“It will seem odd, indeed,” Shield said calmly.
Eustacie looked disparagingly at the Beau. “And it will seem odd to me when you are Lord Lavenham—very odd!”
There was a moment’s silence. The Beau glanced at Sir Tristram, and then said: “Ah yes, but, you see, I shall not be Lord Lavenham. My dear Tristram, do, I beg of you, try some of this snuff of mine, and let me have your opinion of it. I have added the veriest dash of Macouba to my old blend. Now, was I right?”
“I’m not a judge,” said Shield, helping himself to a pinch. “It seems well enough.”
Eustacie was frowning. “But I don’t understand! Why will you not be Lord Lavenham?”
The Beau turned courteously towards her. “Well, Eustacie, I am not Sylvester’s grandson, but only his great-nephew.”
“But when there is no grandson it must surely be you who are the heir?”
“Precisely, but there is a grandson, dear cousin. Did you not know that?”
“Certainly I know that there was Ludovic, but he is dead after all!”
“Who told you Ludovic was dead?” asked Shield, looking at her under knit brows.