Georgette Heyer - Regency Romance Classics - Georgette Heyer Collection

"I wish you would not interrupt," complained Lady Malmerstoke wearily. "I said if you wish to attract him you should employ less obvious methods."

"H—how dare you, Aunt Sally! I wish to attract him? I hate him! I hate the very sight of him!"

The sleepy brown eyes grew more alert.

"Is that the way the wind lies?" murmured Lady Malmerstoke. "What's he done?" she added, ever practical.

"He hasn't done anything. He—I—"

"Then what hasn't he done?"

"Aunt Sally—Aunt Sally—you—I won't answer! He—nothing at all! 'Tis merely that I do not like him."

"It's not apparent in your manner," remarked her ladyship. "Are you determined that he shall fall in love with you?"

"Of course I never thought of such a thing! I—why should I?"

"For the pleasure of seeing him at your feet, and then kicking him away. Revenge, my love, revenge."

"How dare you say such things, Aunt! It—it isn't true!"

Lady Malmerstoke continued to pursue her own line of thought.

"From all I can see of this Philip, he's not the man to be beaten by a chit of a girl. I think he is in love with you. Have a care, my dear. Men with chins like his are not safe. I've had experience, and I know. He'll win in the end, if he has a mind to do so."

"Mind!" Cleone was scornful. "He has no mind above clothes or poems!"

Lady Malmerstoke eyed her lazily.

"Who told you that, Clo?"

"No one. I can see for myself."

"There is nothing blinder than a very young woman," philosophised her ladyship. "One lives and one learns. Your Philip—"

"He isn't my Philip!" cried Cleone, nearly in tears.

"You put me out," complained her aunt. "Your Philip is no fool. He's dangerous. On account of that chin, you understand. Don't have him, my dear; he's one of your masterful men. They are the worst; old Jeremy Fletcher was like that. Dear me, what years ago that was!"

"He—he's no more masterful than—than his uncle!"

"No, thank heaven, Tom's an easy-going creature," agreed her aunt. "A pity Philip is not the same."

"But I tell you he is! If—if he were more masterful I should like him better! I like a man to be a man and not—a—a pranked-out doll!"

"How you have changed!" sighed her aunt. "I thought that was just what you did not want. Didn't you send your Philip away to become a beau?"

"He is not my Philip—Aunt! I—no, of course I did—didn't. And if I d-did, it was very st-stupid of me, and now I'd rather have a—a masterful man."

"Ay, we're all like that in our youth," nodded her aunt. "When you grow older you'll appreciate the milder sort. I nearly married Jerry Fletcher. Luckily I changed my mind and had Malmerstoke. God rest his soul, poor fellow! Now I shall have Tom, I suppose."

Cleone broke into a hysterical laugh.

"Aunt, you are incorrigible! How can you talk so?"

"Dreadful, isn't it? But I was always like that. Very attractive, you know. I never was beautiful, but I made a great success. I quite shocked my poor mother. But it was all a pose, of course. It made me noticed. I was so amusing and novel—like you, my love, but in a different way. All a pose."

"Why, is it still a pose, Aunt?"

"Oh, now it's a habit. So much less fatiguing, my dear. But to return to what I was saying, you—"

"Don't—don't let's talk—about me," begged Cleone unsteadily. "I—hardly know what possesses me, but—Oh, there's the bell!"

Lady Malmerstoke dragged herself up.

"Already? Clo, is my wig on straight? Drat the men, I've not had a wink of sleep the whole afternoon. A nice hag I shall look to-night. Which of them is it, my dear?"

Cleone was peering out of the window.

"'Tis James and Jennifer, Aunt." She came back into the room. "It seems an age since I saw Jenny."

Lady Malmerstoke studied herself in her little mirror.

"Is she the child who lives down in the country?"

"Yes—Jenny Winton, such a sweet little thing. She has come up with Mr. Winton for a few weeks. I am so glad she managed to induce him to bring her!" Cleone ran forward as the two Wintons were ushered in. "Jenny, dear!"

Jennifer was half a head shorter than Cleone, a shy child with soft grey eyes and mouse-coloured hair. She flung her arms round Cleone's neck.

"Oh, Clo, how prodigious elegant you look!" she whispered.

"And oh, Jenny, how pretty you look!" retorted Cleone. "Aunt Sally, this is my dear Jennifer!"

Jennifer curtseyed.

"How do you do, ma'am?" she said in a voice fluttering with nervousness.

"I am very well, child. Come and sit down beside me." She patted the couch invitingly. "Is this your first visit to town, my dear?"

Jennifer sat down on the edge of the couch. She stole an awed glance at Lady Malmerstoke's powdered wig.

"Yes, ma'am. It is so exciting."

"I'll warrant it is! And have you been to many balls, yet?"

"N-no." The little face clouded over. "Papa does not go out very much," she explained.

Cleone sank on to a stool beside them, her silks swirling about her.

"Oh, Auntie, please take Jenny to the Dering ball next week!" she said impulsively. "You will come, won't you, sweet?"

Jennifer blushed and stammered.

"To be sure," nodded her ladyship. "Of course she will come! James, sit down! You should know by now how the sight of anyone on their feet fatigues me, silly boy! Dear me, child, how like you are to your brother! Are you looking at my wig? Monstrous, isn't it?"

Jennifer was covered with confusion.

"Oh, no, ma'am, I—"

Her ladyship chuckled.

"Of course you were. How could you help it? Cleone tells me it is a ridiculous creation, don't you, my love?"

"I do, and I truly think it!" answered Cleone, her eyes dancing. "'Tis just a little more impossible than the last."

"There!" Lady Malmerstoke turned back to Jennifer. "She is an impertinent hussy, is she not?"

"Could she be impertinent?" asked James fondly.

"Very easily she could, and is," nodded her ladyship. "A minx."

"Oh!" Jennifer was shocked.

"Don't attend to her!" besought Cleone. "Sometimes she is very ill-natured, as you see."

Jennifer ventured a very small laugh. She had resolutely dragged her eyes from the prodigious wig, and was now gazing at Cleone.

"You—you seem quite different," she told her.

Cleone shook her golden head.

"'Tis only that Aunt Sally has tricked me out in fine clothes," she replied. "I'm—oh, I am the same!" she laughed, but not very steadily. "Am I not, James?"

"Always the same," he said ardently. "Always beautiful."

"I will not have it," said Lady Malmerstoke severely. "You'll turn the child's head, if 'tis not turned already."

"Oh, it is, it is!" cried Cleone. "I am quite too dreadfully vain! And there is the bell again! James, who is it? It's vastly bad-mannered to peep, but you may do it. Quick!"

James went to the window.

"Too late," he said. "They are in, whoever they are."

"'Twill be Thomas," decided Lady Malmerstoke. "I wonder if he is any fatter?"

Jennifer giggled. She had never met anything quite like this queer, voluminous old lady before.

"Is—is Sir Maurice coming?" she inquired.

"I told him to be sure to come," answered her ladyship. "You know him, don't you?"

"Oh, yes!" breathed Jennifer.

"Sah Maurice and Mr. Jettan," announced the little black page.

"Drat!" said her ladyship. She rose. "Where's your son?" she demanded, shaking her finger at Sir Maurice.

Sir Maurice kissed her hand.

"Sally, you grow ruder and ruder," he reproved her.

"Maurice," she retorted, "you were ever a punctilious ramrod. Philip's the only one of you I want to see. He says such audacious things," she explained. "So gratifying to an old woman. Well, Tom?"

Thomas bowed very low.