Adrian accompanied her as far as the door, where he was obliged to leave her to transact some business of his own.
She mounted the stairs to the office, swung open the door, entered, and found herself face to face with Lord Dunforth!
He did not recognize her, for he had only seen her once while she was at the castle, and he could not associate this elegantly clad, blooming woman, with the pale, black-robed figure, who had been so attentive to Lady Ruxley’s wants.
At all events, he thought her wondrously beautiful now, and wondered who she could be.
Brownie knew him instantly, and the rich color flew to her cheek, but she did not lose an atom of her self-possession.
Her manner was perfect, her language, as she conversed with the lawyers, was choice and fluent, while the little hand with which she signed the documents they placed before her, was white, and soft, and tapering—“a sure sign of a lady,” his lordship, who was watching from behind his paper, said to himself.
“A remarkably lovely woman that,” Mr. Capel said to him, after Brownie’s departure.
“She is, indeed. Who is she?”
“She is heiress to the property of Sir Edgar Douglas, who died so suddenly a couple of weeks since.”
“Ah, yes! I heard that he left no heir. That was a sad circumstance.”