Miss Marling, overcome by the ignominy of her position, sank down on the bank by the roadside and gave way to her emotions. The postillions regarded her with interested sympathy; Richards coughed in embarrassment; and my lord, raising his clenched fists to heaven, prayed to be delivered from every female but one.
Chapter XV
At about the same time that the Marquis of Vidal’s chaise lost a wheel, the Duchess of Avon and Lord Rupert Alastair arrived in Paris, and drove straight to the Hôtel Avon.
“What had we best do first, Rupert?” her grace asked anxiously, as the chaise drew into the courtyard.
“Have some dinner,” replied his lordship, with a prodigious yawn. “If there’s anyone in the house, which I doubt.”
“But why should you doubt? We know that Dominique is in Paris!”
“Lord, Léonie, don’t be so simple! Dominic’s lax, but damme, he wouldn’t bring his mistress to your house.” Lord Rupert heaved his body out of the corner of the chaise, and looked out of the window. “Place looks as deserted as a tomb,” he remarked, opening the door.
A solitary lackey came out of the house, attracted by the noise of the arrival, and began to say that his lordship was out of town. Then Lord Rupert sprang from the chaise, and the lackey, recognizing him, looked very much taken aback, and as though he did not know what to say.
Lord Rupert eyed him appraisingly. “One of Lord Vidal’s servants, aren’t you?” he said. “Where’s his lordship?”
“I couldn’t say, my lord,” answered the lackey cautiously.