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abandoning the grand manner. “And you may tell your cousin Cassy, with my compliments, that she may as well spare herself the trouble, for I haven’t come to that yet! Now, don’t go blurting that out at her the first time you see her again! And stop chattering about my opera dancer! I’ve a very good mind to go up to the house and have a word with Edwin! Prating about my affairs all round the countryside! Now I know where my damned meddling uncle had it from! Pack of lies!”
    “Haven’t you got an opera dancer after all?” asked Miss Wantage. “Because if you haven’t, I will tell Isabella so myself, and then perhaps you can be comfortable.”
    “You won’t say anything about it at all!” said the harassed Viscount.
    “Yes, but Sherry—”
    "No, I tell you! For one thing, a pretty behaved female don’t mention such subjects; and for another—Well, you wouldn’t understand!” He encountered an inquiring look from the eyes which met his so frankly, and cast about in his brain for a suitable explanation. “Confound you, Hero, there’s nothing in it! Everyone has a fancy piece or two, but it don’t signify a jot, take my word for it!”
    Miss Wantage was perfectly ready to take his word, but she felt that the question had not been thoroughly thrashed out. “Well, but, Sherry, perhaps you did not explain it to Isabella quite well? Don’t you think—”
    “No, I don’t,” said his lordship hastily. “The long and the short of it is that Bella don’t care a rap for me.”
    Miss Wantage, finding this hard to believe, suggested that poor Isabella must have had the headache.
    “No, it wasn’t that. Not but what she did look a trifle pale, now you put me in mind of it. But Incomparable as ever!” he added loyally.
    “She is very pretty,” said Miss Wantage. “She even looked pretty when she had spots.”
    "Spots?" repeated the Viscount, in a stunned voice. “She never had a spot in her life!”
    “Well, not ordinary spots, like Sophy, but the ones you have with the measles, I mean.”
    “Isabella didn’t have the measles!”
    “Yes, she did,” replied Hero. “That’s why her Mama brought her home. She felt dreadfully poorly, and Mrs Milborne told Cousin Jane that the spots came all over her.”
    "No!" said the Viscount, revolted.
    “They do, you know,” explained Hero.
    “Of course I know that! But Isabella can’t have had the measles! They said she was worn down by the gaieties of London!”
    Hero looked surprised at this. “Well, I don’t know why they should have said that, because they must have known it was the measles. Two of the abigails had it as well, besides Mrs Milborne’s page.”
    “Good God!” said the Viscount. A grin dispelled the look of shocked dismay on his face. “So that’s why she wouldn’t receive anyone! Poor girl! By Jove, I’d give a monkey to see Severn’s face, if he knew! Deuced romantic fellow, Severn! Wouldn’t like it at all!”
    “Is he the Duke?” inquired Hero interestedly.
    Gloom descended once more upon her companion. He nodded.
    “Is—is she going to marry him, Sherry?”
    “It’s my belief he won’t come up to scratch,” replied the Viscount frankly. “Not that I care. My hopes are quite cut-up!”
    “Oh, Sherry, do you mind very much?” asked Hero, her heart wrung.
    “Of course I mind!” said his lordship testily. “My whole life is blighted! Might as well go to the devil without more ado. Which is what I very likely shall do, because if I don’t get my hands on my fortune I shall be punting on tick before you know where you are, and we all know what that means!”
    Hero nodded wisely. The Viscount laughed, and pinched her nose. “You haven’t a notion what it means! Never heard of a cent-per-cent in your life, have you, brat? Or of a poor devil finding himself in the basket?”
    “Yes, I have! That’s on all the stagecoaches, and you ride in it if you are very poor!”
    “Well, it may come to that yet,” grimaced