‘Yes,’ agreed Eustacie. ‘I must say, that is true. He is very provoking, but one must be just, enfin, and own that he has been very clever and useful.’
Miss Thane turned her head to look up at Sir Tristram. ‘I wish you will tell me what you did,’ she said. ‘You were not on the Brighton mail, were you? Is it possible that you rode here ventre à terre ?’
‘No,’ replied Sir Tristram. ‘I came post.’
Miss Thane seemed to abandon interest in his proceedings.
‘Bringing with me,’ continued Sir Tristram, ‘a couple of Bow Street Runners. When we arrived here I learned from Nye that by some stroke of good fortune the Beau was actually in the house. I had been wondering how we were to prevail upon him to own the quizzing-glass, and the difficulties of luring him to this place without letting him get wind of a trap seemed to me to be quite considerable. When we heard that he was already here, it was easy to set our trap. The only thing I feared was that one or other of you might put him on his guard by showing surprise at seeing the quizzing-glass. You are to be congratulated on concealing your emotions so well.’
‘At first,’ confessed Eustacie, ‘I was entirely bouleversée, and quite unable to speak. Then Sarah frowned at me, and I thought it would be better to remain silent. I thought the Runner was one of Basil’s men, did not you, Sarah?’
‘Yes, I did at first,’ replied Miss Thane. ‘But when he picked up the glass I knew Sir Tristram must be at the back of it. Is Ludovic safe now? Will he be able to take his place in the world again?’
‘Yes, there can be no doubt of that. Basil lost his head, and his attempt to dispose of the ring was a complete betrayal. How do you feel, Miss Thane?’
‘Very uneasy,’ she replied. ‘I believe there is a lump on my forehead.’
‘It is already much less pronounced than it was,’ said Sir Tristram consolingly.
Miss Thane regarded him with misgiving. ‘Tell me at once, have I a black eye?’ she said.
‘No, not yet.’
She gave a shriek. ‘Not yet ? Do you mean that I shall have one?’
‘I should think it highly probable,’ he said, a laugh in his voice.
‘Bring me the hartshorn!’ begged Miss Thane in failing accents, and once more closing her eyes.
‘Certainly,’ said Sir Tristram. ‘Eustacie, fetch the hartshorn.’
‘She does not really want it, you know,’ explained Eustacie. ‘She is jesting.’
‘Nevertheless, fetch it,’ said Sir Tristram.
‘Eh bien!’ Eustacie shrugged, and went away to look for it.
Miss Thane opened her eyes again, and looked at Sir Tristram with e
ven more misgiving than before.
‘Sarah,’ said Sir Tristram, ‘I have a very important question to put to you. How many seasons have you spent at Almack’s?’
Miss Thane gazed at him with an expression of outrage in her face, and said: ‘Tristram, are you daring – actually daring – to choose this out of all other moments to make me an offer?’
‘Yes,’ replied Sir Tristram. ‘I am. Why not?’
Miss Thane sat up. ‘Have you no sense of romance?’ she demanded. ‘I won’t – no, I won’t be proposed to with my hair falling down my back, a bandage round my head, and very likely a black eye as well! It is quite monstrous of you!’
He smiled. ‘Indeed, you will. You look delightfully. Will you marry me?’
‘I have wronged you,’ said Miss Thane, much moved. ‘If you think I look delightfully at this present, you must be a great deal more romantic than I had supposed.’
‘It is a long time now since I have been able to look at you without thinking how very beautiful you are,’ said Sir Tristram simply.
‘Oh!’ said Miss Thane, blushing, ‘you forget yourself ! Do pray, recollect that you do not look for romance in marriage! Remember your previous disillusionment! This will never do!’
‘I see that I shall not easily be allowed to forget that nonsense,’ said Sir Tristram, taking her in his arms. ‘Now be serious for one moment, Sarah! Will you marry me?’