It did not take her long to hit upon the very thing. There was to be a ridotto held at Ranelagh, which, to tell the truth, she had given up all idea of attending, Rule having refused quite unmistakably to escort her. There had been a slight argument over the matter, but Rule had ended it by saying pleasantly: “I don’t think you would care for it, my dear. It won’t be a very genteel affair, you know.”
Horatia was aware that public ridottos were looked upon by the select as very vulgar masquerades, and she accepted the Earl’s decision with a good grace. She had heard all sorts of scandalous tales of the excesses committed at such affairs, and had really no wish, beyond a certain curiosity, to be present at one.
But now that battle was joined with the Earl a different complexion was put on the matter and it seemed all at once eminently desirable that she should attend the Ranelagh ridotto, with Lethbridge, of course, as her escort. There could be no fear of scandal, since both would be masked, and the only person who should know of the prank was my Lord of Rule. And if that did not rouse him, nothing would.
The next step was to enlist Lord Lethbridge. She had feared that this might prove a little difficult (since he was so anxious not to cast a slur on her good name), but it turned out to be quite easy.
“Take you to the ridotto at Ranelagh, Horry,” he said. “Now, why?”
“B-because I want to go, and Rule wo—can’t take me,” said Horatia, correcting herself hurriedly.
His oddly brilliant eyes held a laugh. “But how churlish of him!”
“N-never mind that,” said Horatia. “W-will you take me?”
“Of course I will,” replied Lethbridge, bowing over her hand.
So five evenings later Lord Lethbridge’s coach drew up in