Devil's Cub by Georgette Heyer Read Free Book Online

Who would not be? But it’s not marriage he means by you, and it will be something quite otherwise if he sees you in such loose company as you keep.” She stayed for a moment, awaiting any answer they might choose to give, but Mrs. Challoner for once had nothing to say, while Sophia sought refuge in a few sparkling easy tears. Having nothing further to say, Mary gathered up her embroidery and went out.
    She might as well have held her peace. Uncle Henry having been coaxed into providing the necessary guineas to buy his pretty niece a new gown, Sophia went off to her party in high spirits, entirely, and quite rightly, satisfied with her appearance in pink tiffany, trimmed with rich blonde in scallops. Cousin Joshua, getting wind of it, came to condemn such behaviour, but got little satisfaction from Mary. She heard him out in a silence that seemed more abstracted than attentive and this so piqued him that he was unwise enough to ask her whether she were listening.
    She brought her gaze back from the window, and surveyed him. “I beg your pardon, cousin?”
    He was annoyed, and showed it “I believe you’ve not heard one word!” he said.
    “I was thinking,” said Mary thoughtfully, “that puce does not become you, Joshua.”
    “Puce?” stammered Mr. Simpkins. “Become me? What—Why—?”
    “It is maybe your complexion that’s too high for it,” mused Miss Challoner.
    Mr. Simpkins said with dignity: “I was speaking of Sophia, Mary.”
    “I’m sure she would agree with me,” replied the lady maddeningly.
    “She’s too easy, cousin. She don’t know the path she treads,” Joshua said, trying to bring the conversation back to its original topic. “She’s very different from you, you know.”
    A slow smile curled Miss Challoner’s lips. “I do, of course, but it’s hardly kind in you to tell me so,” she said.
    “In my eyes,” declared Joshua, “you are the prettier.” Miss Challoner seemed to consider this. “Yes?” she said interestedly. “But then, you chose puce.” She shook her head, and it was apparent she set no store by the compliment. When Sophia returned from her party it was long past midnight She shared a bedchamber with her sister, and found Mary awake, ready to hear an account of the night’s doings. While she undressed she prattled on of this personage and that, of the toilettes she had seen, of the supper she had eaten, of the secret walk she had stolen, and the kiss she had received, of how Eliza had come upon them, and been near sick with jealousy, and much more to the same tune. “And I’ll tell you what, Mary,” she ended jubilantly, “I shall be my Lady Vidal before the year’s out, you mark my words.” She curtsied to her own reflection in the mirror. “‘Your ladyship!’ Don’t you think I shall make a vastly pretty marchioness, sister? And everyone knows the Duke is getting very old, and I dare say he can’t last very long now, and then I shall be your grace. If you don’t wed my cousin, Mary, maybe I shall find you a husband.”
    “What, have I a place in all these schemes?” inquired Mary.
    “To be sure, you need not fear I shall forget you,” Sophia promised.
    Mary regarded her curiously for a moment. “Sophia, what’s in your mind?” she asked suddenly. “You’re not fool enough to think Vidal means marriage.”
    Sophia began to plait her hair for the night. “He’ll mean it before the end. Mamma will see to that.”
    “Oh?” Mary sat up in bed, and cupped her chin in her hands. “How?”
    Sophia laughed. “You think no one has brain but yourself, don’t you? But you’ll see I shan’t manage so ill. Of course Vidal don’t mean marriage! Lord, I’m not so simple that I don’t know the reputation he bears. What if I let him run off with me?” She looked over her shoulder. “What then, do you suppose?”
    Mary blinked. “I’m too mealy-mouthed to hazard a guess, my love.”
    “Don’t fear for my virtue!” Sophia laughed. “Vidal