“Pray, John, do not be so provoking!” implored Lady Fanny, somewhat tartly. “You make it sound as though I were one of those odious scheming females whom I detest.”

Hugh thought it time to withdraw, and tactfully did so, leaving mother and son to argue in comfort.

Meanwhile, Miss Juliana Marling, a charming blonde dressed in blue lustring with spangled shoes, and her curls arranged a la Gorgonne, had dragged her cousin into one of the adjoining saloons. “You are the very person I wished to see!” she informed him.

The Marquis said with conspicuous lack of gallantry: “If you want me to do something for you, Juliana, I warn you I never do anything for anybody.”

Miss Marling opened her blue eyes very wide. “Not even for me, Dominic?” she said soulfully.

His lordship remained unmoved. “No,” he replied.

Miss Marling sighed and shook her head. “You are horridly disobliging, you know. It quite decides me not to marry you.”

“I hoped it might,” said his lordship calmly.

Miss Marling made an effort to look affronted, but only succeeded in giggling. “You needn’t be afraid. I am going to marry someone quite different,” she said.

His lordship evinced signs of faint interest at that. “Are you?” he inquired. “Does my aunt know?”

“You may be very wicked, and quite hatefully rude,” said Miss Marling, “but I will say one thing for you, Dominic: you do not need to have things explained to you like John. Mamma does not mean me to marry him, and that is why I am to be packed off to France next week.”

“Who is ‘he?’ Ought I to know?” inquired the Marquis.

“I don’t suppose you know him. He is not at all the sort of person who would know your set,” said Miss Marling severely.

“Ah, then I was right,” retorted my lord. “You are contemplating a mésalliance.”

Miss Marling stiffened in every line of her small figure. “It’s no such thing! He may not be a brilliant match, or have a title, but all the men I have met who are brilliant matches are just like you, and would make the most horrid husbands.”

“You may as well let me know the worst,” said my lord. “If you think it would annoy Aunt Fanny, I’ll do what I can for you.”

She clasped both hands on his arm. “Dear, dear Dominic! I knew you would! It is Frederick Comyn.”

“And who,” said the Marquis, “might he be?”

“He comes from Gloucestershire — or is it Somerset? Well, it doesn’t signify — and his papa is SirMalcolm Comyn, and it is all perfectly respectable, as dear Aunt Léonie would say, for they have always lived there, and there is an estate, though not very large, I believe, and Frederick is the eldest son, and he was at Cambridge, and this is his first stay in town, and Lord Carlisle is his sponsor, so you see it is not a mésalliance at all.”

“I don’t,” said his lordship. “You may as well give up the notion, my dear. They’ll never let you throw yourself away on this nobody.”

“Dominic,” said Miss Marling with dangerous quiet.

My lord looked lazily down at her.

“I just want you to know that my mind is made up,” she said, giving him back look for look. “So that it is no use to talk to me like that.”

“Very well,” said my lord.

“And you will make a push to help us, won’t you, dearest Dominic?”

“Oh certainly, child. I will tell Aunt Fanny that the alliance has my full approval.”

“You are quite abominable,” said his cousin. “I know you dislike of all things to bestir yourself, but recollect, my lord, if once I am wed you need not be afraid any more that mamma will make you marry me.”

“I am not in the least afraid of that,” replied his lordship.

“I declare it would serve you right if I did marry you!” cried Miss Marling indignantly. “You are being quite atrocious and all I want you to do is to write a letter to Tante Elisabeth in Paris!”

His lordship’s attention seemed to have wandered, but at this he brought his gaze back from the contemplation of a ripe blonde who was trying to appear unconscious of his scrutiny, and looked down into Miss Marling’s face.

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s perfectly plain, Dominic, I should have thought. Tante Elisabeth so dotes on you she will do whatever you wish, and if you were to solicit her kindness for a friend of yours about to make his debut in Paris — ”

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said the Marquis. “Much good will a letter from me avail you if my respected Aunt Fanny has already warned Tante against your nobody.”

“She won’t do that,” Miss Marling replied confidently. “And he is not a nobody. She has no notion, you see, that Frederick means to follow me to Paris. So you will write, will you not, Dominic?”

“No, certainly not,” said my lord. “I’ve never set eyes on the fellow.”

“I knew you would say something disagreeable like that,” said Miss Marling, unperturbed. “So I told Frederick to be ready.” She turned her head and made a gesture with her fan, rather in the manner of a sorceress about to conjure up visions. In response to the signal a young man who had been watching her anxiously disengaged himself from a knot of persons near the door, and came towards her.

He was not so tall as Vidal, and of a very different ton. From his moderate-sized pigeon’s-wing wig to his low-heeled black shoes, there did not seem to be a hair or a pin out of place. His dress was in the mode, but not designed to attract attention. He wore Lunardi lace at his throat and wrists, and a black solitaire adorned his cravat. Such usual adjuncts to a gentleman’s costume as quizzing-glass, fobs, and watches, he had altogether dispensed with, but he had a snuff-box in one hand, and wore a cameo-ring on one finger.

The Marquis watched his approach through his quizzing-glass. “Lord!” he said. “What’s the matter with you, Ju?”

Miss Marling chose to ignore this. She sprang up as Mr. Comyn reached them, and laid her hand on his arm. “Frederick, I have told my cousin all!” she said dramatically. “This is my cousin, by the way. I dare say you know of him. He is very wicked and kills people in duels. Vidal, this is Frederick.”

His lordship had risen. “You talk too much, Juliana,” he drawled. His dark eyes held a distinct menace, but his cousin remained unabashed. He exchanged bows with Mr. Comyn. “Sir, your most obedient.”

Mr. Comyn, who had blushed at his Juliana’s introduction, said that he was honoured.

“Vidal is going to write to my French aunt about you,” stated Miss Marling blithely. “She is really the only person in the family who is not shocked by him. Except me, of course.”

The Marquis caught her eye once more. Knowing that dangerous look of old, Miss Marling capitulated. “I won’t say another word,” she promised. “And you will write, will you not, dear Dominic?”

Mr. Comyn said in his grave young voice: “I think my Lord Vidal must require to know my credentials. My lord, though I am aware that I must sound like a mere adventurer, I can assure you it is no such thing. My family is well known in the West of England, and my Lord Carlisle will speak for me at need.”

“Good God, sir! I’m not the girl’s guardian!” said his lordship. “You had better address all this to her brother.”

Mr. Comyn and Miss Marling exchanged rueful glances.

“Mr. Marling and Lady Fanny can hardly be unaware of my estate, sir, but — but in short I cannot flatter myself that they look upon my suit with any favour.”

“Of course they don’t,” agreed the Marquis. “You’ll have to elope with her.”

Mr. Comyn looked extremely taken aback. “Elope, my lord!” he said.

“Or give the chit up,” replied his lordship.

“My lord,” said Mr. Comyn earnestly, “I ask you to believe that in journeying to Paris, I have no such impropriety in mind. It was always my father’s intention that I should visit France. Miss Marling’s going there but puts my own journey forward.”

“Yes,” said Juliana thoughtfully, “but for all that I’m not sure it wouldn’t be a very good thing to do, Frederick. I must say, Vidal, you do take some prodigious clever notions into your head! I wonder I did not think of it myself.”

Mr. Comyn regarded her with a hint of sternness in his frank gaze, “Juliana — madam! You could not suppose that I would steal you away clandestinely? His lordship was jesting.”

“Oh no, indeed he wasn’t. It is just the kind of thing he would do himself. It is no good being proper and respectable, Frederick; we may be forced to elope in the end. Unless — ” She paused, and looked doubtfully up at Vidal. “You don’t suppose, do you, Dominic, that my Uncle Justin could be induced to speak for us to mamma?”

My lord answered this without hesitation. “Don’t be a fool, Ju.”

She sighed. “No, I was afraid he would not. It is a vast pity, for mamma always does what Uncle Justin says.” She caught sight of a stocky figure at the far end of the room. “There’s John! You had best go away, Frederick, for it will not do at all for John to see you talking to my cousin.”

She watched him bow, and retreat, and turned enthusiastically to the Marquis. “Is he not a delightful creature, Vidal?” she demanded.

My lord looked at her frowningly. “Juliana,” he said, “do I understand that you prefer him as a husband to myself?”

“Infinitely,” Miss Marling assured him.

“You have very bad taste, my girl,” said my lord calmly.

“Indeed, cousin! And may I ask whether you prefer that yellow-haired chit I saw you with at Vauxhall as a wife to me?” retorted Juliana.

“Ill-judged, my dear. I do not contemplate marriage either with her or you. Nor am I at all certain which yellow-haired chit you mean.”