‘This young gentleman has been spoiled by travel, Miss Dacre,’ said the Duke of Burlington. ‘You have much to answer for, for he tells every one that you were his guardian.’
The eyes of Miss Dacre and the Duke of St. James met. He bowed with that graceful impudence which is, after all, the best explanation for every possible misunderstanding.
‘I always heard that the Duke of St. James was born of age,’ said Miss Dacre.
‘The report was rife on the Continent when I travelled,’ said Mrs. Dallington Vere.
‘That was only a poetical allegory, which veiled the precocious results of my fair tutor’s exertions.’
‘How discreet he is!’ said the Duke of Burlington. ‘You may tell immediately that he is two-and-forty.’
‘We are neither of us, though, off the pavé yet, Burlington; so what say you to inducing these inspiring muses to join the waltz which is just now commencing?’
The young Duke offered his hand to Miss Dacre, and, followed by their companions, they were in a few minutes lost in the waves of the waltzers.