With quick, decisive movements Patricia folded the note, addressed the envelope and handed it to the maid, then she turned to Mr. Bonsor.
"I am sorry to interrupt work, Mr. Bonsor; but that was rather an important note that I had to answer."
Mr. Bonsor smiled sympathetically.
At lunch-time Patricia purchased a copy of _The Morning Post_, and there saw in all its unblushing mendacity the announcement.
"A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Lord Peter Bowen, D.S.O., M.C., attached to the General Staff, son of the 7th Marquess of Meyfield, and Patricia Brent, daughter of the late John Brent, of Little Milstead."
"Why on earth must the ridiculous people put it at the top of the column?" she muttered aloud. A man occupying an adjoining table at the place where she was lunching turned and looked at her.
"And now I must go back to potatoes, pigs, and babies," said Patricia to herself as she paid her bill and rose. "Ugh!"
She had scarcely settled down to her afternoon"s work when the maid entered and announced, "Lord Peter Bowen to see you, miss."
"Oh bother!" exclaimed Patricia. "Tell him I"m busy, will you please?"
The maid"s jaw dropped; she was excellently trained, but no maid-servant could be expected to rise superior to such an extraordinary att.i.tude on the part of a newly-engaged girl. Nothing short of a butler who had lived in the best families could have risen to such an occasion.
"But, Miss Brent----" began Mr. Bonsor.
Patricia turned and froze him with a look.
"Will you give him my message, please, Fellers?" she said, and Fellers walked out a disillusioned young woman.
Two minutes later Mrs. Bonsor entered the room, flushed and excited.
"Oh, Miss Brent, that silly girl has muddled up things somehow! Lord Peter Bowen is waiting for you in the morning-room. I have just been talking to him and saying that I hope you will both dine with us one day next week."
"The message was quite correct, Mrs. Bonsor. I am very busy with pigs, and babies, and potatoes. I really cannot add Lord Peter to my responsibilities at the moment."
Mrs. Bonsor looked at Patricia as if she had suddenly gone mad.
"But Miss Brent-----" began Mrs. Bonsor, scandalised.
"I suppose I shall have to see him," said Patricia, rising with the air of one who has to perform an unpleasant task. "I wish he"d stay at the War Office and leave me to do my work. I suppose I shall have to write to Lord Derby about it."
Mrs. Bonsor glanced at Mr. Bonsor, who, however, was busily engaged in preparing an appropriate speech upon War Office methods, suggested by Patricia"s remark about Lord Derby.
As Patricia entered the morning-room, Bowen came forward.
"Oh, Patricia! why will you persist in being a cold douche? Why this morning I absolutely scandalised Peel by singing at the top of my voice whilst in my bath, and now. Look at me now!"
Patricia looked at him, then she was forced to laugh. He presented such a woebegone appearance.
"But what on earth have I to do with your singing in your bath?" she enquired.
"It was _The Morning Post_ paragraph. I thought everything was going to be all right after last night, and now I"m a door-mat again."
"Who inserted that paragraph?" enquired Patricia.
"I rang up _The Morning Post_ office and they told me that it was handed in by Miss Brent, who is staying at the Mayfair Hotel."
"Aunt Adelaide!" There was a depth of meaning in Patricia"s tone as she uttered the two words, then turning to Bowen she enquired, "Did you tell them to contradict it?"
"They asked me whether it were correct," he said, refusing to meet Patricia"s eyes.
"What did you say?"
"I said it was." He looked at her quizzically, like a boy who is expecting a severe scolding. Patricia had to bite her lips to prevent herself from laughing.
"You told _The Morning Post_ people that it was correct when you knew that it was wrong?"
Bowen hung his head. "But it isn"t wrong," he muttered.
"You know very well that it is wrong and that I am not engaged to you, and that no marriage has been arranged or ever will be arranged. Now I shall have to write to the editor and insist upon the statement being contradicted."
"Good Lord! Don"t do that, Patricia," broke in Bowen. "They"ll think we"ve all gone mad."
"And for once a newspaper editor will be right," was Patricia"s comment.
"And will you dine to-night, Pat?"
Patricia looked up. This was the first time Bowen had used the diminutive of her name. Somehow it sounded very intimate.
"I am afraid I have an--an----"
The hesitation was her undoing.
"No; don"t tell me fibs, please. You will dine with me and then, afterwards, we will go on and see the mater. She is dying to know you."
How boyish and lover-like Bowen was in spite of his twenty-eight years, and--and--how different everything might have been if---- Patricia was awakened from her thoughts by hearing Bowen say:
"Shall I pick you up here in the car?"
"No, I--I"ve just told you I am engaged," she said.
"And I"ve just told you that I won"t allow you to be engaged to anyone but me," was Bowen"s answer. "If you won"t come and dine with me I"ll come and play my hooter outside Galvin House until they send you out to get rid of me. You know, Patricia, I"m an awful fellow when I"ve set my mind on anything, and I"m simply determined to marry you whether you like it or not."
"Very well, I will dine with you to-night at half-past seven."
"I"ll pick you up at Galvin House at a quarter-past seven with the car."
"Very well," said Patricia wearily. It seemed ridiculous to try and fight against her fate, and at the back of her mind she had a plan of action, which she meant to put into operation.
"Now I must get back to my work. Good-bye."