“Proceed, my ward. Has Wellesley Poole made you an offer of marriage?”
“Good heavens, no!” said Judith.
“He will,” said his lordship coolly.
“I have not come about my own affairs, sir. I desire to talk to you of Peregrine.”
“Life is full of disappointments,” commented Worth. “Which spunging house is he in?”
“He is not in any,” said Judith stiffly. “Though I have little doubt that that is where he will end if something is not done to prevent him.”
“More than likely,” agreed Worth. “It won’t hurt him.” He picked up one of the phials from the table and delicately poured a few drops of what it contained on to his mixture.
Judith rose. “I see, sir, that I waste my time. You are not interested.”
“Not particularly,” admitted the Earl, setting the bottle down again. “The intelligence you have so far imparted has not been of a very interesting nature, has it?”
“It does not interest you, Lord Worth, that your ward is got into a wild set of company who cannot do him any good?”