He told her that he had some business to transact near St. Paul’s adding that he should not keep her waiting above five minutes. If this was a shaft aimed at the length of time she had spent in the bank he missed his aim, for Sophy said in the most amiable way that she did not mind waiting. This was a much more successful shaft. Mr. Rivenhall began to think that in Miss Stanton-Lacy he had met an opponent to be reckoned with.
When he presently drew up in a street beside St. Paul’s, Sophy held out her hand, saying, “I will take them.” He therefore put the reins into her hand, for although he did not trust her to control his spirited horses his groom was already at their heads, so that there was no likelihood of any mishap. Sophy watched him walk into the tall building, and pulled off one of her lavender kid gloves. The east wind was blowing quite strongly, certainly strongly enough to whirl a lady’s glove, tossed to it, into the gutter on the farther side of the road. “Oh, my glove!” exclaimed Sophy. “Please run quickly, or it will blow quite away! Don’t fear for the horses. I can handle them!”
The groom found himself in a quandary. His master would certainly not expect him to leave the grays unattended; on the other hand, someone must rescue Miss Stanton-Lacy’s glove, and the street was momentarily deserted. Judging by what he had been able to hear of the lady’s conversation, she at least knew enough about driving to be able to hold the grays for a minute. They were standing quite quietly. The groom touched his hat and strode across the road.
“Tell your master that it is too chilly to keep the horses standing!” Sophy called after him. “I will tool the curricle round the streets for a few minutes, and come back to take him up when he is ready!”
The groom, who was stooping tot pick up the glove, nearly fell over, so swiftly did he spin round. He had an excellent view of Miss Stanton-Lacy driving at a smart pace up the street. He made a gallant but belated attempt to catch the curricle, but it swept round a corner just as the wind blew his hat off, and sent it bowling down the street.
It was nearly half an hour later when the curricle again came into sight. Mr. Rivenhall, awaiting it with folded arms, had ample opportunity to observe with what precision his cousin rounded the comer and how well she handled the reins and whip, but he did not appear to be much gratified, for he watched the approach of the vehicle with a scowl on his brow and his lips tightly gripped together. Of his groom there was no sign.
Miss Stanton-Lacy, pulling up exactly abreast of Mr. Rivenhall, said cheerfully, “I beg your pardon, I have kept you waiting! The thing is that I do not know my way about London, and became quite lost, and was obliged to inquire the direction no less than three times. But where is your groom?”
“I have sent him home!” replied Mr. Rivenhall.
She looked down at him, her expressive eyes brimful of amusement. “How very right of you!” she approved. “I like a man to think of everything. You could never have quarreled with me really well with that man standing up behind us and overhearing every word you uttered.”
“How dared you drive my horses?” demanded Mr. Rivenhall thunderously. He mounted into his seat, and snapped, “Give me the reins at once!”