"What we need is some plan," Roger said to her bowed head.
"We?" she asked, looking up sharply.
He ignored her query. He was looking thoughtful. "A flirtation won't do, though," he said. "I shall need to think. Give me a day or two. Now, if we are not inadvertently to be accused of that flirtation, I think I had better leave you, my dear little cousin. As it is, I have been sitting here through one whole set, and another is already beginning. May I convey you to anyone's side?"
"No," she said, "I shall stay here."
Roger favored her with a bow, looked assessingly around the floor, and crossed the room to repeat his bow before Vera, who was sitting with her mother and some other older ladies. She had not danced.
"Ah, the divine Miss Burton," he said. "And how are you this evening, ma'am?"
"I would feel very much better if I did not have to listen to ridiculous flattery, my lord," she replied quietly.
He looked somewhat taken aback, but the gleam was back in his eye. "Will you dance?" he asked. "It is a waltz and has only just started."
She looked as if she would refuse, but she seemed to realize that such refusal would serve only to draw attention to herself. She rose to her feet and placed her hand in his.
"You do not look to be the sort of female to have claws," he said thoughtfully as they began to waltz.
"I did not mean to be rude, my lord," she said, "but I hate hypocrisy."
"And do you consider yourself such an antidote that any man who expresses pleasure in the sight of you must be lying?" he asked, amusement in his voice.
"I know I am no beauty, my lord," she said firmly, "and I am not fishing for a compliment."
"Let me see," he said, holding her a little farther away from him and surveying her with lazy eyes. "Yes, you are right. You are not as shapely as your sister. Of course, you are taller than she and could achieve a slender grace. Your hair is unfortunately neither brown nor blond. But it is thick and shiny and would look quite delightful if you allowed it to frame your face instead of scooping it back as if you meant to drag it from its roots. Your cheeks lack some bloom but your features are good and your face would be more than attractive if you relaxed and smiled more. Indeed, now I look more closely, I find that your annoyance has added some quite becoming color to your cheeks. Your eyes, of course, could not be improved upon. I am sure you keep them lowered only because you know very well what effect they might have on a notorious rake like me."
Those eyes flew upward to meet his. "Sir, you are impertinent," Vera said.
"Very," he agreed. "But you are the one who drew swords. Can you blame me for retaliating? And you would be advised to lower those eyes, ma 'am, especially when they are flashing as they are now. They are doing alarming things to my heartbeat and making me notice that your mouth is by no means your worst feature either. Decidedly kissable, in fact."
Vera 's eyes continued to glare. Her nostrils flared. Her cheeks flushed an even deeper shade with hot indignation. All of which reactions caused Lord Beauchamp to smile broadly.
"Are you contented now that you have succeeded in giving me a thorough set-down?" she asked icily.
"Quite contented," he agreed, "for the present, Miss Burton. The transformation in your appearance over the last minute has been worth witnessing."
When Ralph returned home the following afternoon, it was to find his mother sitting alone in the drawing room, sewing.
"How do you do, Mama?" he said, crossing the room and kissing her on the cheek. "Where are Georgiana and Gloria?"
"Your wife is in her apartments, as far as I know," the dowager replied, not lifting her eyes from her work, "and Gloria is in the morning room writing a letter to the Reverend Boscome. If she is following my advice she is suggesting to him that their nuptials be postponed until the summer. It would be a shame for her to miss the Season, when she was forced to miss the last."
"And what does Gloria think of the suggestion?" Ralph asked.
"Oh, the foolish girl believes that she would prefer life in a village vicarage to the pleasures of town," his mother replied. "Will she never meet a more suitable husband? The daughter of my dear Chartleigh to be thrown away on a mere vicar, a younger son, Ralph. The prospect is intolerable."
"Mama." Ralph seated himself on a chair close to his mother's. "Gloria is six-and-twenty. She is old enough to make her own choice. Indeed, she is already well past the usual age of marriage. Do you not think that after six years of constancy to David Boscome she has proved that she has a lasting attachment to him?"
"Attachment!" the dowager said contemptuously. What has that to say to anything? The girl is just too obstinate to consider someone more eligible, that is all. She has had any number of chances to fix the interest of more suitable gentlemen."
Ralph was silent for a minute while he watched his mother make angry stabs at her work with the needle.
"I shall go to Gloria," he said quietly then, "and urge her most strongly to obey the dictates of her own heart. She has considered the feelings of others for too long. It is time she pleased herself."
"Ralph!" His mother looked up at him at last, in shocked disbelief. "Have you taken leave of your senses, my boy? Since when have you spoken to your own mother with such disrespect? Chartleigh would never have allowed such impertinence. You can be thankful that he is no longer here to deal with you."
Ralph turned very pale, but he did not flinch from his mother's wrath. "Mama," he said, "I am Chartleigh now. I am head of the family. I love you deeply and I respect you for the firmness with which you have brought us up to know our duty. But I must assume the responsibilities of my position. At the moment the happiness of my sister needs to be assured, and I shall do all I can to see that it is done."
