The Duchess took Miss Challoner’s hand, and held it. She faced her husband resolutely. “Monseigneur, you must listen to me. When I thought that this child was — was — ”
“Pray do not continue, my dear. I understand perfectly. If you will permit me to — ”
“No, Monseigneur,” she said firmly. “This time it is I who must speak. When I thought this child was not a respectable person, I said Dominique should not marry her. I made Rupert bring me to Dijon because I thought I would be very clever and arrange everything so that you would never know — ”
“This touching but misplaced confidence in your powers of concealment, ma mie — ”
“Justin, you shall listen to me!” said the Duchess. “Of course I might have known you would find out — how did you, Monseigneur? It was very clever of you, I think. No, no, let me speak! — I meant that Dominique should not marry Mademoiselle Challoner. But now I have seen her, and I am not a fool, me, and she is a person entirely respectable, and this time I do not care what you may say, Dominique is to marry her.”
His grace looked down at her impassively. “Quite right, my dear. He is,” he said.
The Duchess opened her eyes very wide indeed. “You do not mind, Monseigneur?”
“I cannot conceive why I should be supposed to mind,” said his grace. “The marriage seems to be eminently desirable.”
The Duchess let go of Miss Challoner to fling out her hands. “But, Monseigneur, if you do not mind why did you not say so at once?” she demanded.
“You may perhaps recall, my love, that you forbade me to speak.”