Arabella (Regency Romances) by Georgette Heyer

Author:Georgette Heyer [Heyer, Georgette]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2009-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

Ten

When Arabella had parted from Mr Beaumaris at the door of Lady Bridlington’s house, the butler who had admitted her informed her that two gentlemen had called to see her, and were even now awaiting her in the smaller saloon. This seemed to her a trifle unusual, and she looked surprised. The butler explained the matter by saying that one of the young gentlemen was particularly anxious to see her, since he came from Yorkshire, and would not be unknown to her. A horrid fear gripped Arabella that she was now to be exposed to the whole of London, and it was with an almost shaking hand that she picked up the visiting-card from the salver the butler was holding out to her. But the name elegantly inscribed upon it was unknown to her: she could not recall ever having heard of, much less met, a Mr Felix Scunthorpe.

‘Two gentlemen?’ she said.

‘The other young gentleman, miss, did not disclose his name,’ replied the butler.

‘Well, I suppose I must see them,’ Arabella decided. ‘Pray tell them that I shall be downstairs directly! Or is her ladyship in?’

‘Her ladyship has not yet returned, miss.’

Arabella hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry. She went up to her room to change her soiled gown, and came down again some few minutes later hoping that she had schooled her face not to betray her inward trepidation. She entered the saloon in a very stately way, and looked rather challengingly across it. There were, as the butler had warned her, two young gentlemen standing by the window. One was a slightly vacuous looking youth, dressed with extreme nicety, and holding, besides his tall hat, an ebony cane, and an elegant pair of gloves; the other was a tall, loose-limbed boy, with curly dark hair, and an aquiline cast of countenance. At sight of him, Arabella uttered a shriek, and ran across the room to cast herself upon his chest. ‘Bertram!’

‘Here, I say, Bella!’ expostulated Bertram, recoiling. ‘Mind what you are about, for the lord’s sake! My neckcloth!’

‘Oh, I beg your pardon, but I am so glad to see you! But how is this? Bertram, Papa is not in town?’

‘Good God, no!’

‘Thank heaven!’ Arabella breathed, pressing her hands to her cheeks.

Her brother found nothing to wonder at in this exclamation. He looked her over critically, and said: ‘Just as well he ain’t, for he’d be bound to give you one of his scolds for dressing-up as fine as fivepence! I must say, Bella, you’re turned out in prime style! Slap up to the mark, ain’t she, Felix?’

Mr Scunthorpe, much discomposed at being called upon to give an opinion, opened and shut his mouth once or twice, bowed, and looked despairing.

‘He thinks you’re complete to a shade,’ explained Bertram, interpreting these signs. ‘He ain’t much of a dab with the petticoats, but he’s a great gun, I can tell you! Up to every rig and row in town!’

Arabella looked at Mr Scunthorpe with interest. He presented the

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