She was seated in her Mama’s barouche next day outside a shop in Bond Street, waiting for Mrs Milborne to accomplish the purchase of a bottle of Distilled Water of Pineapples (to discourage wrinkles), when Sherry came sauntering down the street, looking rather rakish, with his curly-brimmed beaver set at an angle on his fair head, and the drab Benjamin he wore (for the autumn morning was chilly), hanging negligently open to allow the interested a glimpse of a tightly fitting coat of superfine, a very sporting waistcoat, and a natty pair of yellow buckskins. He stopped beside the barouche, and stayed chatting to Miss Milborne with his usual good humour, and a complete absence of the sort of constraint that might have been expected in a young gentleman finding himself vis-a-vis the lady who had so lately rejected his proffered suit. He had been at Jackson’s Saloon, attempting like every other young blood of the Fancy to pop in a hit over the ex-champion’s guard, and was now on his way to White’s, where he had an assignation with Mr Ringwood. He paid Miss Milborne an extravagant compliment or two, but as he followed these up by saying that now he came to think of it he had not seen her very lately, she was in no danger of taking his gallantry seriously.
“You were not at Almack’s last night, or you might have seen me,” she remarked.
His brow darkened, for although he bore his wife no grudge for the events of the previous evening, he still felt unaccountably aggrieved whenever he thought of George’s share in them. “No,” he said shortly.
Miss Milborne, quick to catch the note of dissatisfaction in his voice, would have been less than human had she forborne to probe further. She cast down her eyes to the lavender kid gloves she wore and said, smoothing them over her wrists: “I was glad to see Lady Sheringham, however, and in such spirits.”
The Viscount’s blue gaze became fixed on her face. “Oh!” he said. “In spirits, was she? Ha!”
“She was much admired,” said Miss Milborne calmly. “Indeed, I wish you had been there, for she looked delightfully!”
“I’ll take precious good care I’m there the next time she goes to that dam — dashed place!” promised his lordship.
“I am sure Lord Wrotham took excellent care of her.”
“Well, I’ll thank him to take care of someone else’s wife!” said his lordship irascibly.
Miss Milborne began to feel alarmed. She abandoned her formal manners and asked directly: “Sherry, you are not jealous of George, are you?”