His lordship, still clasping her to his bosom, rolled an anguished eye at Sophy. She came promptly to his rescue. “Only a flesh wound, dearest Cecy! Footpads — or do I mean highwaymen? — yes, highwaymen! Just a flurry of shots, you know, and poor Charlbury had the misfortune to be hit! But they were driven off, and we took no other hurt. Charlbury behaved with the greatest presence of mind imaginable — perfectly cool, and more than a match for such rascals!”
“Oh, Charlbury!” sighed Cecilia, overcome by the thought of such intrepid conduct.
His lordship, soothingly patting her shoulder, could not resist asking, “How many of the desperate ruffians did I vanquish, Sophy?”
“That,” said Sophy, quelling him with a frown, “we shall never know!”
Miss Wraxton’s cool voice broke in on this. However glad she might be to see Cecilia’s difference with Charlbury made up, her sense of propriety was really lacerated by the spectacle of Cecilia nestling within his lordship’s arm. “My dear Cecilia, pray recollect yourself!” she said, blushing, and averting her gaze.
“I do not know what I should do!” suddenly announced Lord Bromford, in lamentable accents. “I came with the purpose of calling that fellow to book, but I have caught a cold!”
“If that is to my address,” said Charlbury, “a cold may well be the least of the ills that will shortly befall you! Don’t tread on the ducklings!”
“No, indeed!” said Sophy, swooping on one that had narrowly escaped death under Bromford’s foot. “What a clumsy creature you are! Do, pray, take heed where you are stepping!”
“I should not be amazed if already I have a fever,” said Bromford, uneasily eying the ducklings. “Miss Wraxton, these birds! One does not keep birds in the house! I do not understand why they are running all over the floor. There is another! I do not like it. It is not what I have been used to.”
“I hope, dear Lord Bromford, that nothing that has occurred this day is what either you or I has been used to,” responded Miss Wraxton. “Do let me beg of you to take off that greatcoat! Believe that it was no wish of mine that you were compelled to ride through such a downpour! If you have done your constitution any lasting injury I can never forgive myself for having accepted your escort! Your boots are wet through! Nothing can be more fatal than chilled feet! Miss Stanton-Lacy, is it too much to request that a servant — I presume there is a servant here? — should be sent for to remove Lord Bromford’s boots?”