“My little heart, you don’t hate it? You’re not afraid?”
“Afraid?” cried his heart, alight with laughter. “Afraid with you by me? Am I mad?”
He knelt at that and put his arms about her. Even kneeling his black head was higher than her bright one.
“It’s I who am afraid. Biddy, what if I made you stop smiling? Biddy, Biddy, don’t ever stop smiling!”
“Never fear!” she cried. “Never fear, my dear love. I’ll never in this world stop smiling——” She caught her breath, and shook her curls, and laid her laughing lips gayly and bravely against his. “Nor in the next one, either!” said Her Grace.
She kept her word. That shining mischief of hers never wavered—nothing touched it, not the frozen hatred of the four outraged ladies or the surly insolence of the three dark boys, or the indifferent disdain of the county neighbours, or the blank indignation of the court. He watched over her with terror and rage in his heart; they, they to scorn his miracle!
That first dinner, with the ladies Pamela, Clarissa, Maude, and Charlotte, looking down their high noses at the radiant intruder, pouring out venom, poison, and vinegar as freely as wine——
“Say the word,” he told her through his teeth, safe in the sanctuary of their dark and beautiful room, “and the four of them shall walk to London!”
“Well, if they crawled there, ’twould be no more than they deserve!” said Her Grace with decision. “The cross faces they have, and the mean tongues! They’d wear the patience out of a Saint.”
“They can start packing now!” he cried, and made for the door.