“I know you have been refusing to hear for the last two years.”
They were on the terrace now, she leaning on the broad marble balustrade, he standing beside her, and all the traffic of London moving with the tide below them.
“To return to our party,” she said, in a lighter tone, for that spurt of jealousy had betrayed her into seriousness. “It will be very awkward not to invite my sister to go with me.”
“If you did she would refuse, belike, for she is under Fareham’s thumb; and he disapproves of everything human.”
“Under Fareham’s thumb! What nonsense! Indeed I must invite her. She would think it so strange to be omitted.”
“Not if you manage things cleverly. The party is to be a surprise. You can tell her next morning you knew nothing about it beforehand.”
“But she will hear me order the barge—or will see me start.”
“There will be no barge. I shall carry you to Millbank in my coach, after your evening’s entertainment, wherever that may be.”
“I had better take my own carriage at least, or my chair.”
“You can have a chair, if you are too prudish to use my coach, but it shall be got for you at the moment. We won’t have your own chairman and links to chatter and betray you before you have played the ghost. Remember you come to my party not as a guest, but as a performer. If they ask why Lady Fareham is absent I shall say you refused to take part in our foolery.”