Free Maggie MacKeever by Bachelors Fare Page B

Davenham household, from all appearances, the established order might well have been overthrown. He hastened to catch up with his friend, who during his reflections had strolled away down a garden path.
    “Vivien!” he wheezed, and clutched at the Duke’s arm. “People also recall that old rumor that Lady Davenham would have rather married Calveley instead of you—it was more than a rumor; wagers were laid on it in the clubs! I know that for fact, because I put my own name in White’s betting book.” Recalled by his friend’s quizzical glance to the callousness of this observation, the squire turned ruddier yet. “I wagered that she’d have you, of course! The point is that people remember that sort of gossip, and now Calveley no sooner returns than he begins to pay Lady Davenham attentions that are a little pointed. I’m not saying there’s anything to it, mind, but it looks bad!”
    “Looks bad?” Lord Davenham reached out and ruffled the squire’s whiskers, apparently under the impression that the wheezing noises issued from his arthritic hound. “Nonsense, James.”
    Ignorance was bliss, reflected the squire; it was a philosophy to which Lord Davenham obviously ascribed. “Have you not the least concern for the prospect?” James wearily inquired.
    The prospect which most interested Lord Davenham was that of escaping the concerned queries of his old friend. Vivien gazed about him, with the guilty air of one whose attention had strayed. “The prospect? It is very pleasant— so pleasant that had I been aware of it, I might have considered becoming a barrister at law—had my position allowed such a thing, that is. It is very peaceful here, as befits a place where the rights of sanctuary are still observed—and I confess to an ignoble pleasure in the thought that even the Lord Mayor must leave his robes outside when he ventures into this community.” He dug the ferrule of his umbrella into the soil of a flowerbed. “Beg pardon, James! Did you speak?”
    The squire had indeed spoken, and those muttered words had been no praise of Lord Davenham’s evasiveness. “I appreciate the delicacy of your position, Vivien. Calveley is your heir. You can hardly take your wife to task for associating with him.”
    “I cannot?” His lordship rotated the ferrule of his umbrella to and fro. “I do not wish to argue with you, James, but it seems to me that I may take my wife to task for anything I please.”
    At least a step in the proper direction had been achieved. The squire rendered devout thanksgiving. “Then you will wish to intimate to Lady Davenham that you cannot approve her association with a profligate,” he suggested delicately.
    “On the contrary, James; I wish to do no such thing.” Lord Davenham was inspired by the results of his umbrella’s application to drop down on one knee. “Thea wouldn’t like it.”
    “Really, Vivien!” The squire was aggravated almost beyond belief. “It is not for me to tell you how to deal with your family, but I warn you that if you do not make some effort to remedy this situation, it will grow abominably out of hand. Or perhaps you do not careif your family is made an object of notoriety.”
    “Not at all,” responded his lordship, who was now digging with his quizzing-glass, and every evidence of pleasure, in the flowerbed. “I don’t pay much attention to such things, you know. If Thea doesn’t mind being talked about, why should I? At any event, the Davenants always are.”
    Faced with such obduracy, the squire retracted his prematurely offered thanks. “I will say no more. ‘Tis you who must bear the consequences of your folly. I only hope those consequences may not be such as force even you to come down out of the clouds!”
    This admission of defeat attracted Lord Davenham’s attention as prophecies of disaster had not. “You are very good to concern yourself with me, James,” he said gently. “But you need not. Thea has taken Malcolm in hand