“But what a charming match!” said the Duke.
“Oh, well!” said Matthew charitably, “no one could blame my father for nabbling Thirsk, after all! Devilish plump in the pocket, you know, and there’s the title besides, and four more of my sisters to be provided for! As for Charlotte, it’s all very well for you to cavil, Gilly, but you are your own master, and may do as you please. You don’t have to live at Croylake, dangling after my mother, and having to pour tea for a parcel of humbugging Methodies five evenings out of the seven! I can tell you, there’s no bearing it!”
The kettle had boiled by this time; Gideon lifted it from the hob, and poured the sherbet he had brewed in it on to his spirit. A fragrant aroma rose from the bowl. He stirred the mixture, his attention fixed on it. But the Duke, catching the note of bitterness in Matthew’s voice, looked at him rather searchingly. Matthew averted his eyes with a little laugh, and began to boast of Oxford larks.
Gideon, who rarely paid the least heed to him, interrupted his chatter without ceremony. “How long do you mean to stay in town, Adolphus?”
“I don’t know. As long as I am permitted, I daresay!”
“No time at all, in fact.” He began to ladle the punch into three glasses. “Did you tell me you had Belper toad-eating you? What the devil made you advise him you were in London?”
“Don’t be so bacon-brained, Gideon!” Gilly implored. “Of course I never did so! That was left for my uncle to do. And he did it. I found Belper awaiting me on my doorstep.”
“If you had as much sense as a pullet you would have kicked him off your doorstep!” commented the Captain.
“‘I would I had thy inches!’” retorted the Duke ruefully.
“Resolution is all you stand in need of, my child.”