“Bring a bottle? Lord, I’ve brought six!” said Rupert. “We’ll crack one at once, and if you don’t find I’m right — well, you’ve changed, Justin, and that’s all there is to it.”
Léonie said indignantly: “Rupert, I do not care what you do, but I wish to present you to Mademoiselle Challoner, who is to marry Dominique.”
His lordship was roused to look round. “What, is she here?” He perceived Mary at last. “So you’re the girl that confounded nevvy of mine ran off with!” he said. “I wish you joy of him, my dear. A pretty dance you’ve led us. You’ll forgive me if I leave you at this present. There’s a little matter demanding my attention. Now, Avon, I’m with you.
Léonie called after him: “But Rupert, Rupert! Where are Juliana and M. Comyn?”
Rupert looked back from the doorway to say: They’ll be here soon enough. Too soon for my liking. Stap me if ever I saw such a pair for ogling and holding hands. It’s enough to turn a man’s stomach. Their chaise fell behind.”
He went out as he spoke, and Léonie turned to Miss Challoner with a gesture of resignation. “He is mad, you understand. You must not be offended with him, for presently he will recover, I assure you.”
“I could not be offended, ma’am,” said Miss Challoner. “He makes me want to laugh.” She moved a little away from the Duchess. “Madame, are you — are you sure that you wish me to marry your son?”
Léonie nodded. “But yes, I am quite sure, petite.” She sat down by the fire, and held out her hand. “Come, ma chère, you shall tell me all about it, please, and — I think, not cry, hein?”
Miss Challoner dabbed at her eyes. “No, ma’am, certainly not cry,” she said rather tremulously.
Ten minutes later Miss Marling came in to find her friend seated at the Duchess’s feet, with both her hands clasped in Léonie’s. She said brightly: “Oh, Aunt Léonie, is it all decided, then? Has my Uncle Justin given his consent? I vow it is famous!”