“The nicest thing about it, my dear Count,” she said, “is that you are here to tell it.”
“Even if he doesn’t in the least deserve to be here,” the Duke interjected. “Such a—my dear Edmund, don’t do it again. You’re too young and innocent to die. Leave the strategy to me—and my lady, yonder; we will give you enough of fighting in due time—and soon.”
The Count laughed in good natured imperturbability.
“I’m done,” he said frankly. “I’m ready to take orders from you or my lady—particularly from my lady.”
The Duke gave him a quick, sharp glance.
“The orders will come through me,” he said, rather curtly.
Madeline Spencer held out her hand to the Count.
“When His Highness grows jealous,” she said, languidly arising and shaking down her skirts, “it’s time, you know, for you to go—come back when he is not here;” and with a provoking smile at the Duke, she flung the Count a kiss—“for your wounded ear, my lord.”
XIII
IN THE JAPONICA WALK
The Regent signed the last document, and, pushing it across the table, laid aside the pen.