“Sit down, Theo!” said St. Erth. “Turvey, tell someone to send up the brandy, and glasses!”
The valet bowed, but said: “Anticipating that your lordship would wish it, I have already procured it from the butler. Allow me, my lord, to pull off your boots!”
The Earl seated himself, and stretched out one leg. His valet, on one knee before him, drew off the Hessian, handling it with loving care, and casting an anxious eye over its shining black surface to detect a possible scratch. He could find none, and, with a sigh of relief, drew off the second boot, and set both down delicately side by side. He then assisted the Earl to take off his close-fitting coat, and held up for him to put on a frogged and padded dressing-gown of brocaded silk. The Earl ripped the intricately tied cravat from his throat, tossed it aside, and nodded dismissal. “Thank you! I will ring when I am ready for you to come back to me.”
The valet bowed, and withdrew, bearing with him the cherished boots. St. Erth poured out two glasses of brandy, gave one to his cousin, and sank into a deep chair on the other side of the fire. Theo, who had blinked at the magnificence of the dressing-gown, openly laughed at him, and said: “I think you must have joined the dandy-set, Gervase!”
“Yes, so Martin seemed to think also,” agreed Gervase, rolling the brandy round his glass.
“Oh — ! You heard that, then?”
“Was I not meant to hear it?”
“I don’t know.” Theo was silent for a moment, looking into the fire, but presently he raised his eyes to his cousin’s face, and said abruptly: “He resents you, Gervase.”
“That has been made plain to me — but not why.”
“Is the reason so hard to seek? You stand between him and the Earldom.”