There was only one other girl at the table, Lady Agatha de Champion, and her slouching, stooping figure and fuzzled hair did not show to advantage beside the heiress's upright, rounded shape and well-brushed waves.
"Where have you been all the afternoon?" demanded the Duke, reproachfully, over my shoulder. "I searched everywhere down-stairs, and finally sent to your room, but your maid knew nothing of you."
"I have been sitting with Lady Tilchester in her sitting-room," I said, smiling.
"Here comes Margaret. She shall answer to me for kidnapping my guests like this." And he went forward to meet her.
"Do not scold me," said Lady Tilchester, as she returned with him. "I think Mrs. Gurrage will tell you we have spent a very pleasant afternoon."
"Indeed, yes," I said.
"And I mean to spend a pleasant evening," he whispered, low, to me. "As soon as you have eaten that horrid muffin I shall carry you off to see my pictures."
I looked at Lady Tilchester. What would she wish me to do?
"Impress upon him the necessity of being charming to the heiress. You were quite right. He has a serious rival," she whispered, and we walked off.
The Duke can be agreeable in his unattractive, lackadaisical way.
He is so full of information, not of the statistical kind like Miss
Trumpet, but the result of immense cultivation.