‘Why, as I do all things, I flatter myself, Lucy. Do you know Lord St. Jerome?’
‘Verbally. We have exchanged monosyllables; but he is of the other set.’
‘He is cursedly familiar with the little Dacre. As the friend of her father, I think I shall interfere. Is there anything in it, think you?’
‘Oh! no; she is engaged to another.’
‘Engaged!’ said the Duke, absolutely turning pale.
‘Do you remember a Dacre at Eton?’
‘A Dacre at Eton!’ mused the Duke. At another time it would not have been in his power to have recalled the stranger to his memory; but this evening the train of association had been laid, and after struggling a moment with his mind he had the man. ‘To be sure I do: Arundel Dacre, an odd sort of a fellow; but he was my senior.’
‘Well, that is the man; a nephew of Guardy, and cousin, of course, to La Bellissima. He inherits, you know, all the property. She will not have a sou; but old Dacre, as you call him, has managed pretty well, and Monsieur Arundel is to compensate for the entail by presenting him with a grandson.’
‘The deuce!’
‘The deuce, indeed! Often have I broken his head. Would that I had to a little more purpose!’