included in it no such members of the gentler sex as Lady Easterling. No sooner did he make mention of the hunting field than Jaisy edged her own mount forward, neatly cutting out her brother, and beamed upon him. “I, too, am a great deal addicted to sport!” she confided, with an air of what his lordship considered very excessive bonhomie. “That is a devilish good-looking screw you have there, sir! Splendid shoulders! Forelegs nicely before him! Great hocks and rump! You look startled, sir. I’ll warrant you are wondering how I come to know so much about horseflesh.”
In point of fact, Lord Carlin was wondering nothing of the sort, having been stricken nigh senseless by so bold a display of shockingly irregular conduct. “Indeed,” he murmured vaguely.
“ ‘Twas my husband taught me about proper highbred ‘uns!” Lady Easterling cheerfully confessed. “Easterling was a regular out-and-outer, may he rest in peace! You will have gathered, sir, that Easterling is deceased.”
This outspoken baggage was his friend Jevon’s sister, Lord Carlin sternly reminded himself. Only that relationship saved her from the sharp set-down that each additional word further convinced him was her just desert. “I am sorry to hear it,” he responded politely.
“I don’t see why you should be,” Lady Easterling replied frankly, “unless you was acquainted? I thought not! Easterling didn’t move in the first circles, though I’m sure he might have, had he wished. He was very old, you see. But hot so old that his faculties were affected! He was used to give me very good advice, such as it is never wise to bet against a dark horse, and that one should always try to get over heavy ground as light as one can.”
In an effort to be fair to his friend’s younger sister—surely Lady Easterling must have some redeeming qualities!—Lord Carlin subjected that outspoken damsel to a keen scrutiny. That Jaisy was a beauty signified little to his lordship; Kit was very well accustomed to damsels of that stamp, and accustomed also to being admired by them, and the target of their lures. One of the earliest lessons taught Kit at his papa’s knee was that the Carruthers fortune exercised a powerful fascination.
Jaisy, meantime, rattled on, under the highly erroneous impression that Lord Carlin was very much impressed with her good humor and her conversational expertise. She enlivened her account of a Derby Day that she’d attended in company with her husband with a full battery of arch looks and inviting glances, as befitted a lady well trained in the arts of coquetry. A regular country fair it had seemed, she professed, with fortune-telling gypsies, and booths where one could witness a melodrama, or dance, or try one’s luck at the roulette wheel or the thimble-rig. Upon an exclamation of horror as voiced by Miss Valentine, Lady Easterling quickly explained that she had not ventured within the booths where the menfolk engaged in sparring and hard drink, because Easterling had very solemnly warned her that it was not at all the thing. By Jove, they had been merry, she concluded with a chuckle, even if the prodigious dust raised by carriage wheels and equine as well as human feet had given everyone the appearance of chimney sweeps!
With the conclusion of this most enlightening dissertation, a brief silence descended upon the group. Lord Carlin struggled with a strong inclination to beat a hasty retreat from the presence of this vulgar chit who obviously sought to entangle him in her snares, while Lady Easterling congratulated herself that the dazed look in his lordship’s eye was a very hopeful sign; Jevon Rutherford wondered if perhaps, in indulging his own love of the ridiculous, he had done his friend Kit a grave disservice; Miss Valentine despaired of ever fashioning a silken purse out of this particular sow’s ear. Definitely, Lord Carlin was the highest of sticklers, as the dowager duchess had warned. He was also a man of no
In point of fact, Lord Carlin was wondering nothing of the sort, having been stricken nigh senseless by so bold a display of shockingly irregular conduct. “Indeed,” he murmured vaguely.
“ ‘Twas my husband taught me about proper highbred ‘uns!” Lady Easterling cheerfully confessed. “Easterling was a regular out-and-outer, may he rest in peace! You will have gathered, sir, that Easterling is deceased.”
This outspoken baggage was his friend Jevon’s sister, Lord Carlin sternly reminded himself. Only that relationship saved her from the sharp set-down that each additional word further convinced him was her just desert. “I am sorry to hear it,” he responded politely.
“I don’t see why you should be,” Lady Easterling replied frankly, “unless you was acquainted? I thought not! Easterling didn’t move in the first circles, though I’m sure he might have, had he wished. He was very old, you see. But hot so old that his faculties were affected! He was used to give me very good advice, such as it is never wise to bet against a dark horse, and that one should always try to get over heavy ground as light as one can.”
In an effort to be fair to his friend’s younger sister—surely Lady Easterling must have some redeeming qualities!—Lord Carlin subjected that outspoken damsel to a keen scrutiny. That Jaisy was a beauty signified little to his lordship; Kit was very well accustomed to damsels of that stamp, and accustomed also to being admired by them, and the target of their lures. One of the earliest lessons taught Kit at his papa’s knee was that the Carruthers fortune exercised a powerful fascination.
Jaisy, meantime, rattled on, under the highly erroneous impression that Lord Carlin was very much impressed with her good humor and her conversational expertise. She enlivened her account of a Derby Day that she’d attended in company with her husband with a full battery of arch looks and inviting glances, as befitted a lady well trained in the arts of coquetry. A regular country fair it had seemed, she professed, with fortune-telling gypsies, and booths where one could witness a melodrama, or dance, or try one’s luck at the roulette wheel or the thimble-rig. Upon an exclamation of horror as voiced by Miss Valentine, Lady Easterling quickly explained that she had not ventured within the booths where the menfolk engaged in sparring and hard drink, because Easterling had very solemnly warned her that it was not at all the thing. By Jove, they had been merry, she concluded with a chuckle, even if the prodigious dust raised by carriage wheels and equine as well as human feet had given everyone the appearance of chimney sweeps!
With the conclusion of this most enlightening dissertation, a brief silence descended upon the group. Lord Carlin struggled with a strong inclination to beat a hasty retreat from the presence of this vulgar chit who obviously sought to entangle him in her snares, while Lady Easterling congratulated herself that the dazed look in his lordship’s eye was a very hopeful sign; Jevon Rutherford wondered if perhaps, in indulging his own love of the ridiculous, he had done his friend Kit a grave disservice; Miss Valentine despaired of ever fashioning a silken purse out of this particular sow’s ear. Definitely, Lord Carlin was the highest of sticklers, as the dowager duchess had warned. He was also a man of no
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