“Is Miss Penge in love with him?” asked Sir George in a tone of voice that was intended to be provoking.  His wife looked at him, asking him plainly by her countenance whether he was such a fool as that?  Was it likely that any untitled young lady of eight-and-twenty should be wanting in the capacity of being in love with a young lord, handsome and possessed of forty thousand a year without encumbrances?  Sir George, though he did not approve, was not eager enough in his disapproval to lay any serious embargo on his wife’s proceedings.

The first steps taken were in the direction of the hero’s personal comfort.  He was flattered and petted, as his sister knew how to flatter and pet him; and Miss Penge in a quiet way assisted Lady Penwether in the operation.  For a day or two he had not much to say for himself; but every word he did say was an oracle.  His horses were spoken of as demigods, and his projected fishing operations for June and July became matters of most intense interest.  Evil things were said of Arabella Trefoil, but in all the evil things said no hint was given that Lord Rufford had behaved badly or had been in danger.  Lady Penwether, not quite knowing the state of his mind, thought that there might still be some lurking affection for the young lady.  “Did you ever see anybody look so vulgar and hideous as she did when she marched across the park?” asked Lady Penwether.

“Thank goodness I did not see her,” said Miss Penge.

“I never saw her look so handsome as when she came up to me,” said Lord Rufford.

“But such a thing to do!”

“Awful!” said Miss Penge.

“She is the pluckiest girl I ever came across in my life,” said Lord Rufford.  He knew very well what they were at, and was already almost inclined to think that they might as well be allowed to have their way.  Miss Penge was ladylike, quiet, and good, and was like a cool salad in a man’s mouth after spiced meat.  And the money would enable him to buy the Purefoy property which would probably be soon in the market.  But he felt that he might as well give them a little trouble before he allowed himself to be hooked.  It certainly was not by any arrangement of his own that he found himself walking alone with Miss Penge that Sunday afternoon in the park; nor did it seem to be by hers.  He thought of that other Sunday at Mistletoe, when he had been compelled to wander with Arabella, when he met the Duchess, and when, as he often told himself, a little more good-nature or a little more courage on her grace’s part would have completed the work entirely.  Certainly had the Duke come to him that night, after the journey from Stamford, he would have capitulated.  As he walked along and allowed himself to be talked to by Miss Penge, he did tell himself that she would be the better angel of the two.  She could not hunt with him, as Arabella would have done; but then a man does not want his wife to gallop across the country after him.