Fishpingle repeated the words of the toast. “Master Lionel’s future wife.”
The Squire added firmly:
“May God bless her and her children!”
“May God bless her and her children!”
The toast was drunk, and the men sat down again. The Squire chuckled as he went on sipping his port. His face radiated good humour and happy expectations. He lowered his voice and his glass.
“Now, Ben, I am going to tell you something. I met the other day a most charming young lady, a dasher, sir, a dasher, clean bred, in the Stud Book, best stock in the kingdom, pretty, intelligent, and an heiress. Better still, she has no big place of her own.”
“Might I ask the name Sir Geoffrey?”
“Lady Margot Maltravers, the late Lord Beaumanoir’s only child.”
“An only child?” Fishpingle repeated the words reflectively.
“Why do you sit there lookin’ like an owl in an ivy bush? By the luck of things, Lady Margot is an only child. What of it? What of it?”