At this, Lady Ombersley sat up with a jerk. “Do not tell me you dragged the child to Brussels last year!”

“Of course she was in Brussels! Where the devil should she have been?” replied Sir Horace testily. “You wouldn’t have had me leave her in Vienna, would you? Besides, she enjoyed it. We met a great many old friends there.”

“The danger!”

“Oh, pooh! Nonsense! Precious little of that with Wellington in command!”

“When, sir, may we have the pleasure of expecting my cousin?” interposed Mr. Rivenhall. “We must hope that she will not find life in London too humdrum after the superior excitements of the Continent.”

“Not she!” said Sir Horace. “I never knew Sophy when she wasn’t busy with some ploy or another. Give her her head! I always do, and she never comes to any harm. Don’t quite know when she’ll be with you. She’s bound to want to see the last of me, but she’ll post up to London as soon as I’ve sailed.”

“Post up to London as soon as — Horace, surely you will bring her to me!” gasped his sister, quite scandalized. “A girl of her age, traveling alone! I never heard of such a thing!”

“Won’t be alone. She’ll have her maid with her — dragon of a woman, she is; journeyed all over Europe with us — and John Potton as well.” He caught sight of his nephew’s raised brows, and felt himself impelled to add: “Groom, courier, general factotum! Looked after Sophy since she was a baby.” He drew out his watch, and consulted it. “Well, now that we’ve settled everything, I must be off, Lizzie. I shall rely upon you to take care of Sophy, and look about you for a match. It’s important, because — but I’ve no time to explain that now! She’ll tell you all about it, I expect.”

“But, Horace, we have not settled everything!” protested his sister. “And Ombersley will be disappointed not to see you! hoped you would dine with us!”