“My lord,” said Sir James Brooke, “we shall be late.”
Lord Colambre, withdrawing his whip from Mrs. Petito, turned his horse away. She, stretching over the back of the barouche as he rode off, bawled to him, “My lord, we’re at Stephen’s Green, when we’re at Dublin.” But as he did not choose to hear, she raised her voice to its highest pitch, adding, “And where are you, my lord, to be found?—as I have a parcel of Miss Nugent’s for you.”
Lord Colambre instantly turned back, and gave his direction.
“Cleverly done, faith!” said the major.
“I did not hear her say when Lady Dashfort is to be in town,” said Captain Bowles.
“What, Bowles! have you a mind to lose more of your guineas to Lady Dashfort, and to be jockeyed out of another horse by Lady Isabel?”
“Oh, confound it—no! I’ll keep out of the way of that—I have had enough,” said Captain Bowles; “it is my Lord Colambre’s turn now; you hear that Lady Dashfort would be very proud to see him. His lordship is in for it, and with such an auxiliary as Mrs. Petito, Lady Dashfort has him far Lady Isabel, as sure as he has a heart or hand.”
“My compliments to the ladies, but my heart is engaged,” said Lord Colambre; “and my hand shall go with my heart, or not at all.”
“Engaged! engaged to a very amiable, charming woman, no doubt,” said Sir James Brooke. “I have an excellent opinion of your taste; and if you can return the compliment to my judgment, take my advice: don’t trust to your heart’s being engaged, much less plead that engagement; for it would be Lady Dashfort’s sport, and Lady Isabel’s joy, to make you break your engagement, and break your mistress’s heart; the fairer, the more amiable, the more beloved, the greater the triumph, the greater the delight in giving pain. All the time love would be out of the question; neither mother nor daughter would care if you were hanged, or, as Lady Dashfort would herself have expressed it, if you were d——d.”
“With such women I should think a man’s heart could be in no great danger,” said Lord Colambre.