The party stopped, Lady Sefton begged leave to present Mrs. Scattergood and Miss Taverner, and Judith found herself making her first curtsy to Royalty.

The Duke, who had the same thick utterance that belonged to all the King’s sons, said in his blunt, disconnected way: “What’s that? What’s that? Is it Miss Taverner? Well, this is famous indeed! I have been wishing to meet Miss Taverner these three weeks. How do you do? So you drive a phaeton and pair, as I hear, ma’am? Well, that is the right tack for Worth’s ward!”

Miss Taverner said simply: “Yes, sir, I do drive a phaeton and pair.”

“Ay, ay, they tell me you shake the wind out of all their sails. I shall keep a weather eye lifted for you in the Park, ma’am. I am acquainted with Worth, you know: he is a particular friend of my brother York. You need not fear to haul to and take me aboard your phaeton.”

“I shall be honored, sir,” replied Miss Taverner, wondering at his bluff geniality. She could not imagine why he should want to be taken aboard her phaeton, as he phrased it, but if he did she bad not the least objection. He seemed a good-humoured easy-going Prince, not at all awe-inspiring; and (though rather elderly and stout) quite likeable in his odd way.

The Duke of Cambridge, who, unlike his brother, was extremely tall, with a fair handsome countenance, came towards the group at this moment, and the Duke of Clarence said with his boisterous laugh: “Ah, you see, I am overhauled; I must be off. Did you ever know such a fellow as my brother, to be talking out loud in church? But he don’t mean it, you know; you must not be shocked, my lady. I shall look for you in the Park, Miss Taverner; don’t forget I shall be looking out for you!”

Judith curtsied and moved away with Mrs. Scattergood, and beyond describing her encounter with a good deal of humour to Peregrine that evening, thought no more about it. But sure enough the Royal Tar did look out for her. She did not visit Hyde Park the next day, but on Tuesday she was there with her groom beside her, and had not gone very far when she saw the Duke waving to her from the promenade. He was walking with another gentleman, but when Miss Taverner drew up in obedience to his signal, he left his companion abruptly and came to the phaeton, and wanted to know whether she would take him up.

“I shall be honoured, sir,” she said formally, and signed to the groom to get down.

The Duke climbed up beside her, saying: “Oh, that’s nonsense—never stand on ceremony. Look, there goes my cousin Gloucester. I daresay he envies me perched up here beside you. What do you say?”

Miss Taverner laughed. “Nothing, sir, how can I? If I agree, I must be odiously conceited, which I hope I am not; and if I demur you will think me to be asking for reassurance.”

He seemed to be much struck by the frankness of this reply, laughed very heartily, and declared they should get along famously together.

He was not at all difficult to talk to, and they had not driven more than half-way round the Park before Miss Taverner discovered him to have been a firm friend of Admiral Nelson. She was in a glow at once; he was very ready to talk to her of the admiral, and in this way they drove twice round the Park, extremely well pleased with each other. When Miss Taverner set him down, he parted from her with a vigorous handshake and a promise that he should bring to in Brook Street at no very distant date.

Chapter VII

The Taverners were both at Vauxhall that evening with a party, to partake of ham-shavings and burnt wine in a box, and after to see Mr. Blackmore performing feats on a slack-rope, followed by the usual display of fireworks. It was not until the small hours that they were set down at their own door again, and they were both extremely sleepy, Peregrine rather more so than his sister, since he had drunk, in addition to burnt wine, any quantity of rack-punch. He went straight off to bed, yawning prodigiously, but Miss Taverner was not too tired to look over a little pile of notes awaiting her on the marble-top table in the hall. They had most of them the appearance of invitations, and since she had not been in town long enough to think invitations dull, she gathered them all up to take with her to her bedchamber.

While her maid was brushing her hair she ran through them. Midway through the pile she came upon Mr. Blackader’s fist, and at once pushed the rest aside and broke the seal. It was a brief note informing her that the Earl of Worth would call at Brook Street the following morning.

Miss Taverner, who considered that the commonest civility should have prompted his lordship to inquire when it would suit her to receive him, immediately made a plan to spend the whole morning at the Botanic Gardens in Hans Town.

This plan was ruthlessly carried out, in spite of the protests of Mrs. Scattergood, who had no extraordinary interest in gardens. A message for Lord Worth was left with the butler, intimating that Miss Taverner was sorry that she had not received his obliging note earlier, since she was engaged elsewhere that morning.

The message was never delivered. Miss Taverner returned from the Botanic Gardens to find that the Earl had not called at all, but had sent round a footman with a note instead.

Miss Taverner, thinking indignantly of a whole morning wasted amongst plants, broke the seal and spread open the letter. It was the ubiquitous Mr. Blackader again, regretting that his lordship was unfortunately prevented from fulfilling his promise, but trusted to be able to visit Miss Taverner within the course of the next few days.

Miss Taverner tore the letter into shreds, and swept upstairs in a mood of considerable exasperation.

She dined at home with only Mrs. Scattergood for company, but in the expectation of receiving her cousin later in the evening. He had promised to bring her a volume from his library which he believed she would like to read, and would call at Brook Street on his way home from Limmer’s hotel, where he was engaged to dine with a party of friends.

At ten o’clock, as the butler was bringing in the tea-table, a knock was heard. Mrs. Scattergood was just wondering who could be calling on them so late, and Miss Taverner had gladly put away her embroidery frame, when not her cousin, but the Earl of Worth was announced.

“Oh, is it you, Julian?” said Mrs. Scattergood. “Well, to be sure, this is very pleasant. You are just come in time to drink tea with us, for we are alone this evening, as you see, which has become a very strange thing with us, I can tell you.”

Miss Taverner, having bowed slightly to her guardian, picked up her embroidery again, and became busy with it.

Mrs. Scattergood began to make tea. “I thought you was out of town, my dear Worth. This is quite a surprise.”

“I have been at Woburn,” he replied, taking the cup and saucer she held out to him, and carrying it to Miss Taverner. “I am fortunate to find you at home.”

Miss Taverner accepted the cup and saucer with a brief word of thanks, and setting it down on the sofa-table at her elbow, continued to ply her needle.

“Yes, indeed you are,” agreed Mrs. Scattergood. “We have been about for ever this last week. You can have no notion! Balls, assemblies, card-parties, and actually. Worth, an invitation to Lady Cork’s! I tell Judith nothing could be better, for all she may think it tedious! No cards, my love—nothing of that sort, but the company of the most select, and the conversation all wit and elegance. I am sure we have to thank that dear, delightful Emily Cowper for it!”

“On the contrary, you have to thank me for it,” said the Earl, sipping his tea.

“My dear Worth, is it really so? Well, and why should I not have guessed it? To think I should forget the terms your poor Mama was upon with Lady Cork! Of course I might have known it was all your doing. It is very prettily done of you; I am excessively pleased with you for thinking of it. Is that why you are here? Did you come to tell us?”

“Not at all,” said the Earl. “I came at the request of Miss Taverner.”

Mrs. Scattergood turned a surprised, inquiring look upon Judith. “You never told me you had invited Worth, my dear?”

“I did request Lord Worth to call here,” said Miss Taverner, carefully choosing another length of embroidery silk. “I did not, however, mention any particular day or hour.”

“True,” said the Earl. “I had had the intention of calling on you this morning, Miss Taverner, but—er—circumstances intervened.”

“It was fortunate, sir. I was not at home this morning.” She raised her eyes momentarily from her work to find that he was regarding her with a look of so much sarcastic amusement that the unwelcome suspicion crossed her mind that he must have seen her drive out, and changed his own plans immediately.

“This morning!” ejaculated Mrs. Scattergood, with a strong shudder. “Pray do not be talking of it! Three hours—I am persuaded it was no less—at the Botanic Gardens, and I not having the least notion that you cared a rap for all those odiously rare plants!”

“The Botanic Gardens,” murmured the Earl. “Poor Miss Taverner!”

She was now sure that he must somewhere have seen her. She got up. “If you have finished your tea, sir, perhaps you would do me the kindness of coming into the other drawing-room. You will excuse us, ma’am, I know. I have something of a private nature to say to Lord Worth.”

“By all means, my love, though I can’t conceive what it should be,” said Mrs. Scattergood.

Miss Taverner did not enlighten her. She went out through the door his lordship was holding open for her into the back drawing-room, and took up a stand by the table in the middle of the room. The Earl shut the door, and surveyed her with his air of rather bored amusement. “Well, Miss Taverner?” he said.