“Oh, beyond anything! But I don’t mean to complain; I have had a famous time of it! But come into the drawing-room! My sister is there, and I have something very particular to say to you. Ju, here is Lord Worth.”
Miss Taverner, who, for reasons best known to herself, had suddenly become absorbed in her embroidery, laid aside the frame and got up. She shook hands with the Earl, but before she could speak Peregrine was off again.
“I wish you would tell me, sir, what you call that way of tying your cravat! It is devilish natty!”
“I don’t call it anything,” replied Worth. “It is a fashion of my own. You are none the worse for your adventure, Miss Taverner?”
“Oh, a fashion of your own! That means, I daresay, that it will be all the crack in a week. Is it very difficult to do?”
“Yes, very,” said the Earl. “Is that particular thing you wanted to say to me? I am highly flattered.”
“Oh no, that was not it! You must know that I took a great fancy for the sea—never was upon a yacht before in my life, and had no notion what it could be like. Such a degree of comfort in so small a space! And then, sailing the vessel, you know! Evans thinks I have a natural aptitude for it. It was a pity I had to come ashore so soon, for there is a great deal about a ship I have not learned yet.”
The Earl’s attention seemed to be fixed on Miss Taverner, but he turned his head at that, and said in some amusement: “Is there indeed? Well, I am happy to know that you are not going to challenge me to a duel (as you once did) for putting you on board my yacht.”
“Challenge you to a duel! Good God, no! Of course, I don’t say that I should have gone aboard willingly if you had asked me to, because then I knew nothing of being at sea, but that is all changed now, and I am excessively grateful to you.”
“Lord Worth,” interposed Miss Taverner, “Perry and I feel we owe you an apology for not treating you with that degree of confidence, which—”