“Oh!” said Peregrine. “So you are here! I have been searching for you all over town!”
The Earl cast him a look of faint surprise, and gathered up his cards. “Well, now that you have found me, do you think you could sit down—keeping me under observation, if you like—until after the game?” he said.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you!” said Peregrine. “Only they told me at White’s you were out of town, and when I called at the Alfred they said you had not been there for months.”
“Come and take a hand,” said Lord Alvanley kindly. “You should not have wasted your time at the Half-Read, my boy. They have seventeen bishops there, so I hear. Worth and I gave it up after the eighth. As for White’s, it is my belief Worth taught them always to say he was out of town. Do you care to join us?”
Peregrine, much flattered, thanked him, and took a place between Sir Henry Mildmay and a gentleman with very red hair and very blue eyes, whom he discovered later to be Lord Yarmouth. The stakes at the table were extremely high, and he soon found that his luck was quite out. This did not trouble him much, for he did not think Worth could very well refuse to pay any debts he might incur over and above what little remained of the quarter’s allowance. He took his losses in good part, and cheerfully wrote a number of I O Us, which Worth, who held the bank, accepted with an unmoved countenance.
Mr. Brummell, who had come over to observe the game, lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. The hour was considerably advanced, and the table broke up before the bank changed hands. Mr. Brummell took the Earl away with him in search of iced champagne, and murmured: “Must he play at your table, Julian? Really, you know, it does not look well.”
“Young fool,” said the Earl, unemotionally.
“Just a little out of place,” said Brummell, taking a glass from the tray a waiter was presenting to him.
The Duke of Bedford came up at that moment with Lord Frederick Bentinck and Mr. Skeffington, forming the nucleus of the circle that very soon gathered round Mr. Brummell, and nothing more was said of Peregrine and his losses. The Duke, who was a great personal friend of the Beau, wanted his opinion on a matter of some importance. “Now George, tell me!” he said earnestly. “I have changed my tailor, you know, and this is the coat my new man has made for me. What do you say? Will it answer? Do you like the cut of it?”
Mr. Brummell continued to sip his champagne, but over the rim of his glass he gazed thoughtfully at his grace, while the circle about him waited in interested silence for his verdict. The Duke stood anxiously showing himself off. Mr. Brummell’s eyes dwelled for an appreciable time upon the coat’s very bright gilt buttons; he gave a faint sigh and the Duke blenched.