“Do you know,” said the Marquis gently, “I find you excessively tedious, Juliana. You complain of the speed at which I choose to travel; you talk a deal of damned nonsense about my incivility and your sensibilities; you spurn dinner as though it were poisoned; you behave in short like a heroine out of a melodrama.”
Miss Marling was prevented from replying by the entrance of two serving-men. Covers were laid, and chairs placed at the table. The men withdrew, and Miss Marling said carefully: “You have a vast deal to say in my dispraise, Vidal. Pray, is it to be expected that I should feel no agitation? To be sure, I am sorry I complained of the speed, but to be left hour upon hour alone in a jolting chaise is enough to try the patience even of a Mary Challoner.”
“No,” said his lordship. A reminiscent smile softened his mouth for a brief moment. “Come and sit down.”
She came, but told him that a glass of wine to revive her was all that was needed.
The Marquis shrugged. “Just as you please, cousin.”
Miss Marling sipped her wine, and watched his lordship carve the capon. She shuddered, and said that she wondered at him. “For my part,” she added, “I should have thought any gentleman of the least sensibility would have refrained from — from gorging when the lady in his company — ”
“Ah, but I’m not a gentleman,” said the Marquis. “I have it on the best of authority that I am only a nobleman.”
“Good gracious, Vidal, who in the world dared to say such a thing?” cried his cousin, instantly diverted.
“Mary,” replied his lordship, pouring himself out a glass of wine.
“Well, if you sat eating as though nothing mattered save your dinner I’m not surprised,” said Juliana viciously. “If I were not so angry with her, the deceitful, sly wretch, I could pity her for all she must have undergone at your hands.”