‘Precisely, my dear Louisa,’ agreed Sir Richard amiably.
‘Do not try to provoke me, Richard!’ said Louisa, on a warning note. ‘I will allow your appearance to be everything that it should be – admirable, I am sure!’
‘One does one’s poor best,’ murmured Sir Richard.
Her bosom swelled. ‘Richard, I could hit you!’ she declared.
The smile grew, allowing her a glimpse of excellent white teeth. ‘I don’t think you could, my dear.’
George so far forgot himself as to laugh. A quelling glance was directed upon him. ‘George, be quiet!’ said Louisa.
‘I must say,’ conceded Lady Wyndham, whose maternal pride could not quite be overborne, ‘there is no one, except Mr Brummell, of course, who looks as well as you do, Richard.’
He bowed, but he did not seem to be unduly elated by this encomium. Possibly he took it as his due. He was a very notable Corinthian. From his Wind-swept hair (most difficult of all styles to achieve), to the toes of his gleaming Hessians, he might have posed as an advertisement for the Man of Fashion. His fine shoulders set off a coat of superfine cloth to perfection; his cravat, which had excited George’s admiration, had been arranged by the hands of a master; his waistcoat was chosen with a nice eye; his biscuit-coloured pantaloons showed not one crease; and his Hessians, with their jaunty gold tassels, had not only been made for him by Hoby, but were polished, George suspected, with a blacking mixed with champagne. A quizzing-glass on a black ribbon hung round his neck; a fob at his waist; and in one hand he carried a Sèvres snuffbox. His air proclaimed his unutterable boredom, but no tailoring, no amount of studied nonchalance, could conceal the muscle in his thighs, or the strength of his shoulders. Above the starched points of his shirt-collar, a weary, handsome face showed its owner’s disillusionment. Heavy lids drooped over grey eyes which were intelligent enough, but onlyto observe the vanities of the world; the smile which just touched that resolute mouth seemed to mock the follies of Sir Richard’s fellow men.
Jeffries came back into the room with a tray, and set it upon a table. Louisa waved aside the offer of refreshment, but Lady Wyndham accepted it, and George, emboldened by his mother-in-law’s weakness, took a glass of Madeira.
‘I dare say,’ said Louisa, ‘that you are wondering what we are here for.’
‘I never waste my time in idle speculation,’ replied Sir Richard gently. ‘I feel sure that you are going to tell me what you are here for.’
‘Mama and I have come to speak to you about your marriage,’ said Louisa, taking the plunge.
‘And what,’ enquired Sir Richard, ‘has George come to speak to me about?’
‘That too, of course!’
‘No, I haven’t!’ disclaimed George hurriedly. ‘You know I said I’d have nothing to do with it! I never wanted to come at all!’
‘Have some more Madeira,’ said Sir Richard soothingly.
‘Well, thank you, yes, I will. But don’t think I’m here to badger you about something which don’t concern me, because I’m not!’
‘Richard!’ said Lady Wyndham deeply, ‘I dare no longer meet Saar face to face!’
‘As bad as that, is he?’ said Sir Richard. ‘I haven’t seen him myself these past few weeks, but I’m not at all surprised. I fancy I heard something about it, from someone – I forget whom. Taken to brandy, hasn’t he?’
‘Sometimes,’ said Lady Wyndham, ‘I think you are utterly devoid of sensibility!’
‘He is merely trying to provoke you, Mama. You know perfectly well what Mama means, Richard. When do you mean to offer for Melissa?’
There was a slight pause. Sir Richard set down his empty wine glass, and flicked with one long finger the petals of a flowerin a bowl on the table. ‘This year, next year, sometime – or never, my dear Louisa.’
‘I am very sure she considers herself as good as plighted to you,’ Louisa said.
Sir Richard was looking down at the flower under his hand, but at this he raised his eyes to his sister’s face, in an oddly keen, swift look. ‘Is that so?’
‘How should it be otherwise? You know very well that Papa and Lord Saar designed it so years ago.’
The lids veiled his eyes again. ‘How medieval of you!’ sighed Sir Richard.
‘Now, don’t, pray, take me up wrongly, Richard! If you don’t like Melissa, there is no more to be said. But you do like her – or if you don’t, at leastInever heard you say so! What Mama and I feel – and George, too – is that it is time and more that you were settled in life.’
A pained glance reproached Lord Trevor. ‘Et tu, Brute?’ said Sir Richard.
‘I swear I never said so!’ declared George, choking over his Madeira. ‘It was all Louisa. I dare say I may have agreed with her.Youknow how it is, Richard!’
‘I know,’ agreed Sir Richard, sighing. ‘You too, Mama?’
