With such a high-sounding name, she could not look other than aristocratic.
She was pretty as well, and accomplished; with just that dash of freedom, in speech and in manner, which distinguishes the lady of haut ton from the wife or daughter of a “tradesman.”
In Miss Courtney it was carried to a slight excess. So a prudish person might have thought.
But Mrs Girdwood was not prudish—least of all, in the presence of such people. She was delighted with the Honourable Geraldine; and wondered not at her wild way—only at her amiable condescensions!
She was charmed also with the count, and his beautiful countess.
His lordship had done the correct thing at last—by introducing her to such company. Though still passing under the assumed name of Swinton—even among his own friends—the invitation to that dinner-party disarmed her of suspicion. The dinner itself still more; and she no longer sought to penetrate the mystery of his incognito.
Besides, he had repeated the plea that hitherto satisfied her. Still was it diplomacy!
Even Julia was less distant with him. A house handsomely furnished; a table profusely spread; titled guests around it; well-dressed servants in waiting—all this proved that Mr Swinton was somebody. And it was only his temporary town residence, taken for a time and a purpose—still diplomacy. She had not yet seen his splendid place in the country, to which he had given hints of an invitation.
Proud republican as Julia Girdwood was, she was still but the child of a parvenu.
And there was something in the surroundings to affect her fancy. She saw this man, Mr Swinton, whom she had hitherto treated slightingly, now in the midst of his own friends, behaving handsomely, and treated with respect. Such friends, too! all bearing titles—all accomplished—two of them beautiful women, who appeared not only intimate with, but complaisant toward him!