Careless of all about him, he wandered on through the great salons until he met several people he knew, and then the evening passed quite gaily.
At last, an hour past midnight, he found himself again at Lady Marshfield’s side.
“Well,” she said as they passed into one of the small rooms then unoccupied, for the guests were already departing—“well, why have you been so long away?”
“I had no incentive to stay in England,” he said. “I find life much more amusing on the Continent, and I’m a bit of a Bohemian, you know.”
“When you are in love—eh?” she laughed.
Her words stabbed him, and he frowned.
“If I want a wife, I suppose I can find one in London,” he snapped, rather annoyed.
“But it was love which kept you in Tuscany so long,” she observed with sarcasm. “Because you love Gemma Fanetti.”
He started in surprise.
“How did you know?” he inquired.