‘It’s a caution,’ said her companion. ‘I’ve had to positively drag Sir Archibald away from him sometimes, for fear he should get up from the table without a halfpenny. But it’s a lovely game. So much excitement. We are at it at Usk Hall sometimes till four in the morning. We are terrible gamblers up there.’
‘See!’ cried the duchess, standing up in the drag; ‘they’re off!’
After which they spent a couple of very fatiguing hours watching the various races, and jotting down the first, second and third winners on their cards, during which time the men did not come near them, so occupied were they by the business of the betting-ring and the excitement provided for them there. When it was at last all over, and their party returned to the drag, Nora observed that Ilfracombe was looking very flushed, and talking very fast, a sufficiently unusual circumstance with him to attract her notice. Mr Portland, on the contrary, seemed to take things much more coolly; whilst the baronet had lost some of his hilariousness, and Lord Moberly was congratulating himself that he had not been persuaded to back the favourite.
‘Well, and how have you all fared?’ cried the duchess gaily, as they came within hailing distance.
‘Sir Archibald, I feel certain you have been making a fool of yourself!’ exclaimed his wife. ‘I can see it in the set of your tie. Very well. Back you go to Usk to-morrow, and you’ll have to put up with mutton and potatoes till we’ve recouped ourselves. Now, what have you lost? Out with it!’
‘Nonsense, Dolly, nonsense,’ replied the baronet, as he tried to evade her scrutiny. ‘A mere trifle, I assure you; not worth thinking about. When did you ever know me make a fool of myself over races?’
‘Scores of times,’ replied her ladyship decidedly, as she whispered in his ear.
Nora did not ask any questions, nor make any remarks, but she gazed at her husband in a wistful way as if she would read from his features whether he had been lucky or otherwise. Ilfracombe did not voluntarily look her way; but after a while he felt the magnetism of her glance, and raised his eyes to hers. The silent anxiety he read in them seemed to annoy him. He frowned slightly, and affecting unusual hilarity, climbed to his seat and seized the reins.
‘Now for a good scamper back to town!’ he exclaimed. ‘We must not let the riff-raff get ahead of us, or we shall be smothered in dust. Are you tired, darling?’ he continued over his shoulder to his wife; ‘or would you like to go to the Oaks on Friday? What do you think of our national race-course and our national game?’
‘I have been very much amused. I liked it very much,’ answered Nora in a conventional manner; but the tone of her voice did not convey much satisfaction. But as Ilfracombe and she were dressing for a big dinner-party, to which they were engaged that evening, she crept to his side and asked him shyly,—