Eventually everyone but Mrs Tenison was satisfied and prepared to leave. Athene handed the papers back to Madame Félice, saying, “My thanks, Madame. They were most instructive and I shall be sure to follow your advice.”
Madame smiled sweetly and said, “I am delighted that I was able to offer you assistance. It has been a pleasure to dress Miss Emma—I think that she is someone who will improve when her confidence grows. I trust, Miss Filmer, that you will be of equal assistance to her.”
Athene nodded, guiltily realising that in her efforts to attract Lord Kinloch, far from helping Emma, she was taking his attention away from her! On the other hand, there would be many young men who would be only too happy to court Emma—or “make a leg at her,” as the current fashionable slang had it, so she was not really depriving her of anything serious.
Nevertheless, what her old friend had said had made her feel uncomfortable, and she tried to console herself with the thought that if she did not look after herself, no one else would.
She took that thought with her into the drawing-room that afternoon when Lord Kinloch—with his attendant cousin—paid his promised visit to them. She had already decided that during her one afternoon off she would visit Bond Street and renew her friendship with Louise—or rather Madame Félice as she must now think of her.
She wondered crossly whether Lord Kinloch ever went anywhere without his interfering shadow: she was unhappily aware of Nick’s sardonic eye on her, even though she sat, all prim and proper, a little away from the main company. She was not wearing her cap, for after some strong—and private—words between Mrs Tenison and her husband, she had been informed after nuncheon that she was to leave it off in future.
Adrian was on his high ropes at the prospect of seeing Athene again, although for form’s sake he had to address most of his conversation to the Tenisons.
“I have the most interesting news for you,” he announced jovially. “I have decided that now that I have acquired a curricle I shall waste no time in racing it to Brighton. I intend to make it known that I am ready to accept any wager from anyone.”
“A reasonable wager, I trust,” said Nick sardonically.
“Of course,” said Adrian grandly—although no such proviso had entered his head. “I am not so green as to waste my fortune on it.”
Nick refrained from pointing out that his cousin had had little or no practice in driving his new toy, and to race it before he was fully ready to do so might be unwise, if not to say dangerous.
It was left to Mr Tenison to say reflectively, “I believe that curricle racing is not without danger, Lord Kinloch. Only the other week two reckless young men were racing at full speed towards Brighton and found themselves side by side on the road in the way of a large cart being driven by a farm labourer. All three vehicles ended up in the ditch. One of the young men broke his arm and the other his leg.”
Athene could not resist asking, “What happened to the poor labourer?”
“History does not relate,” said Nick. “It dealt only with two feckless idiots, and had little to say on the matter of the one poor soul trying to earn a living and who had been deprived of the ability to do so.”
“I think,” said Adrian, “that you may safely rely on me not to do anything foolish.”
Nick, knowing Adrian’s cheerful, if not to say feckless, optimism, doubted that very much. But he did not wish to give his cousin a put-down before the Tenisons.
Emma, however, remarked anxiously, “It sounds very dangerous to me. I beg of you to take care, Lord Kinloch, if you engage in anything so adventurous.”
“It’s little more so than riding a horse,” declaimed Adrian, who had already had this argument with Nick and was determined not to be put off something which was so dear to his heart. “Lots of fellows have raced to Brighton without coming to grief.”
Athene privately thought that Adrian was hardly the man to succeed in a venture which needed both skill and judgement beyond the common run, but she decided to say nothing, until Nick came out somewhat provocatively with, “And you, Miss Filmer, what do you think of Lord Kinloch’s engaging in this tricky pastime?”
“That it is not for me to question his judgement in the matter, since I have not yet seen him driving his curricle. If and when he feels that he is ready to take on all comers, then we must respect his decision.”
Nick could not help thinking, his expression growing more sardonic than ever, that Miss Filmer ought to be a man and then her talent for tactful and double-dealing answers could be put to practical use. His respect for her intellect grew as rapidly as his dislike for her apparent duplicity!
“Bravo, Miss Filmer,” said Adrian, who was quite unaware of the nuances in Athene’s answer. “So happy to see that not all of my friends are killjoys. You will be sure to cheer me on when I do decide to race.”
“Indeed, Lord Kinloch.”
“Come, come,” he said, beaming around on them all, “since you are now my friends I must be Adrian to the ladies and Kinloch to you, sir,” he ended, addressing Mr Tenison.
Such gracious condescension was meat and drink to Emma’s mother. Unaware that Athene was M’lord’s real target and not Emma, she drowned him in effusive thanks, already thinking of the happy day when she would be able to speak of Emma to her friends as “My daughter, Lady Kinloch”. She had, however, already added Nick to her lengthy list of people whom she disliked.
Mr Tenison remarked dryly, “Nevertheless, Kinloch, I am bound to support Mr Cameron’s reservations about the wisdom of your trying to race after such a short period of practice.”
His wife said sharply, “It is just like you, Mr Tenison, to throw cold water over young people’s pleasures. I am sure that Lord Kinloch knows what he is doing. We shall certainly cheer you on whenever you do race you may be sure of that, m’lord!”
Conversation, which had been general, now became particular. Adrian addressed himself to the three women, while Mr Tenison quietly continued his conversation of the previous evening with Nick, which had been interrupted by Emma’s return.
“If the others would not consider it impolite, I would like to invite you to take a short turn in my library. I have a rare edition there of Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy, of which we spoke last night and which you might like to inspect.”
Adrian, overhearing this, said benevolently, “By all means, sir. Take Nick to the library. Grubbing among the books will restore his high spirits.”
Nick said slowly, “If our hostess agrees…”
Mrs Tenison rapidly interrupted him. “By all means, Mr Tenison. We must keep our guests happy.”
She was delighted to learn that she and Emma—and Filmer, of course, but she didn’t count—were to be left alone with Adrian. She was even more delighted when Nick, the spirit of mischief moving in him, added, “On one condition, sir: that Miss Filmer accompanies us. I gather from something you said last night that she is something of a bookworm, too.”
Now, what’s his little game, thought Athene inelegantly, and furiously. Oh yes, I have it, he’s moving me from Adrian’s orbit so that he is compelled to concentrate on Emma, and not me.
There was no way, however, in which she could refuse such an offer, which was enthusiastically seconded by Mr Tenison who thought—wrongly—that it would be a great opportunity for Athene not to have to join in the vapid conversation which would surely follow when the only persons of sense were removed from the room.
Nick,