“Foh!” said Mr. Stafford. “’Tis the rankest nonsense. And I’m not so prodigious like the Prince as all that.”
“Oh, but you are, Mr. Stafford! Didn’t my Lord Kilcroney take you for him but yesterday? With one of those new white chokers, and a frill to the shirt, and a bit of blue ribbon across it and a new wig with a top-knot to it, and a fine brocade waistcoat on your fine figure—you were always so clever at the acting, Brother-in-law!—I’d defy even your Prue to find you out!”
Mr. Stafford was apparently unconvinced, for Molly Lafone’s accents changed from wheedling to taunting.
“And indeed, Tom, I thought you’d more spirit. Here I give you such a chance as never was of paying my Lady out for the trick she played on you. Why, she made you the laughing-stock of Bath. Oh, I have heard such droll tales—how, rather than marry you, she made my Lord—Denis O’Hara, as he was then—dress up as a woman and pretend to be your previous wife at the altar steps. Are you so mean-spirited as to forget? And ’tisn’t as if it wouldn’t be the best turn in the world for my Lord, and him so good-natured, and treated so shameful! I thought gentlemen stood by each other. For a wife to insult her husband so!”
“It mightn’t put me in such very good odour with His Royal Highness,” said Mr. Stafford, and Pamela knew by his tone that he was faltering.
“As if anyone was likely to tell him. However, if you’re afraid, Brother-in-law——”
“You’re a little devil,” said Mr. Stafford.
And Pamela picked up her boxes and flew. She had heard enough, and she knew that Mistress Lafone had carried her point.
CHAPTER XIV
In which Kitty is more Incomparable Than Ever