Lord Mablethorpe then demanded to be told the cause of her distress. When it had been explained to him, once (unintelligibly) by Phoebe, and once by Deborah, his brows drew together across the bridge of his beautiful nose, and he said with more decision than Deborah had ever before heard in his voice: “That settles it, then!”
Miss Laxton heaved a huge sigh, and tucked her hand in his. “I knew you would know what to do!”
“Well, it’s to be hoped he does,” said Lady Bellingham, with some asperity. “If I had known that all you wanted was to hear someone say that settles it, I would have said it myself, for I an sure it is easy enough to say, and doesn’t signify in the least!”
“I do know what to do,” said his lordship, laying Phoebe back against the sofa-cushions, and rising to his feet.
“Don’t leave me!” implored Phoebe.
He smiled warmly down at her. “I am never going to leave you again, my sweet.”
“You can’t come and stay here!” interpolated Lady Belling ham. “I should be very pleased to have you, of course, but now that Kit is home, we have no room.”
“I don’t mean to stay here, ma’am. I am going to take Phoebe to her aunt in Wales. Deb, I shall need you too!”
Miss Grantham could not help laughing at his air of authority. “The devil you will! What do you mean to do, you absurd creature?”
“I mean to marry Phoebe out of hand, if her aunt will permit. I shall take her to Wales, lay the whole case before her aunt and—”