He paid no heed to her but strode forward into the room. “You will no doubt like to know, sir, that your precious daughter has gone off with Everard Charlbury!” he announced.
“Has she?” said Sir Horace. “What has she done that for, I wonder? I’ve no objection to her marrying Charlbury! Good family, handsome property!”
“She did it,” said Mr. Rivenhall, “to infuriate me! And as for her marrying Charlbury, she will do no such thing!”
“Oh, won’t she?” said Sir Horace, keeping his glass leveled on his nephew’s face. “Who says so?”
“ I say so!” snapped Mr. Rivenhall. “What is more, she has not the smallest intention of such a thing! If you do not know your daughter, I do!”
Lady Ombersley, who had listened in speechless dismay to this interchange, now found enough voice to say faintly, “No, no, she would not run away with Charlbury! You must be mistaken! Alas, Charles, I fear this is your doing! You must have been dreadfully unkind to poor Sophy!”
“Oh, dreadfully unkind, ma’am! I actually had the brutality to take exception to her stealing the young chestnut from my stables, and, without one word to me, driving him in the Park! That she is not lying with a broken neck at this moment is no fault of hers!”
“Now, that,” said Sir Horace fair-mindedly, “was wrong of her! In fact, I’m surprised to hear of her behaving so improperly, for it is not at all like her. What should have got into her to make her do such a thing?”
“Merely her damnable desire to pick a quarrel with me!” said Mr. Rivenhall bitterly. “I see it all now, clearly enough, and if she is not careful she will find she had succeeded better than she bargained for!”
“I am afraid, my boy,” said his uncle, an irrepressible twinkle in his eye, “that you do not like my little Sophy!”