“Good God!” exclaimed the Viscount. “You don’t mean it! Who’s the suitor?”

“I shouldn’t think you know him, for he has only lately come into Hertfordshire, and I fancy he very rarely goes to London. He is old Mr Bourne’s cousin, and inherited Marley House from him. According to Lady Draycott, he is an excellent person, of the first respectability, a thousand agreeable talents, and most distinguished manners. I haven’t met him myself, but I do hope something may come of it, for I have the greatest regard for Henrietta, and have always wished to see her comfortably established. And, if Lady Draycott is to be believed, this Mr—Mr Nethersole—no, not Nethersole, but some name like that—seems to be just the man for her.”

“He sounds to me like a dashed dull dog!” said the Viscount.

“Yes, but persons of uniform virtues always do sound dull, Ashley. It seems to me such an odd circumstance! However, we must remember that Lady Draycott is not wholly to be relied on, and I daresay she has exaggerated. She thinks everyone she likes a pattern-saint, and everyone she doesn’t like a rascal.” Her eyes twinkled. “Well, she says you are a man of character, and very well conducted!”

“Much obliged to her!” said the Viscount. “To think she should judge me so well!”

She laughed. “Yes, indeed! It is a striking example of the advantage of having engaging manners. What a sad reflection it is that to have powers of captivation should be of much more practical use than worthiness!” She leaned forward to pinch his chin, her eyes full of loving mockery. “You can’t bamboozle me, you rogue! You are a here-and-thereian, you know, exactly as I am persuaded Papa told you! I wish you might form a tendre for some very nice girl, and settle down with her! Never mind! I don’t mean to tease you!”