The Black Moth by Georgette Heyer (best mobile ebook reader TXT) 📕
"Certainly, sir."
"Then do not keep up this pretence with me; no, nor look so hard neither! I've watched you grow up right from the cradle, and Master Dick too, and I know you both through and through. I know you never cheated at Colonel Dare's nor anywhere else! I could have sworn it at the time--ay, when I saw Master Dick's face, I knew at once that he it was who had played foul, and you had but taken the blame!"
"No!"
"I know better! Can you, Master Jack, look me in the face and truthfully deny what I have said? Can you? Can you?"
My lord sat silent.
With a sigh, Warburton sank on to the settle once more. He was flushed, and his eyes shone, but he spoke calmly again.
"Of course you cannot. I have never known you lie. You need not fear I shall betray you. I kept silence all these years for my lord's sake, and I will not speak now until you give me leave."
"Which I never shall."
"Master Ja
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“Really? I regret I was not aware of your presence. It is a good many years since I had the honour of seeing you.”
“Five,” nodded Lovelace, and sent a smiling, amorous glance at Lavinia.
“Exactly,” bowed his Grace. “You have, I perceive, renewed your acquaintance with my sister.”
When they were gone he caressed his chin, thoughtfully.
“Lovelace … and Richard is so jealous, so unreasonable. Now I do hope Lavinia will do nothing indiscreet—Yes, Frank, I was talking to myself; a bad habit.”
Fortescue, who had come up behind him, took his arm.
“A sign of lunacy, my dear. Jim Cavendish demands you.”
“Does he? May I ask why?”
“He is in the card-room. There is some bet on, I believe.”
“In that case I shall have to go. You had best accompany me, Frank.”
“Very well. You have seen Lady Lavinia?”
Beneath the mask his Grace’s eyes narrowed.
“I have seen Lavinia. Also I have seen an old friend—Lovelace by name.”
“The captain with the full-bottomed wig? Your friend, you say?”
“Did I say so? I should correct myself: a friend of my sister’s.”
“Indeed? Yes, I believe I have seen him in her company.”
Tracy smiled enigmatically.
“I daresay.”
“And what of you, Tracy?”
“Well? What of me?”
“You told me this morning that you had at last fallen in love. It is true? You are honestly in love?”
“Honestly? How do I know? I only know that I have felt this passion for four months, and now it is stronger than ever. It sounds like love.”
“Then, an she is a good woman, I hope she will consent to take you, such as you are, and make of you such as she can!”
“Now that is very neat, Frank. I congratulate you. Of course she will take me; as to the rest—I think not.”
“Tare an’ ouns, Tracy! but an that is the tone you take with her, she’ll have none of you!”
“I have never found it unsuccessful.”
“With your common trollops, no! But if your Diana is a lady, she will dispatch you about your business! Woo her, man! Forget your own damned importance, for I think you will need to humble yourself to the dust if all that you tell me has passed between you is true!”
They had paused outside the card-room. A curtain shut it off from the ball-room, and with his hand on it, Tracy stared arrogantly down at his friend.
“Humble myself? ‘Fore Gad, you must be mad!”
“Belike I am; but I tell you, Tracy, that if your passion is love, ‘tis a strange one that puts yourself first. I would not give the snap of a finger for it! You want this girl, not for her happiness, but for your own pleasure. That is not the love I once told you would save you from yourself. When it comes, you will count yourself as nought; you will realise your own insignificance, and above all, be ready to make any sacrifice for her sake. Yes, even to the point of losing her!”
His Grace’s lips sneered.
“Your eloquence is marvellous,” he remarked. “I have not been so amused since I left Paris.”
HIS GRACE OF ANDOVER TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME
WHEN the Duke of Andover dined next day at Grosvenor Square, he contrived, by subtle means, to make his sister feel inexplicably ill at ease. He let fall pleasant little remarks concerning her friendship with Captain Lovelace, in which she read disapproval and a sinister warning. She was afraid of him, as she was not of her husband, and she knew that if he ever guessed at the depths of her affection for the old flame, he would take very effective measures towards stopping her intercourse with him. It was, then, entirely owing to his return that she told Lovelace that he must not so palpably adore her. Neither must he visit her so frequently. They were both in her boudoir at the time, one morning, and no doubt Lavinia looked very lovely and very tempting in her wrapper, with her golden curls free from powder and loosely dressed beneath her escalloped lace ruffle. At all events, Lovelace abandoned his daintily bantering pose and seized her in his arms, nearly smothering her with fierce, passionate caresses.
Her ladyship struggled, gave a faint shriek, and started to cry. As his kisses seemed to aggravate her tears, he picked her up, and carrying her to a chair, lowered her gently into it. Then, having first dusted the floor with his handkerchief, he knelt down beside her and possessed himself of both her hands.
“Lavinia! Goddess! I adore you!”
Bethinking herself that tears were ruinous to her complexion, Lady Lavinia pulled her hands away and dabbed at her eyes.
“Oh, Harold!” she reproached him.
“I have offended you! Wretch that I am—”
“Oh, no, no!” Lady Lavinia gave him her hand again. “But ‘twas wicked of you, Harry! You must never, never do it again!”
His arm crept round her waist.
“But I love you, sweetheart!”
“Oh! Oh! Think of Dicky!”
He released her at that, and sprang to his feet.
“Why should I think of him? ‘Tis of you and myself I think! Only a week ago you vowed he was unkind—”
“You are monstrous wicked to remind me of that! We were both cross—and then we were both sorry. I am very fond of poor Dicky.”
“Fond of him! Ay, so you may be, but you do not love him! Not as a woman loves a man—do you?”
“Harold!”
“Of course you do not! You used to love me—no, do not shake your head, ‘tis true! You would have married me had it not been for Tracy.”
“Oh, Harry! How can you say so? What had he to do with it?”
“What, indeed! Whose fault was it that I was time after time refused admittance at Andover? Whose fault was it that you were induced to marry Carstares?”
“Not Tracy’s. ‘Twas my own wish.”
“Fostered by his influence?”
“Oh, no!”
“You never loved Carstares—”
“I did! I do!”
“You may think so, but I know better. Why, he is not even suited to you! You were made for life and pleasure and hazard! With me you would have had all that; with him—”
She had risen to her feet and drawn nearer to him, her eyes sparkling, but now she covered her ears with her hands and stamped pettishly.
“I will not listen! I will not, I tell you! Oh, you are unkind to plague me so!”
Lovelace took her into his arms once more, and drawing down her hands, kissed her again and again. She resisted, trying to thrust him off, but she was crushed against him, and he would have kissed her again, had not there come an interruption.
A knock fell on the door, and the footman announced:
“His Grace of Andover, m’lady!”
The guilty pair sprang apart in the nick of time, she fiery red, he pale, but composed.
His Grace stood in the doorway, his quizzing glass raised inquiringly. His eyes went swiftly from one to the other and widened. He bowed elaborately.
“My dear Lavinia! Captain Lovelace, your very obedient!”
Lovelace returned the bow with much flourish.
“Your Grace!”
“Dear me, Tracy!” cried Lavinia, advancing. “What an unexpected visit!”
“I trust I have not arrived at an inopportune moment, my dear?”
“Oh, no!” she assured him. “I am quite charmed to see you! But at such an early hour—! I confess, it quite astonishes me!” She brought him to a chair, chattering like a child, and so innocent was his expression, so smiling his attitude towards the Captain, that she imagined that he suspected nothing, and had not noticed her blushes.
It was only when Lovelace had departed that she was undeceived. Then, when his Grace moved to a chair opposite her, she saw that he was frowning slightly.
“You—you are put out over something, Tracy?” she asked nervously.
The frown deepened.
“N-no. I am not ‘put out.’ I merely anticipate the sensation.”
“I—I don’t understand. What mean you?”
“At present, nothing.”
“Tracy, please do not be mysterious! Are you like to be put out?”
“I trust not, Lavinia.”
“But what annoys you?”
Instead of answering, he put a question:
“I hope you amused yourself well—last night, my dear sister?”
She flushed. Last night had been Lady Davenant’s masquerade, to which Lord Robert had conducted her. She had danced almost exclusively with Lovelace the whole evening, but as they were both masked, she was rather surprised
at the question.
“I enjoyed myself quite tolerably, thank you. You were there?”
“No, Lavinia, I was not there.”
“Then how do you kn—” She stopped in confusion, biting her lips. For an instant she caught a glimpse of his eyes, piercing and cold.
“How do I know?” smoothly finished his Grace “One hears things, Lavinia. Also—” he glanced round the room, “one sees things.”
“I—I don’t understand you!” she shot out, twisting the lace of her gown with restless, uneasy fingers.
“No? Must I then be more explicit?”
“Yes! Yes! I should be glad!”
“Then let me beg of you, my dear Lavinia, that you will commit no indiscretion.”
Her cheeks flamed.
“You mean—”
“I mean that you have grown too friendly with Harold Lovelace.”
“Well! What of it?”
His Grace put up his eyeglass, faintly astonished.
“What of it? Pray think a moment, Lavinia!”
“‘Tis not likely that I shall be the one to disgrace the name, Tracy!”
“I sincerely hope not. I give you my word I should do all in my power to prevent any foolhardy action on your part. Pray do not forget it.”
She sat silent, biting her lips.
“It is, my child, unwise to play with fire. Sooner or later one gets burnt. And remember that your gallant captain has not one half of Richard’s wealth.”
Up she sprang, kicking her skirts as she always did when angered.
“Money! money!—always money!” she cried. “I do not care one rap for it! And Richard is not wealthy!”
“Richard is heir to wealth,” replied his Grace calmly. “And even an you are so impervious to its charms, I, my dear, am not. Richard is extremely useful to me. I beg you will not leave him for any such mad rake as Lovelace, who would be faithful to you for perhaps three months, certainly not longer.”
“Tracy, I will not have you speak to me like this! How dare you insult me so? I have given you no cause! I did not say I had any desire to run away with him—and he would be faithful to me! He has been faithful all these years!”
His Grace smiled provokingly.
“My dear—!”
“Oh, I know there have been episodes—indiscretions. Do you think I count him the worse for that?”
“Evidently not.”
“There has never been another serious love with him! I hate you!”
“You are overfree with your emotions, my dear. So you do indeed contemplate an elopement?”
“No, no, no! I do not! I am fond of Dicky!”
“Dear me!”
“Of course I shall not leave him!”
“Why then, I am satisfied,” he answered, and rose to his feet. “I shall look to see Captain Lovelace more out of your company.” He picked up his hat and cane and stood directly in front of her. One dead white hand, on which blazed a great ruby seal ring, took her little pointed chin in a firm clasp and tilted her head up until she was forced to meet his eyes. They held hers inexorably, scorchingly.
“You understand me?” he asked harshly.
Lavinia’s eyes filled with tears and her soft underlip trembled.
“Yes,” she fluttered, and gave a tiny sob. “Oh, yes, Tracy!”
The eyes lost something of their menacing gleam, and he smiled, for once without a sneer, and releasing
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