Lord Lethbridge’s hard hazel eyes lingered for a moment on Lady Massey’s face. Then he turned slightly to look at the startled Macaroni. He said smilingly: “Do you tell me I am before you with the news, Crosby? I thought you of all people must have known.” His satin-clad arm lay on the table, the pack of cards clasped in his white hand. The light of the candles in the huge chandelier over the table caught the jewels in the lace at his throat, and made his eyes glitter queerly.
“What are you talking about?” demanded the Macaroni, half rising from his seat.
“But Rule, my dear Crosby!” said Lethbridge. “Your cousin Rule, you know.”
“What of Rule?” inquired the Lady Amelia, regretfully pushing one of her rouleaus across the table.
Lethbridge’s glance flickered to Lady Massey’s face again.
“Why, only that he is about to enter the married state,” he replied.
There was a stir of interest. Someone said “Good God, I thought he was safe to stay single! Well, upon my soul! Who’s the fortunate fair one, Lethbridge?”
“The fortunate fair one is the youngest Miss Winwood,” said Lethbridge. “A romance, you perceive. I believe she is not out of the schoolroom.”
The Macaroni, Mr Crosby Drelincourt, mechanically straightened the preposterous bow he wore in place of a cravat. “Pho, it is a tale!” he said uneasily. “Where had you it?”
Lethbridge raised his thin, rather slanting brows. “Oh, I had it from the little Maulfrey. It will be in the Gazette by tomorrow.”