“Oh!” gasped her ladyship, quite faint with relief. She sank back upon her cushions. “Of course she’ll do no such thing, Justin. Why, have you forgot that I’ve sent her to Paris to be out of the unfortunate young man’s way?”
“On the contrary, I understood that you sent her there to prevent a mésalliance.”
“Well, but — but so it is!” said Fanny, taken aback.
His grace flicked a speck of snuff from his sleeve. “I should inform you, my dear sister, that the marriage has my support.”
Lady Fanny felt for her vinaigrette. “But I won’t have it! He’s a nobody, Justin! I intend her to make a far better match. I made sure you would dislike it excessively. Pray, what in the world has come over you? You’ve never set eyes on young Comyn.”
“I hesitate to contradict you, Fanny,” said his grace politely, “but you will perhaps allow me to be not yet in my dotage. I have met and approved Mr. Comyn. He seemed to be a young gentleman of considerable presence of mind. I am only surprised that he should wish to ally himself with my niece.”
Lady Fanny took a sniff at her salts, and regained strength enough to say: “I suppose you have gone mad, Justin. Let me tell you that I have every hope that Juliana will wed Bertrand de Saint-Vire.”
His grace smiled. “I fear, my dear Fanny, that you are doomed to disappointment.”
“I don’t know what you mean, and I’m sure I don’t desire to!” said her ladyship pettishly. “I might have guessed you would be monstrous disagreeable! And if you are come home early from Newmarket only to encourage Juliana in her waywardness I think it quite abominable of you,”
“Pray calm yourself, Fanny; I am about to relieve you of my presence. You will no doubt be glad to learn that I am leaving London to-night.”