She flew out of her chair. “Ah, my little one! Voyons, this makes me very happy!”
He put his arms round her. The red light went out of his eyes, and a softer look transformed his face. “‘My dear and only love,’ I give you good morrow,” he said. He shot a glance of mockery at his aunt, and took both Léonie’s hands in his. “‘My dear — and — only — love,’” he repeated maliciously, and kissed her fingers.
The Duchess gave a little crow of laughter. “Truly?” she inquired.
Fanny saw him smile into her eyes, a smile he kept for her alone. “Oh, quite, my dear!” he said negligently. Upon which my lady arose with an angry flounce of her armazine skirts, and announced that it was time she took her leave of them.
Léonie pressed her son’s hand coaxingly. “Dominique, you will escort your aunt to her carriage, will you not?”
“With the greatest pleasure on earth, madam,” he replied with promptitude, and offered his arm to the outraged lady.
She made her adieux stiffly, and went out with him. Halfway down the stairs her air of offended dignity deserted her. To be sure the boy was so very handsome, and she had ever a soft corner for a rake. She stole a glance at his profile, and suddenly laughed. “I declare you’re as disdainful as Avon,” she remarked. “But you need not be so cross, even if I do interest myself in your affairs.” She tapped his arm with her gloved hand. “You know, Dominic, I have a great fondness for you.”
The Marquis looked down at her rather enigmatically. “I shall strive to deserve your regard, ma’am,” he said.
“Shall you, my dear?” Lady Fanny’s tone was dry. “I wonder! Well, there’s no use denying I had hoped you would have made me happy, you and Juliana.”
“Console yourself, dear aunt, with the reflection that I shall cause neither you nor Juliana unhappiness.”