He was obliged to be satisfied, but nothing could have been more disastrous than the dance so grudgingly granted to him. He attempted every time the movement of the dance brought them together to continue a conversation which soon developed into a lively quarrel; and as Miss Milborne disliked being made to look ridiculous, and was well aware of the amused eyes upon them, she came near to losing her temper, and said some cutting things, which she did not mean, but which George took in very bad part.
“Dashed if I ever thought I should be so diverted at one of Almack’s Assemblies!” said Sherry frankly. “All the same, Kitten, I think we’ll be off before George comes off the floor, or I shall have you kissing him again as like as not, for he’ll certainly need comfort from the looks of it. Are you coming, Gil?”
Mr Ringwood expressed his readiness to leave the rooms, and as Ferdy wandered up at that moment, the Viscount invited them both to return with him to Half Moon Street for some more invigorating refreshment than was to be found at Almack’s. The Sheringhams’ carriage was called for, and the entire party withdrew, falling in with Sir Montagu Revesby in the vestibule downstairs, and leaving the building in his company. Sherry naturally begged him also to repair to Half Moon Street, but before Sir Montagu had time to reply to this invitation an interruption of an entirely unexpected nature occurred. A figure which had been standing motionless alongside the house started forward, and was seen in the light of a street lantern to be a young woman, clasping in her arms a bundle wrapped in a shawl. If she had not been so haggard, she would have been remarkably pretty, but her face was deathly pale, and there was such a distraught look in her eyes that they seemed scarcely sane. She paid no heed to Hero, descending the steps of the house on Sherry’s arm, but put herself in Sir Montagu’s way, and said in a low, imploring voice: “They told me at your lodging that you would not see me, that you was come here, but I must, I must speak with you! For God’s sake, do not cast me off! Again and again I have been to your lodging, but it is always the same answer which I get! I am desperate, Montagu, desperate!”
There was a moment’s appalled silence. Everyone stood still, Ferdy goggling at the stranger, and Revesby holding himself tense, his hand clenched on his walking-cane. He looked suddenly pale, but it might have been the uncertain lamplight which made him appear so. His voice broke the silence. “My good young woman, you are making a mistake,” he said languidly. “I fancy I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance.”
A moan burst from the girl. “Cruel! Cruel!” she uttered. “Acquaintance! Oh, my God! You shall not cast me off so, you dare not! I will follow you wherever you go! Have you no pity, no compassion? Will you disown your own child? Look! Can you see this innocent, and be unmoved by the ruin you have brought on me?” She opened the shawl as she spoke and disclosed a sleeping infant.
“Good God!” said Mr Ringwood.
“I never saw you before in my life,” said Revesby, still smiling, “You are certainly mad, and I must suppose you to have escaped from Bedlam.”
“Mad! No! Yet if I am not it is small thanks to you!” she cried wildly. “You said it should be well with me, you promised me — you swore to me — ”
“For the lord’s sake, Sherry, get your wife out of this!” said Mr Ringwood, in an urgent under-voice. “We shall have a crowd about us in a trice!”
Sherry, who had been standing transfixed by amazement, pulled himself together. “Yes, by God!” he said. “Here, Kitten, into the carriage! Can’t be dawdling here all night!”