“I will,” said Mr. Beaumaris cordially.
“Well, you’d better take care what you are about!” said his worldly-wise friend.
“I will,” said Mr. Beaumaris again.
Lord Fleetwood occupied himself during the rest of the short drive in delivering a severe lecture on the perfidy of those who, without having any serious intentions, attempted to cut out their friends with the season’s most notable catch, adding, for good measure, a lofty condemnation of hardened rakes who tried to deceive innocent country maidens.
Mr. Beaumaris listened to him with the utmost amiability, only interrupting to applaud this last flight of eloquence. “That’s very good, Charles,” he said approvingly. “Where did you pick it up?”
“Devil!” said his lordship, with feeling. “Well, I wash my hands of you—and I hope she will lead you a pretty dance!”
“I have a strong premonition,” replied Mr. Beaumaris, “that your hope is likely to be realized.”
Lord Fleetwood gave it up, and as Mr. Beaumaris saw no reason to take him into his confidence, what little time was left before Mount Street was reached was occupied in discussing the chances of the newest bruiser in his forthcoming fight with an acknowledged champion.
Mr. Beaumaris, at this stage, would have been chary of confiding in anyone the precise nature of his intentions. He was by no means sure that he knew what they were himself, but that he had called in Park Street for precisely the reasons described by his friend, and, when confronted by the vision of Arabella fighting for the future of her unattractive protégé, had undergone an enlightenment so blinding as almost to deprive him of his senses, was certain. No consideration of the conduct to be expected of a delicately nurtured female had stopped her. She knew no discomfiture when two gentlemen of fashion had arrived to find her embroiled in the concerns of an urchin far beneath the notice of any aspirant to social heights. No, by God I thought Mr. Beaumaris exultantly, she showed us what she thought of such frippery fellows as we are! We might have gone to the devil for all she cared. I might have made her a laughingstock only by recounting the story—as I could! Lord, yes, as I could! Did she know it? Would she have cared? Not a farthing, the little Tallant! But I must stop Charles spreading this all over town.
Mr. Beaumaris, hunting now in earnest, was by far too experienced a sportsman to pursue his quarry too closely. He let several days pass before making any attempt to approach Arabella. When next he encountered her it was at a ball given by the Charnwoods. He asked her to stand up with him for one of the country-dances, but when the moment for taking their places in the set came, led her to a sofa, saying: “Shall you object to sitting down with me instead? One can never converse in comfort while dancing, and I must consult you about our urchin.”