"Oh lord!" gasped Hay ruefully. "I didn't mean it, Georgy, really I didn't!"
She allowed herself to be mollified, but remarked sagely: "You may think him lucky, but I expect Lady Worth won't."
She was quite right. From the harbour of Sir Henry Clinton's gallant arm, Judith too had perceived her brother-in-law and his partner. That the couple could waltz better than any other in the room, and were attracting some attention, afforded her not the slightest gratification. She had observed the look on Colonel Audley's face, and although she had never before seen him wear that particular expression she had not the least doubt of its significance.
Sir Henry, noticing the direction of her troubled gaze, manoeuvred that he too might see what had caught her eye. He said: "Your brother-in-law, is it not, Lady Worth?"
"Yes," she acknowledged.
"Dances very well, I see. All the Duke's family do, of course. But he will be making enemies if he monopolises Bab Childe."
"Monopolises her?" faltered Judith. "Is not this the first time he has danced with her?"
"Oh no! He was dancing with her the last waltz. My wife tells me the young fellows form up in column for the honour of obtaining the lady's hand."
"Charles is fortunate, then," said Judith.
"If you choose to call it fortunate," said Sir Henry, giving her a somewhat shrewd look. "I don't want to see any of my staff entangled in that direction. She has a very unsettling effect, from what I can discover. One of Barnes's boys lost his head badly over her, and is now of about as much use to Barnes as my wife's little spaniel would be."