“Need my brother wed the woman because he calls upon her name?” she mocked.
“If I know my lord your brother, he might well wed her even because he need not,” smiled the other. “Now you are warned. ’Tis none of my concern, I thank my Providence! You will be saved a dairymaid at least.”
Alethea’s wavering color, her flurried breath, bore witness to discomposure.
“My Lord Blantyre,” pursued Lady Julia Majendie, relentlessly, “has ever taken pleasure in astonishing the world.”
Lady Alethea clinched her hands.
“Your father rules here; let him transport the slut!”
“Nay,” said Julia. She placed her hand upon the heaving shoulder, and looked at her friend with a singular light in her pale yet brilliant eyes. “Do you think to break a man of a fancy by such measures? ’Twould be as good as forging the ring. Nay, my sweet, I can better help thee; ay, and give thee an hour’s sport besides.”
And, as Alethea raised questioning eyes, Julia Majendie shook her silver-fair ringlets and laughed again.
“Leave it to me,” quoth she.
* * * * *