He cast her an impatient glance, and replied, “I beg you will do precisely as you wish, ma’am. I cannot conceive what business it is of mine.”
“Of course I have explained to your uncle that we lead very quiet lives.”
“She won’t give a fig for that,” said Sir Horace comfortably. “She’s a good little thing, never at a loss for something to occupy herself with. Just as happy in a Spanish village as in Vienna, or Brussels.”
At this, Lady Ombersley sat up with a jerk. “Do not tell me you dragged the child to Brussels last year!”
“Of course she was in Brussels! Where the devil should she have been?” replied Sir Horace testily. “You wouldn’t have had me leave her in Vienna, would you? Besides, she enjoyed it. We met a great many old friends there.”
“The danger!”
“Oh, pooh! Nonsense! Precious little of that with Wellington in command!”
“When, sir, may we have the pleasure of expecting my cousin?” interposed Mr. Rivenhall. “We must hope that she will not find life in London too humdrum after the superior excitements of the Continent.”
“Not she!” said Sir Horace. “I never knew Sophy when she wasn’t busy with some ploy or another. Give her her head! I always do, and she never comes to any harm. Don’t quite know when she’ll be with you. She’s bound to want to see the last of me, but she’ll post up to London as soon as I’ve sailed.”
“Post up to London as soon as — Horace, surely you will bring her to me!” gasped his sister, quite scandalized. “A girl of her age, traveling alone! I never heard of such a thing!”