“Big shoots are not at all in my way.”
“So I supposed. Still, as Lady Dalrymple and I and many other delightful people will be there, your highness may perhaps condescend to find attraction, if not in pheasants?”
Her tone was bantering, but did he dream when he read in it a touch of pressure? Prudence shook a warning finger, Love laughed.
“It is very good of you to suggest it,” said Wareham, “but I really think you must be mistaken, for Lord Milborough and I only exchanged a few words, and—”
“He is even less in your way than big shoots, you would like to say,” broke in Anne, with a laugh. “Well, I own one may have too much of his society.”
“Then why go there?” asked Wareham bluntly.
“Can one choose just what one likes? When I can, I do.” She quickened her pace. “Here is the rain at last.”
“And in three minutes the house.”
The door was open, lights streamed out; evidently another arrival had just taken place, and there was some amazement on the face of the servants at seeing Miss Dalrymple appear in the dusk, escorted by Mr Wareham.
“You will come in?” she said.