In another moment he was gone. Léonie looked dolefully at Lord Rupert. “Do you suppose it is that bourgeoise, Rupert?”
“Devil a doubt!” said his lordship glumly. “But I’ll tell you what, Léonie; if we can pack him off to France there’ll be an end to that affair.”
It was as well for his peace of mind that he did not follow his nephew that evening. The Marquis stayed only to change his mud-stained garments, and was off again within twenty minutes, bound for the Theatre Royal. The play was more than half over, and in one of the boxes Sophia Challoner displayed a pouting countenance. Eliza Matcham had been twitting her the whole evening on the non-appearance of her fine beau, and she was in no very good humour. Her sister, with Cousin Joshua assiduously at her elbow, said tranquilly that the Marquis could hardly be expected to come after the happenings of the night before.
For the tale of the duel had spread like wildfire, so that the backwash of the sea of rumour had already reached Miss Challoner’s ears. It had also reached those of Cousin Joshua, who was not slow to say what he thought of the profligate Marquis. Sophia told him sharply that it was presumption in him to judge one so far above him, and by the time he had thought out a suitable retort, she had turned her white shoulder, and was talking with great vivacity to Mr. Matcham. Cousin Joshua addressed the rest of his homily to Miss Challoner, who listened in silence. Her gaze was so abstracted that he was beginning to suspect her of inattention. Then he observed a change in her expression. She stiffened, and her eyes grew intent and widened a little. Even Joshua could not suppose that this sudden interest was caused by his discourse, and he turned his head to see what had caught her eye.
“Upon my soul!” he said, puffing out his cheeks. “Shameless! If he has the effrontery to approach Sophia I shall know how to act.”
The Marquis of Vidal was standing in the pit, raking the boxes with his quizzing-glass.
A laugh trembled on Miss Challoner’s lips. Shameless? Of course he was shameless, but he was sublimely unconscious of it, unconscious too of the notice he was attracting from all who recognized him.
Mary looked at her cousin at last. “That is just as well, Joshua,” she said, “for I think he is going to approach her now.”
Mr. Simpkins saw the Marquis elbowing his way through the crowd in the pit, and tugged at Sophia’s sleeve. “Cousin!” said he, “I cannot but consider myself responsible for you, and I forbid you to speak with that profligate.”
This had not quite the desired effect. Sophia’s pout turned to an expression of sparkling eagerness. “Oh, is he here? Where? I do not see him. I knew he would never fail me. How I shall scold him for being so late!”