“To tell you the truth, Miss Taverner, your wishes in the matter do not appear to me to be of much importance. I am glad, of course, that your heart is not broken,” he added kindly.
“My heart would scarcely be broken by your refusal to consent to my marriage, sir. When I wish to be married I shall marry, with or without your consent.”
“And who,” asked the Earl, “is the fortunate man?”
“There is no one,” said Miss Taverner curtly. “But—”
The Earl took out his snuff-box, and opened it. “But my dear Miss Taverner, are you not being a trifle indelicate? You are not proposing, I trust, to command some gentleman to marry you? The impropriety of such an action must strike even so masterful a mind as yours.”
Miss Taverner’s eyes were smouldering dangerously. “What I wish to make plain to you, Lord Worth, is that if any gentleman whom I—if anyone should ask me to marry him whom I—you know very well what I mean!”
He smiled. “Yes, Miss Taverner, I know what you mean. But keep my letter by you, for it tells you just as plainly what I mean.”
“Why?” she shot at him. “What object can you have?”
He took a pinch of snuff, and lightly dusted his fingers before he answered her. Then he said in his cool way: “You are a very wealthy young woman, Miss Taverner.”
“Ah!” said Judith, “I begin to understand.”