“I would do all within my power to prevent it!”
A slight smile crossed Mr. Westruther’s face. “But, then, there is really so little within your power, is there? If I were you—and this is the friendliest advice I can give you!—I would strive to forget Olivia, and continue to besiege Lady Maria’s citadel. I wish you very well at that, and will engage not to cast the least rub in your way. But you must not trespass upon my ground, you know. Not the smallest good can come of it, I do assure you. I am persuaded you did not come to London with the intention of marrying a penniless girl. Nor do I think you have sufficiently appreciated the determination of Mrs. Broughty. Perhaps you have no objection to the enquiries she will certainly make into your precise circumstances; but do, my dear d’Evron, consider what might be the consequences if some malicious person were to breathe into the lady’s ear a doubt—just a doubt!”
The Frenchman stiffened, and paused for a moment before replying: “In effect, you are offensive, sir!”
“Oh, no, no!” Mr. Westruther said gently. “You mistake!”
“I must believe you to be my enemy!”
“Again you mistake. I am sufficiently—how shall I put it?—an dme de bouei—to derive considerable enjoyment from watching your progress, Chevalier! It commands my admiration. Indeed, I should be sorry to see it blighted, and I wish you all success with the Yalding. There will be certain difficulties, of course, but she is both headstrong and obstinate, while you are adroit, and I am persuaded you will overcome them, carrying her off, as it were, in Annerwick’s teeth. That will afford quite a number of persons enjoyment. You are not acquainted with Lady Maria’s papa? You are to be felicitated: an unlovable man! And here we are at Duke Street!”
“I must thank you, sir, for bringing me here!” said the Chevalier formally, preparing to alight.
“A pleasure, believe me!” smiled Mr. Westruther. “Au revoir, my dear sir!”
Two days later, when driving Kitty in the Park, at the fashionable hour, he was able to observe the fruits of his encounter with her cousin. London was still a little thin of company, but the unusually clement weather, which had brought the hunting season to an early close, had tempted many to return to town. Quite a number of notabilities were to be seen, riding or driving in the Park, and Kitty was kept very well-entertained by Mr. Westruther’s pithy descriptions of their identities, their manners, and their foibles. It was when they were approaching the Riding House on their second circuit that they met Lady Maria Yalding’s barouche. A press of vehicles had brought both the barouche and the curricle momentarily to a standstill, and they stood alongside each other for long enough for the occupants of each to have time for recognition, and greetings. Beside Lady Maria’s buxom form, splendidly attired in purple, above which her high-coloured face rose triumphant, sat the Chevalier, listening with an air of absorbed interest to what she was saying. Upon the lady’s hailing Mr. Westruther in her bluff, rather loud-voiced way, he glanced up quickly, met Mr.
Westruther’s eyes, and at once turned his attention to Kitty, saying, as he took off his hat, and sketched a bow: “Ah, well met, my dear cousin! I do not know, Lady Maria, if you are acquainted with Miss Charing?”