“Lord Howard, I have heard so much that is interesting about you.”
“Not from Muffins, then.”
“Yes, but also from Silverstairs. He told me that you are the best gentleman jockey in England and a Sanskrit scholar besides.”
“Oh, I can straddle a horse, if it comes to that, but otherwise he exaggerates. He has caught that from his wife—unless it happens to be from her sister.”
At mention of the girl, Leilah, who had been looking across the room, turned to Tempest again. In looking she saw this young woman whose allurements—and possibilities—were generally regarded as excessive. Recently she had become engaged—perhaps for the tenth time. Coincidentally was the announcement that she was going in for light opera. Now, in reference to her, Leilah said:
“You have met Aurelia, then?”
“I found it very difficult not to.”
“And this young Lord Buttercups to whom she is engaged, is he nice?”
Tempest adjusted his monocle. “Very. A trifle wrong in the upper story. So was his father. So was his grandfather. A fine old English family.”
Faintly, as before, Leilah smiled. “I understand that Aurelia is studying for the stage. Such a queer idea, don’t you think—for an American heiress, I mean.”