The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth CenturyHeyer, Georgette
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The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century
Heyer, Georgette
Aristocracy (Social class) -- England -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Regency fiction
"'Twould appear that Lavinia has recovered," remarked Andrew as they
mounted the steps. "She was ever thus--not two minutes the same. Well,
Lavvy?"
"Well, Andrew?" She gave him a careless hand to kiss, but smiled sweetly
up at her husband. "My headache is so much better," she told him, "and
they said that Andrew was come to see you. So I came downstairs." She
turned eagerly to her brother. "Tell me, Andrew, is Tracy at home?"
"Lord, yes! He arrived yesterday, devil take him! Do you want him?"
"Oh, yes," she nodded. "I want to see him again. I've not set eyes on
him for an age. I want you to take me back with you."
"Surely, my dear, 'tis a trifle late in the day for such a drive?"
demurred Richard, trying to conceal his annoyance. "Can you not wait
until to-morrow?"
"Faith, you'll have to, Lavvy, for I'll not take you to-day, that's
certain. I'm riding to Fletcher's when I leave here. Tracy can visit you
to-morrow an he chooses."
"Will he?" she asked doubtfully.
Andrew clapped his hand to his vest pocket. "If I had not forgot!" he
exclaimed. "I've a letter from him for you. He intends waiting on you
to-morrow, in any case. Lord, what it is to have a scatter brain like
mine!" He pulled a handful of papers from his pocket and selected one,
sealed, and addressed in a sloping Italian handwriting.
Lavinia pounced upon it joyfully, and tore it open. Andrew restored the
rest of the documents to his pocket with yet another rueful laugh.
"Duns, Richard! Duns!"
"Give them to me," answered the other, holding out his hand.
"Oh, no! But many thanks, Dick. These are quite unimportant."
"Why not pay them all, and start afresh?" urged Carstares.
"Lord, no! Why, I should be so damned elated that before the day was out
there'd be a score of fresh debts staring me in the face!"
"Let me lend you a thousand to begin on? Could you not keep out of
debt?"
"I keep out of debt? Impossible! Don't look so solemn, Dick; I told you
'twas in the blood. We never have a penny to bless ourselves with, but
what's the odds? I shall have a run of luck soon--a man can't always
lose. Then I shall be able to repay you, but, of course, I shan't.
It'll all go at the next table. _I_ know!" He spoke so ingenuously that
Richard could not be angry with him. There was a certain frankness about
him that pleased, and though he might be spendthrift and heedless, and
colossally selfish, Richard felt a genuine affection for him. He would
have liked to argue the point further, but Lavinia came forward,
refolding her letter.
"Tracy is coming to-morrow afternoon," she told her husband. "'Twill be
prodigiously agreeable, will it not?"
He assented, but with a lack of warmth that did not fail to strike her
ears.
"And he will stay to dine with us!" she cried challengingly.
"Certainly, my love."
"Look pleased, Dicky, look pleased! Why don't you like Tracy? He is my
own brother; you _must_ like him!"
"Of course I like him, Lavinia. Pray, do not be foolish."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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