Peregrine looked at him for a moment, and then, lowering his gaze, took the glass with a murmured word of thanks, and sat down.
The Earl moved towards a deep chair with earpieces. “And now what is it?” he asked. “I apprehend it to be a matter of some importance, since it sends you looking all over town for me.”
His guardian’s voice being for once free from its usual blighting iciness, Peregrine, who had quite determined to go away without mentioning the business which had brought him, changed his mind, shot a swift, shy look at the Earl, and blurted out: “I want to talk to you on a—on a very delicate subject. In fact, marriage!” He gulped down half the wine in his glass, and took another look at the Earl, this time tinged with defiance.
Worth, however, merely raised his brows. “Whose marriage?” he asked.
“Mine!” said Peregrine.
“Indeed!” Worth twisted the stem of his wineglass between his finger and thumb, idly watching the light on the tawny wine. “It seems a trifle sudden. Who is the lady?”
Peregrine, who had been quite prepared to be met at the outset with a flat refusal to listen to him, took heart at this calm way of receiving the news, and sat forward in his chair. “I daresay you will not know her, sir, though I think you must know her parents, at least by repute.”
The Earl was in the act of raising his glass to his lips, but he lowered it again. “She has parents, then?” he asked, an inflection of surprise in his voice.
Peregrine stared. “Of course she has parents! What can you be thinking of?”
“Evidently of something quite different,” murmured his lordship. “But continue: who are these parents who are known to me by repute?”