Her colour mounted; she hung down her head. “I have been very foolish. Indeed, I do not know what possessed me to blurt out so stupid a suggestion! I have been worried about him. That duel, which, thank God! was stopped, took such strong possession of my mind that I have not been easy ever since. It seemed so wanton, so senseless! Then you must know that he was attacked upon his way home from St. Albans, and escaped by the veriest miracle. I cannot rid myself of the fear that some danger threatens him. This indisposition seemed, in the agitation of the moment, to bear out my suspicion, and without pausing to consider I spoke the thought that darted through my head. I was wrong, extremely foolish, and I acknowledge it.”
He came towards her. “Are you worried about Peregrine? You need not be.”
“I cannot help myself. If I thought that my suspicions had in them the least vestige of truth I think I should be quite out of my mind with terror.”
“In that case.” said his lordship deliberately, “it is as well that there can be no truth in them. I have no doubt of Peregrine’s being speedily restored to health. As for his rather absurd duel, and his encounter on Finchley Common, such things may befall anyone. I counsel you to put them out of your mind.”
“My cousin did not take so light a view,” she said in a low voice.
She saw his face harden. “Have you discussed this matter with Mr. Bernard Taverner?” he asked sharply.
“Yes, certainly I have. Why should I not?”
“I could tell you several good reasons. I shall be obliged to you, Miss Taverner, if you will remember that whatever your relationship with that gentleman may be, it is I who am your guardian, and not he.”
“I do not forget it.”
“Excuse me. Miss Taverner, you forget it every time you bestow on him confidences which he has done nothing to deserve.”