Lord Langerdale held out his hand frankly and drew me a little on one side, although not out of the Count’s hearing.
“Mr. Morton,” he said pleasantly, “I am going to make a somewhat extraordinary request. My only excuse for it is a lady’s will, and when you reach my age you will know that it is a thing by no means to be lightly regarded. My wife has been very much impressed by what she terms a marvellous likeness between you and—and a very near relative of hers whom she had lost sight of for a long while. She is most anxious to make your acquaintance. May I have the honour of presenting you to her?”
For a moment my head swam. The likeness of Lady Langerdale to my mother, and then this strange fancy on her part! What if they should be something more than coincidences? The very thought was bewildering. But how could it be? No; the thing was impossible. Still, the request was couched in such terms that there could be but one answer.
“I shall be extremely pleased!” I declared readily.
“Then come into the drawing-room for a few minutes, will you?” Lord Langerdale said. “Good-night, Eugène! No use asking you to join us, I know.”
Count de Cartienne turned on his heel with brow as black as thunder.
“Good-night, Lord Langerdale!” he said stiffly; “Good-night, Mr. Morton!”
“But I am coming with you, you know!” I exclaimed, surprised at his manner. “Couldn’t you wait for me five minutes?”
“It is impossible!” he answered shortly; “we are late already! My carriage must have been waiting half an hour. I had no idea of the time.”
It was rather an embarrassing moment for me. The Count evidently expected me to keep my engagement with him, and would be offended if I did not do so. On the other hand, Lord Langerdale was waiting to take me to his wife, and, from the slight frown with which he was regarding de Cartienne, I judged that he did not approve of his interference.