“Oh no, he need not be that! I know a nonpareil — quite a nonesuch, I assure you! Drives to an inch! — but I should not care to elope with him. Of course, I think a man should know how to stick to his leaders, do not you?”
“Unquestionably,” he said gravely.
“And as for the tulips, I know several, and they would not do for me at all. Besides, they are not romantic, because they have to think so much about their cravats and their coats and the size of their buttons that they have no time for anything besides. The most truly romantic man I know does not give a fig for what he may look like. It would not do for everyone to be so careless, of course, but he is so extremely handsome that it don’t signify a scrap.”
“Ah, I begin to fear that this dangerous blade is the man destined to carry you off!”
She laughed. “No, indeed you are quite mistaken! He is madly in love with someone else! And in any event, I think he would make a very uncomfortable husband, for whenever he is out of humour he wants to fight a duel.”
“That would certainly be a drawback,” he agreed. “It is to be hoped he is not frequently out of humour!”
“Oh yes! He takes a pet for the least little thing!” said Hero cheerfully. “And the mischief is that he is such a fine shot that no one will oblige him by going out with him. It puts him out of all patience sometimes, and indeed one cannot wonder at it. But only conceive how tiresome it would be to be married to such a man!”
“You can have no notion how glad I am to discover that you favour a milder-tempered bridegroom, Miss Wantage,” said Mr Tarleton, keeping his face prim. “Er — must your future husband be a very young gentleman?”
She had forgotten herself in talking of Sherry’s friends; Mr Tarleton’s last words recalled her to a sense of her surroundings. She started, almost afraid that she might have betrayed herself, and blushed vividly, saying in a hurried way: “It is all nonsense! I do not know how we come to be talking of such absurdities. Tell me about the chestnuts General Crawley says you are meaning to buy from him! Do you mean to drive them in your curricle? Are they sweet-goers? I was used to drive a high-stepping grey, in a phaeton, you know — very free and fast, and with the lightest of mouths! I won a race once — a private race, I mean,” she added, a stricken expression entering her eyes for an instant at the memory this conjured up.
“So you are a whip!” Mr Tarleton exclaimed. “I might have guessed it indeed! But, come, this is famous! The chestnuts you speak of are a match pair — beautiful steppers! If I purchase them from the General, may I hope that you will honour them, and me, by driving them?”