Page 59 of Henrietta

‘By God, have you seen the like?’ Arthur murmured, once they had recovered themselves.

‘It might become all the rage,’ Hetty pointed out, smiling. She was rather thrilled to have regained their usual rapport – their previous disagreement seemed, thankfully, to have been forgotten.

‘Good Lord, I hope not—’

‘Goodness me.’ The Marquis, approaching from behind, had his eyes also fixed upon Timothy. ‘Are such arrangements normal in England?’

The smile slid from Arthur’s face. ‘It’s called the Allerton Flop,’ he said shortly. ‘I’m surprised you have not heard of it.’

‘Are you quizzing me?’ Nicolet wondered; then – not seeming particularly interested in the answer – he turned to Hetty. He had learnt his lesson from the night before, and had come to do request her hand for a dance.

‘May I hope, Miss Clithero—’

But Arthur, too, had learnt his lesson.

‘My dance, I think, Hetty!’ he interrupted, bearing her off to the floor before the Marquis even had the time to finish his sentence.

‘Rag manners, Arthur,’ Hetty said in a low voice, casting over her shoulder a glance of apology that she did not quite feel – for, in truth, she was by no means displeased by such high-handed behaviour.

As they took their places, Arthur was frowning in thought. He had not yet had occasion to speak to Hetty about the Marquis. Returning home from his contretemps with Trixie, he had found Hetty still out upon a shopping expedition with the very gentleman in question. Since they had also dined abroad that evening, he had had no opportunity to bend her ear in private and though broaching the subject in public had not been his intention, the thought of seeing Hetty having to dance with the cad was suddenly too much to bear. And so, when the movement of the dance permitted it, he told her, in a low voice: ‘I am afraid, Hetty, that I should advise you to distance yourself from the Marquis with utmost urgency. Some information has come to my attention that casts a very great shadow upon his character.’

The movement of the dance had them separated for a moment. Hetty cudgelled her mind for anything Nicolet could have said or done to warrant such suspicion, but could conjure nothing.

‘What is it?’ she asked when they were returned to one another.

‘Behaviour that is not befitting a man of honour,’ Arthur said darkly.

‘You cannot say such a thing and give no details,’ Hetty said rather impatiently. ‘Can you not speak frankly?’

Arthur shook his head. ‘I can hardly do so here. For tonight, you must simply avoid his company as best you can.’

Hetty regarded him rather incredulously. Did Arthur truly intend to issue such a decree without any further explanation? ‘Must I?’

Arthur did seem to hear her. As the dance finished, he peered through the crowd. ‘Let us find the Morgans, I can leave you with them while I—’

Hetty’s initial pleasure at such high-handed behaviour was giving way to frustration. ‘I am not a horse to be passed about, Arthur,’ she reminded him.

‘If you knew what I knew, then you would understand.’

‘How can I, when you will not tell me?’

‘Let us not quibble. You must trust me.’

‘I am not quibbling.’

They frowned at each other.

‘Mrs Morgan has just arrived,’ Hetty said, looking over his shoulder.

Arthur let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Hetty—’

‘I believe this is your dance with the Grandduchess,’ she overrode him, ‘so you need not trouble yourself to escort me.’

It was the first time Hetty had ever – to her recollection – given Arthur a set-down, but as she turned her shoulder upon him, she decided that there could be no doubt that he had deserved it. She passed, on her way back to Lady Allerton’s side, Timothy, who had managed – with the assistance of Mr Hargan and another friend, Mr Whitfield – to muscle to the front of the crowd of supplicants surrounding Mademoiselle de Nicolet, by brandishing a glass of lemonade at just the moment she had declared herself thirsty. Having prepared a suave opening line, Timothy found himself instantly distracted, for Mademoiselle de Nicolet had complimented his hair before he had even drawn her attention to it.

‘Much obliged to you,’ he said, putting a hand bashfully up to the Allerton Flop. ‘It’s a new design, you know.’

Mademoiselle de Nicolet replied, ‘Indeed, I must say I think the Corcott Fall will become all the rage.’