“Oh, he knows whose mamma to wait upon!” said Lady Dacres, with a sly wink at her friend; “how sweet the young fellows are to the mother of such a daughter.”
Lady Sunderland tittered. “There was a time when I thought it was the mamma and not the daughter,” she said, with a simper; “but now it’s, ‘How’s Lady Clancarty?’ and ‘Where’s your ladyship’s daughter?’ and ‘My compliments to the fair Lady Elizabeth.’ La, how the beaux smirk and bow!”
“Now’s your chance, Betty, dear,” said Lady Dacres; “don’t make ’em dance too long, my girl, we can’t be young but once.”
Betty gave her a cold stare. “I’m already married, madam,” she said, and pushed the bottle nearer to the elbow of the old peeress; “take another drop, my lady, ’twill sustain you under the blow.”
Lady Sunderland set down her glass and fixed her daughter with an irate eye, but before she could give voice to her wrath they were interrupted by the entrance of Lord Spencer. He came in with an air of cool elegance, faultlessly attired, and bowing gracefully to the three women, kissed his mother’s hand, and took his place with his back to the window, overlooking them with an air of superiority that was peculiarly exasperating to his high-spirited sister.
“La, my dear, what a happy woman you are,” Lady Dacres said, in an audible aside to Lady Sunderland, “to be the mother of two such beautiful children. ’Pon my soul, Spencer would have broken my heart at eighteen!”
“Nay, you would have broken mine, madam,” Lord Spencer replied gracefully.
She giggled and took another draught of usquebaugh, following Lady Clancarty’s suggestion.
“Tell us the news, Spencer,” said Lady Betty impatiently, with a contemptuous glance at the old woman.
“The king is better,” said her brother, with a drawl, “and the Princess of Denmark did not go out to-day because of a quarrel with Lady Marlborough.”