“Oh, no! You cannot know that!”
“Mrs Milborne told Lady Cowper so within my hearing.”
Hero looked dismayed, but rallied. “It can only be because they were more suited to that gown. Sit down, George! I am persuaded you refine too much upon it.”
He allowed himself to be pulled down on to the sofa beside her, but gave a groan. “I told her that if she wore my violets I should know what to think. I have had my answer, and may as well go and blow my brains out without more ado.”
“Oh, do not say so! You know, George, I think you should not have sent that message. Perhaps she may not have quite liked it. Have you spoken with her?”
He shook his head. “I could not trust myself. Besides, if I came within reach of that curst fellow, Severn, I should very likely find a means of picking a quarrel with him.”
“No, no, don’t do that! Should you like it if I were to try if I can discover Isabella’s feelings upon this occasion?”
“Thank you! I have observed her to be in excellent spirits!” he said bitterly. “That one so fair should be so heartless!”
“Indeed, I am sure she is no such thing! She has a little reserve, perhaps, and she does not confide in one, but I feel quite certain Severn has not engaged her affections.”
He was silent for a moment, pleating and repleating the handkerchief he held, his attention apparently absorbed in this foolish task. His lip quivered; he said in a hard voice: “She will marry him for his possessions, and his rank. It is plain enough.”