Sherry laughed. “No, no, we were married today! Ask Gil if we were not!”
“But this is most unexpected!” Sir Montagu said. “You must allow me to offer you my felicitations, Sherry.” His cold eyes ran over Hero; his smile broadened. “Ah — my deepest felicitations, Sherry! And so you were married today? Dear me, yes! How very interesting! But why did you not send me a card for the wedding?”
Mr Ringwood unexpectedly decided to bear his part in this interchange. He said rather shortly: “Private ceremony. St George’s Hanover Square. Lady Sheringham desired it so. Don’t care for a fuss.”
“In deep mourning,” corroborated Ferdy, feeling that a little embroidery was needed.
“No, not in mourning,” said Mr Ringwood, annoyed. “Wouldn’t be here if she was. Family reasons.”
“Nonsense!” said Sherry, rejecting this kindly intervention. “To tell you the truth, Monty, we made a runaway match of it.”
“Save trouble,” murmured Ferdy, faint but pursuing.
“I understand perfectly,” bowed Sir Montagu. “I must think myself fortunate to have been amongst the first to make Lady Sheringham’s acquaintance. For I do not think — ?”
“No, she’s never been to town before,” replied Sherry. “She’s a cousin of the Bagshots: known her all my life.”
“Indeed?” Sir Montagu’s eyebrows seemed to indicate that he found this surprising. “Well, that is very delightful, to be sure. But I fancy the curtain is about to go up on the second act. I must not be lingering here.”