“Now stap me, that’s not fair!” cried Rupert, heaving himself up. “Scamp, did you say? What about the High Toby, my boy, eh?”

Merivale flung up his hand.

“Touché! For the love of heaven, Rupert, don’t spread that tale about town!”

Rupert smoothed his ruffled hair, and managed to assume an expression of vast superiority.

“Oh, I’m not such a fool as you think, Tony, I assure you!”

“Well, thank God for that!” answered Merivale.

CHAPTER XV

Lord Rupert Makes the Acquaintance of Léonie

Rupert rode over to the Court the very next day and heralded his arrival by a prolonged peal on the door bell, accompanied by several resounding knocks. Léonie was seated by the fire in the hall, and the commotion startled her a little. When the butler came to admit the visitor she rose, and peeped round the corner of the screen to see who it was. A gay, boisterous voice met her ears.

“Hey, Johnson! Not dead yet? Where’s my cousin?”

“Oh, it’s you, my lord?” said the old man. “’Tis no one else would make such a thundering on the door, to be sure. Madam’s within.”

Rupert strode past him into the hall. At sight of Léonie regarding him in some trepidity from the fireplace he swept off his hat and bowed.

“Your pardon, mamzelle. Thunder an’ turf, what’s come over the place?” He cast an astonished glance about him. “It’s been like a tomb for centuries, and now——!”

“It’s my Lord Rupert, madam,” explained Johnson, apologetically. He frowned severely at his young master. “Ye can’t stay here, my lord. This is his Grace’s ward. Mistress Léonie de Bonnard.”

“I’m at Merivale, old sobersides,” said the graceless Rupert. “If you say I’m to go, mamzelle, I will.”

Léonie’s nose wrinkled in perplexity.

“Rupert? Oh, you are the brother of Monseigneur!”

“Mon——? Oh, ay, ay! That’s it!”

Léonie skipped forward.

“I am very pleased to see you,” she said politely. “Now I curtsy and you kiss my hand, n’est-ce pas?”

Rupert stared.

“Ay, but——”

“Eh bien!” Léonie sank, and rose, and held out her small hand. Rupert kissed it punctiliously.

“I never before was told by a lady to kiss her hand,” he remarked.

“I should not have said it?” she asked anxiously. “Voyons, these things are very difficult to learn! Where is Monseigneur, please?”

“Lord, I don’t know, my dear! Ours is no united household, I give you my word!”

Léonie looked at him gravely.

“You are the young Rupert. I know. I have heard tell of you.”

“Not a might of good, I’ll be bound. I’m the scapegrace of the family.”

“Oh no! I have heard people speak of you in Paris, and I think they like you very much.”

“Do they, by Gad? Do you come from Paris, my dear?”

She nodded.

“I was Monseigneur’s pa——” She clasped her hands over her mouth, and her eyes danced.

Rupert was greatly intrigued. He cast a shrewd glance at her short curls.

“Pa——?”

“I must not say. Please do not ask me!”

“You were never his page?”

Léonie stared down at her toes.

“Here’s a romance!” said Rupert, delighted. “His page, by all that’s marvellous!”

“You must not tell!” she said earnestly. “Promise!”

“Mum as a corpse, my dear!” he answered promptly. “I never thought to stumble on such a fairy tale! What are you doing cooped up here?”

“I am learning to be a lady, milor’.”

“Milor’ be damned, saving your presence! My name’s Rupert.”

“Is it convenable for me to call you that?” she inquired. “I do not know these things, you see.”

“Convenable, my dear? I pledge you my word it is! Are you not my brother’s ward?”

“Y-es.”

“Eh bien, then, as you’d say yourself! Fiend seize it, here’s my cousin!”

Madam Field came down the stairs, peering out of her short-sighted eyes.

“Well, to be sure! And is it indeed you, Rupert?” she exclaimed.

Rupert went forward to meet her.

“Ay, cousin, it’s myself. I hope I see you in your customary good health?”

“Save for a trifling touch of the gout. Léonie! You here?”

“I presented myself, cousin. I believe I am something in the nature of an uncle to her.”

“An uncle? Oh no, Rupert, surely not!”

“I will not have you for an uncle,” said Léonie with her nose in the air. “You are not enough respectable.”

“My love!”

Rupert burst out laughing.

“Faith, I’ll none of you for a niece, child. You are too saucy.”

“Oh no, Rupert!” Madam assured him. “Indeed, she is very good!” She looked at him doubtfully. “But, Rupert, do you think you should be here?”

“Turning me from mine own roof, cousin?”

“I protest, I did not mean——”

“I am come to make the acquaintance of my brother’s ward, cousin, as is fitting.” His voice was convincing. Madam’s brow cleared.

“If you say so, Rupert—Pray where are you staying?”

“At Merivale, cousin, by night, but here, an it please you, by day.”

“Does—does Justin know?” ventured Madam.

“Do you suggest that Alastair would object to my presence, cousin?” demanded Rupert in righteous indignation.

“Oh no, indeed! You misunderstood me! I make no doubt ’tis monstrous dull for Léonie to have only me to bear her company. Perhaps you will sometimes ride out with her? The child will leave her groom at home, which is vastly improper, as I have told her many times.”

“I’ll ride with her all day!” promised Rupert jovially. “That is if she will have me.”

“I should like it, I think,” said Léonie. “I have never met anyone tout comme vous.”

“If it comes to that,” said Rupert, “I’ve never met a girl like you.”

Madam Field sighed, and shook her head.

“I fear she will never become quite as I should wish,” she said sadly.

“She’ll be the rage of town,” Rupert prophesied. “Will you walk with me to the stables, Léonie?”

“I will get a cloak,” she nodded, and ran lightly upstairs.

When she returned Madam Field had delivered a short lecture to Rupert, and had extracted a promise from him that he would behave with suitable decorum towards Léonie.

As soon as they had left the house, Léonie, dancing along beside Rupert with little excited steps, looked up at him with her confiding smile.

“I have thought of a plan,” she announced. “Suddenly it came to me! Will you please fight me with a sword?”

“Will I do what?” ejaculated Rupert, stopping short.

She stamped an impatient foot.

“Fight with swords! Fence!”

“Thunder an’ turf, what next? Ay, I’ll fence with you, rogue.”

“Thank you very much! You see, Monseigneur began to teach me, but then he went away, and Madam Field does not fence at all. I asked her.”

“You should ask Anthony Merivale to teach you, my dear. Justin’s good, I’ll admit, but Anthony nearly worsted him once.”

“Aha! I knew there was a mystery! Tell me, did Monseigneur intrigue himself with miladi Jennifer?”

“Ran off with her in Anthony’s teeth, my dear!”

“Vraiment? She would not like that, I think.”

“Lord no! But what woman would?”

“I should not mind,” said Léonie calmly. “But Lady Merivale—ah, that is another thing! Was she married then?”

“Devil a bit. Justin’s not often in an affair with a married woman. He wanted to marry her.”

“It would not have done,” she said wisely. “She would have wearied him. Milor’ then came to the rescue?”

“Ay, and tried to fight Justin ŕ outrance. Marling stopped it. Never was there such a scene! They don’t speak now, y’know. Damned awkward, seeing that we’ve known Merivale since we were children. Marling don’t love Justin overmuch either.”

“Oh!” Léonie was scornful. “He is a kind man, that one, but of a dullness!”

“Ay, but ’tis enough to make a man sober to be wedded to Fanny, I can tell you.”

“I think your family is very strange,” she remarked. “Everyone in it hates everyone else. Oh no, Lady Fanny sometimes loves Monseigneur!”

“Well, you see, we’d a spitfire for mother,” Rupert explained. “And the old Duke was no saint, the Lord knows! ’Tis no wonder we grew up like snarling dogs.”

They had arrived at the stables, where Rupert’s horse had been taken. He spoke to one of the grooms, hailing him good-naturedly, and went to inspect the few horses that were there. By the time they returned to the house he and Léonie might have known one another for years. Rupert was delighted with his brother’s ward, and had already decided to remain some time at Merivale. A girl who was as outspoken as a boy, and who evidently did not expect him to make love to her, was something quite new to Rupert. A month ago he had danced attendance on Mistress Julia Falkner; he was weary of the pastime, and had determined to eschew feminine company. But Léonie, with her friendliness and her quaint ways, would be a pleasant amusement, he thought. She was very young, too, and his loves had hitherto been older than himself. He promised himself a few weeks’ gaiety unspoiled by any fear that he would be entrapped into marriage.

He came again next day, and was informed by the lackey who admitted him that Léonie awaited him in the picture gallery. Thither went he, and found her wandering round in coat and breeches, inspecting his ancestors.

“By Gad!” he exclaimed. “You—you rogue!”

She turned quickly, and laid a finger on her lips.

“Where is madame?”