Horatia gave an involuntary shudder. “Yes, I—went to that.”
“Are you cold, Horry?”
“C-cold? No, sir, n-not at all.”
“I thought you shivered,” said his lordship.
“N-no,” said Horatia. “Oh, no! The—the Richmond House b-ball. It was vastly pretty, with fireworks, you know. Only my shoes p-pinched me, so I d-didn’t enjoy myself m-much. They were new ones, too, with diamonds sewn on them, and I was so c-cross I should have sent them back to the m-makers only they were ruined by the wet.”
“Ruined by the wet?” repeated the Earl.
Horatia’s fork clattered on her plate. That was what came of trying to make conversation! She had known how it would be; of course she would make a slip! “Oh, yes!” she said breathlessly. “I f-forgot to tell you! The b-ball was spoiled by rain. Wasn’t it a pity? I—I got my feet wet.”
“That was certainly a pity,” agreed Rule. “And what did you do yesterday?”
“Yesterday?” said Horatia. “Oh, I—I d-didn’t do anything yesterday.”
There was a laugh in his eyes. “My dear Horry, I never thought to hear such a confession from you,” he said.