Cleone sank on to a stool beside them, her silks swirling about her.
"Oh, Auntie, please take Jenny to the Dering ball next week!" she said impulsively. "You will come, won't you, sweet?"
Jennifer blushed and stammered.
"To be sure," nodded her ladyship. "Of course she will come! James, sit down! You should know by now how the sight of anyone on their feet fatigues me, silly boy! Dear me, child, how like you are to your brother! Are you looking at my wig? Monstrous, isn't it?"
Jennifer was covered with confusion.
"Oh, no, ma'am, I—"
Her ladyship chuckled.
"Of course you were. How could you help it? Cleone tells me it is a ridiculous creation, don't you, my love?"
"I do, and I truly think it!" answered Cleone, her eyes dancing. "'Tis just a little more impossible than the last."
"There!" Lady Malmerstoke turned back to Jennifer. "She is an impertinent hussy, is she not?"