘Tis not likely that I shall be the one to disgrace the name, Tracy!”

“I sincerely hope not. I give you my word I should do all in my power to prevent any foolhardy action on your part. Pray do not forget it.”

She sat silent, biting her lips.

“It is, my child, unwise to play with fire. Sooner or later one gets burnt. And remember that your gallant captain has not one half of Richard’s wealth.”

Up she sprang, kicking her skirts as she always did when angered.

“Money! money!—always money!” she cried. “I do not care one rap for it! And Richard is not wealthy!”

“Richard is heir to wealth,” replied his Grace calmly. “And even an you are so impervious to its charms, I, my dear, am not. Richard is extremely useful to me. I beg you will not leave him for any such mad rake as Lovelace, who would be faithful to you for perhaps three months, certainly not longer.”

“Tracy, I will not have you speak to me like this! How dare you insult me so? I have given you no cause! I did not say I had any desire to run away with him—and he would be faithful to me! He has been faithful all these years!”

His Grace smiled provokingly.

“My dear—!”

“Oh, I know there have been episodes—indiscretions. Do you think I count him the worse for that?”

“Evidently not.”

“There has never been another serious love with him! I hate you!”

“You are overfree with your emotions, my dear. So you do indeed contemplate an elopement?”

“No, no, no! I do not! I am fond of Dicky!”

“Dear me!”

“Of course I shall not leave him!”

“Why then, I am satisfied,” he answered, and rose to his feet. “I shall look to see Captain Lovelace more out of your company.” He picked up his hat and cane and stood directly in front of her. One dead white hand, on which blazed a great ruby seal ring, took her little pointed chin in a firm clasp and tilted her head up until she was forced to meet his eyes. They held hers inexorably, scorchingly.

“You understand me?” he asked harshly.

Lavinia’s eyes filled with tears and her soft underlip trembled.

“Yes,” she fluttered, and gave a tiny sob. “Oh, yes, Tracy!”

The eyes lost something of their menacing gleam, and he smiled, for once without a sneer, and releasing