Unice blinked at him. “Safe?”
Denzell groaned, leaning back in his chair with a gesture of helplessness. “There’s the rub, Unice. She is afraid of me — I don’t know why.”
“If that is so,” Unice mused, “then it must be because of the way she feels about you.”
If he could but believe that. He shook his head, saying in despairing tones, “What’s the use of speculating? I feel as though I don’t know anything any more.”
Unice patted his hand. “Leave it to me. I promise you, if I discover nothing else, I will find out what her feelings are towards you.”
A disgusted voice spoke from the doorway. “Don’t tell me you are allowing yourself to become embroiled in Hawk’s amours, Unice.”
They both jumped, turning towards the intruder. Unice was the first to find her tongue, scolding at once. “Osmond, what a fright you gave me!”
“Never mind that,” said her husband, strolling into the room. “A pretty scene, I must say. I ought to call you out, Hawk, drinking alone with my wife in the middle of the night. In shirt-sleeves, too. And she in her dressing gown!”
“Oh, be quiet, Ossie,” said Denzell. “I am in no mood for your nonsensical gibes tonight.”
“Osmond,” said Unice, rapping on the table, “Denzell has had a most upsetting evening. He is in difficulties with Verena.”
“Ha!” triumphed Osmond. “Let that be a lesson to you not to cut in on a fellow when he is about to dance. Unice, do you know what —”
“Osmond, he isin lovewith Verena.”
Arrested, Osmond gaped at his friend. “In love? Hawk?”
“What the devil is so fantastic about it?” demanded Denzell.
Deuce take it, had his erstwhile conduct been so outrageous that it seemed impossible to his friend that he could have fallen in love? Not that he had recognised the condition in himself. Now his unprecedented distaste for the season made sense, as did his avoidance of women which had been noted by his friends.
“Yes, he is in love,” averred Unice, “although he has but just discovered it himself. Isn’t that so, Denzell?”
A faint laugh escaped him. “I was so blind, yes. Much good may the discovery do me, however.”
“Don’t say that. All will be well. I am determined that it should be. Particularly if I discover that her feelings match your own, as I am certain will be found to be the case.”
“Hey! Not so fast, Unice. If my fool of a friend fancies himself in love, that is one thing. But I’m dashed if I’ll have you involve yourself in the matter.”
Unice stared up at him. “I cannot believe I am hearing you say such a thing, Osmond. After all that I owe Verena — and Denzell is your best friend.”
“But, dash it, Unice, you know what the fellow’s like,” protested her spouse.
“It’s true, Ossie,” Denzell cut in, unwontedly meek. “I was a flirt. I did at the start intend just what you imagine with Verena. But all that is changed.”
Osmond whistled. “You don’t mean you really are in love with the chit?” Then he drew in a sharp breath. “Don’t tell me you are thinking of marrying her.”
“If I could ever persuade her to have me, yes.”
“Shewillhave you, Denzell,” Unice urged. “You have only to be patient.”
“You’re mad,” Osmond said. “You know nothing about the girl. What is her background? Who is she? Dash it, Hawk, how can you even think of marrying her?”
“What do you imagine I care for all of that?”
“You have to care, dash it. You’ve a title to think of.”
Denzell almost snorted. What nonsense was this? “Deuce take it, Ossie, I’m only going to be a baron. Do you imagine I am like old man Chaceley, too high in the instep to think of anything but a good match?”
He stopped, aware that both his host and hostess were staring at him in amazement.
