"Very improbable," said her grace; "gentlemen do not marry beneath them, as a rule."
She did not see the quick, hot flush that for one moment burned her daughter's face.
Then Lady Estelle leaned back in her chair, as though the subject had no further interest for her.
Suddenly the duke looked up from his paper.
"Of all the strange pieces of news I have ever read, this is the strangest," he said.
Both ladies glanced at him; the flush dying from the face of Lady Estelle left it unusually pale.
"You remember Ulric Studleigh," continued his grace, "that handsome 'ne'er-do-well?'"
This question produced a singular result. The duchess looked quickly at her daughter, then dropped her eyes. Lady Estelle started as though she had been touched to the heart by some keen, sharp sword.
"What of Ulric Studleigh?" asked her grace, in a curt voice.
"You will never believe it, my dear; he is the last man in the world to whom such luck seemed likely to fall. When he was in London, at the time we knew him so well, there were seven lives between himself and the earldom of Linleigh. By a strange chapter of accidents they are all gone. The young Earl of Linleigh died only last week, and now Ulric Studleigh has succeeded; he is Earl of Linleigh, and is expected in England next week. Only think what a change for him!"