He looked suspiciously at her. “Now, Sophy, this won’t do! It was you who helped her to live in that damned poet’s pocket, for Charles told me so!”
“Yes, and only see with what splendid results! She no longer has any real desire to wed him and has come to see how superior Charlbury is! If Charles had not meddled, all would have gone just as you would have wished!”
“I don’t understand a word of this!” complained his lordship.
“Very likely not. It has in great measure been due to poor little Amabel’s illness.”
“But,” persisted her uncle, painstakingly attempting to follow the thread of her argument, “if she is now willing to listen to Charlbury, why the devil don’t he renew his suit?”
“I daresay he would, if I would let him. It would be useless. Only consider, sir, in what a fix poor Cecy finds herself! She has kept Augustus dangling after her for months, has sworn she will wed him or none! You have only to consent to the alliance, and she must feel herself bound to marry him! At all costs, any formal announcement must be stopped! You may do this, and I beg you will! Do not listen to anything Charles may say to you!” Her expressive eyes laughed at him. “Be as disagreeable to Cecilia as you were before! Nothing could serve the purpose better!”
He pinched her cheek. “You rogue! But if Charles has changed his mind — You know, Sophy, I am no hand at argument!”
“Then do not argue with him! You have only to fly into a towering passion, and that, know, you are well able to do!”
He chuckled, seeing in this pronouncement a compliment. “Yes, but if they give me no peace — ”
“My dear sir” you may seek refuge at White’s! Leave the rest to me! If you will but do your part, I fancy I cannot fail to do mine. I have only this to add! On no account must you divulge that I have been speaking to you on this matter! Promise!”