Lord Francis at once leaned forward in his saddle to shake him by the hand. ‘Now I know who you are!’ he announced. ‘You are Charles Rivenhall! Thought I couldn’t be mistaken! How do you do? Do you still box? Freddy was used to say he never knew an amateur with a more punishing right!’
Mr Rivenhall laughed. ‘Did he? He felt it often enough, but I take no credit for that: he was always glaringly abroad!’
Major Quinton, who had been regarding him intently, said: ‘Then that is very likely where I have seen you. Jackson’s Saloon! You are the fellow Jackson says he might have made into a champion if only you had not been a gentleman!’
This remark naturally beguiled all three men in a sporting conversation. Mr Wraxton hung on the outskirts of it, occasionally interpolating a few words which no one paid any heed to; Sophy smiled benignly to see her friends and her cousin so happily absorbed; and Colonel Debenham, who had excellent manners, and a kind heart, began to make painstaking conversation to Miss Wraxton. By tacit consent, the military gentlemen turned to accompany Mr Rivenhall’s party up the track, and the entire cavalcade moved forward at a walking-pace.
Sophy found that Sir Vincent had brought his horse up to walk beside hers, and said suddenly: ‘Sir Vincent, you are the very man I need! Let us draw a little ahead!’
‘Nothing in this life, enchanting Juno, could afford me more pleasure!’ he instantly responded. ‘I have no fancy for the Fancy. On no account tell anyone that I said that! It is quite unworthy of me! Are you about to transport me by accepting a heart laid often at your feet, and as often spurned? Something informs me that I indulge my optimism too far, and that you are going to demand of me some service that will plunge me into a morass of trouble, and end in my being cashiered.’
‘Nothing of the sort!’ declared Sophy. ‘But I never knew anyone, other than Sir Horace, whose judgement I would rather trust when it comes to buying a horse. Sir Vincent, I want to purchase a pair for my phaeton!’
They had by this time considerably outdistanced the rest of the party. Sir Vincent made his roan drop to a walk, and said brokenly: ‘Allow me a moment in which to recover my manhood! So that is all the use you have for me!’
‘Don’t be so absurd!’ said Sophy. ‘What better use could I have for anyone?’
‘Dear Juno, I have told you a great many times, and I shall tell you no more!’
‘Sir Vincent,’ said Sophy severely, ‘you have dangled after every heiress who has come in your way from the day I first met you –’
‘Shall I ever forget it? You had lost a front tooth, and torn your dress.’
‘Very likely. Though I have not the least doubt that you don’t recall the occasion at all, and have this instant made that up. You are a more hardened flirt even than Sir Horace, and you only offer for me because you know I shall not accept your suit. My fortune cannot be large enough to tempt you.’
‘That,’ acknowledged Sir Vincent, ‘is true. But better men than I, my dear Sophy, have been known to cut their coats to suit their cloth.’
‘Yes, but I am not your cloth, and you know very well that, indulgent though he may be, Sir Horace would never permit me to marry you, even if I wished to, which I do not.’
‘Oh, very well!’ sighed Sir Vincent. ‘Let us talk of horse-flesh, then!’
‘The thing is,’ confided Sophy, ‘that I was obliged to sell my carriage-horses when we left Lisbon, and Sir Horace had no time to attend to the matter before he sailed for Brazil. He said my cousin would advise me, but he was quite out! He will not.’
‘Charles Rivenhall,’ said Sir Vincent, looking at her from under drooping eyelids, ‘is held to be no bad judge of a horse. What mischief are you brewing, Sophy?’
‘None! He has said he will not stir in the matter, and also that it would be improper for me to visit Tattersall’s. Is that true?’
‘Well, it would certainly be unusual.’
‘Then I won’t do it: my aunt would be distressed, and she has enough to plague her already. Where else can I buy a pair that will suit me?’
He gazed meditatively ahead between his horse’s ears. ‘I wonder if you would care to buy two of Manningtree’s breakdowns before they come into the open market?’ he said presently. ‘Quite done-up, poor fellow, and is selling off all his cattle. What’s your figure, Sophy?’
‘Sir Horace told me not above four hundred, unless I saw a pair it would be a crime not to buy.’
‘Manningtree would sell you his match bays for less than that. As handsome a pair as you could wish for: I should buy them myself if I had a feather to fly with.’
‘Where may I see them?’
‘Leave that to me: I’ll arrange it. What’s your direction?’
‘At Lord Ombersley’s house in Berkeley Square: that big one, at the corner!’
‘Of course. So he is your uncle, is he?’
‘No, but his wife is my aunt.’
‘And Charles Rivenhall is therefore your cousin. Well, well! How do you contrive to amuse yourself, my Sophy?’
