“Mr. Beaumont,” she had said, “please tell me something about Lord Lambeth’s family. How would you say it in England?—his position.”
“His position?” Percy’s instinct was to speak as if he had never heard of such a matter.
“His rank—or whatever you call it. Unfortunately we haven’t got a ‘Peerage,’ like the people in Thackeray.”
“That’s a great pity,” Percy pleaded. “You’d find the whole matter in black and white, and upon my honour I know very little about it.”
The girl seemed to wonder at this innocence. “You know at least whether he’s what they call a great noble.”
“Oh yes, he’s in that line.”
“Is he a ‘peer of the realm’?”
“Well, as yet—very nearly.”
“And has he any other title than Lord Lambeth?”
“His title’s the Marquis of Lambeth.” With which the fountain of Bessie’s information appeared to run a little dry. She looked at him, however, with such interest that he presently added: “He’s the son of the Duke of Bayswater.”