Martin instantly left the group and went over towards the window so that he could look her in the eye. "Yes, Lady Brayle?"
"With regard to your proposed marriage with my granddaughter."
"Yes."
They looked at each other for a full minute, which can be a very long space if you time it The reason was that Lady Brayle could not speak. She was shaken; emotion tore her, but the lips would not move. Her large, rather flabby hands were folded in front of her. Her shoulders were back. Her eyes wandered in search of determination. Then came firm resolve, and clearly she spoke.
"The Gloucesters, I am informed, are a very honourable regiment." There was a short silence.
"Very," agreed Martin. He reflected for a moment. "But in my opinion the Brigade of Guards, particularly the Grenadier Guards, must always rank highest of all."
Then, startlingly, tears came into the woman's eyes.
"Thank you, Captain Drake."
"Not at all, Lady Brayle."
They did not even shake hands. They understood.