Farquhar selected a cigar from the case. "Hm! Sure you didn't change it for him?"
A dimple flashed into her cheeks. "I may have helped a little, but not half as much as Joyce."
"That young woman is a born flirt," Lord Farquhar announced, his beard and the lower part of his face in the sudden glow of the lighted match. "Upon my word, I saw her making eyes at your highwayman the night we had him here."
There was a moment's silence before she answered. "Anybody could see that he was interested in her."
"It doesn't matter to me who interests him, but I can't have any of my wards being romantic over a Dick Turpin," he replied lightly.
She was standing in the shadow, so that he could not see the dye sweep into her cheeks.
"I'm afraid he is going to disappoint you. He's not a highwayman at all."
"Did he tell you so?"
"No. But I know it."
"Looks to me as if he might make a good one. The fellow is cool as a cucumber and afraid of nothing on two legs or four."