“I only know”—speech for her had become almost intolerably difficult—“that Mr. Dinneford has asked my brother-in-law’s consent to his marrying her.”
The Duke may have been deeply annoyed, but not a line of his face betrayed him.
“Who is your brother-in-law, Mrs. Sanderson?”
Harriet told him.
“A very honest man”—the Duke checked a laugh—“I have been honored by a letter from him this morning.”
Even the lacerated Harriet could not forbear to smile.
“I am sure,” said she, “he will not let Mary marry Mr. Dinneford if he can help it.”
“Why not?” sharply interposed Lady Wargrave.
“Why not, Charlotte?” Her brother took upon himself to answer the question. “Because Sergeant Kelly is a very sensible and enlightened man who evidently tries to see things in their right relation.”
“Fiddle-de-dee!” said Charlotte, with the bluntness for which she was famous. “Depend upon it, he knows as well as anybody on which side his bread is buttered.”