“Yes, of course! Pray hush!” whispered Harriet, red to the roots of her hair.
“Well, if it don’t beat all!” he ejaculated.
“What does?” enquired Belinda, looking up at him innocently.
“Why, you, of course!” he responded, without hesitation. “Dash it, you beat ’em all to flinders! Why haven’t I seen you before? You can’t have been in Bath for long, I’ll swear!”
“Oh, no! Mr. Rufford brought me here yesterday!” she told him.
“Mr. Rufford? Who’s he?” demanded his lordship.
“Charlie, pray do not!” Harriet begged, in a good deal of distress. “You should not ask such impertinent questions! You know you should not!”
“I was forgetting,” explained Belinda. “He said he was Mr. Rufford, but all the time he was a Duke. And now I don’t know what his name is, for I was so surprised I never asked him! Oh, ma’am, do please tell me!”
“ What? ” gasped Lord Gaywood, stopping dead upon the top step. “Harriet, what in thunder—?”
“Gaywood, I beg you will be quiet!” Harriet said. “I will explain it presently! Belinda, I will take you up to the bed-chamber that has been made ready for you, and you will like to take your bonnet off, I daresay, and your pelisse. And then you must make your curtsy to my grandmama.”