‘Ulysses at the feet of Penelope!’ sneered Mr Portland. ‘Well, Ilfracombe, long as I’ve known you, I never saw you turned into a carpet knight before.’
‘Only for this evening,’ said the earl lazily, as he settled himself comfortably on the sofa.
Jack Portland appeared quite aggrieved by his defalcation.
‘Well, come along Sir Archibald and Lumley and the rest of you fellows. Don’t let us waste our time looking at his lordship doing the lardi-dardi. He owes me my revenge for the “fiver” he made me disgorge last night; but I suppose it’s no use trying to get it out of him now.’ And, with a rude laugh, he left the room.
Ilfracombe lent back against the shoulder of his wife, and said,—
‘Sing something, darling, won’t you? Something low and sweet, like “Come to me.” My head is really painful, and I want soothing to-night.’
‘I will sing anything you like,’ replied Nora, as she rose and went to the piano.
Her voice was not powerful, but she had received a first-rate musical education in Malta, and was an accomplished drawing-room singer. She ran through about half a dozen songs, one after the other, accompanying herself with a delicacy of touch and artistic expression which was more than half the battle. Ilfracombe listened to her with a dreamy pleasure, but all the time he was cogitating which would be the best plea on which to induce Nora to leave Usk Hall. He was determined not to run the risk of her meeting Nell Llewellyn again; but she was rather a wilful little lady, and wanted to know the why and the wherefore of everything. She had asked him not to go to Wales, and he had insisted on doing so—she had begged they should not exceed the week for which they had accepted the invitation, and he had told her but the day before that he wished to remain as long as Jack did. Now, he had to invent some excuse for leaving directly—what should it be? He was not a bright man; had he been so he would have known by this time that with Nora honesty was decidedly the best policy, because she was not easily deceived; and had he told her the truth, she would have been the first to wish to go. But he had a poor idea of women. He fancied that if his wife heard of the proximity of his former mistress there would be a ‘row’—that Nora would not be able to resist flaunting her triumph in the other woman’s face, nor Nell of telling his wife how far he had forgotten his duty to her in the pleasure and relief of finding that she (Nell) lived. Ilfracombe was a chivalrous gentleman; but it was not in his nature to love as either of these two women (whom he so much distrusted) loved him. But he managed to lay down a plan of action, as he lounged on the sofa listening to his wife’s singing, and as soon as they were alone he opened fire.
‘Nora,’ he said abruptly, ‘I’ve made up my mind to leave the Hall. How soon can you be ready?’
As he had anticipated, Lady Ilfracombe required to know the reasons which had induced him to alter his plans.