“Completely! I would not have believed it could be! You are to be congratulated, Alastair.”
“Why, so I think,” said the Duke.
Léonie made a quaint little bow.
“Sometimes, m’sieur, I am still Léon.”
“Ay, that is Léon,” Hugh smiled. “Do you like being Léonie?”
“At first it did not please me at all,” she answered. “But now I think it is very agreeable. You have pretty things if you are a girl, and go to balls. There is to be a ball here next week, m’sieur.”
“So I hear,” he said. “Who comes to it?”
They sat down again at the table, Davenant opposite Léonie. It was Fanny who answered.
“Everyone, Hugh, I give you my word! ’Pon rep, I have worked over this ball!”
“Ay, and made the house a veritable wasps’ nest,” grumbled Rupert. “How are you, Hugh?”
“The same as ever, Rupert. And you?”
“Well enough,” Rupert said. “We’re all of us reformed, as you see. Never was there such a united family, and all of us so amiable one to the other—God knows how long ’twill last!”
Davenant laughed across the table at Marling.
“I learn that I am to bear you company in this disreputable establishment, Marling!”
“We are invited to supply a note of sobriety,” nodded Marling. “It was Léonie’s notion. How did you leave your brother?”
“As long as you did leave him, Hugh, I’m satisfied,” grimaced Rupert.
“Ah yes!” said his Grace. “The deplorable Frederick! How does he?”
“Oh, there never was a man so tedious as Colehatch!” cried my lady. “Only fancy, Hugh, he loved me once! The great Lord Colehatch. La! I should be honoured!”
“He is just as deplorable as ever, I fear,” Hugh replied. “He was not pleased to hear that I intended to visit this house again.”
“Lord, did he want you, Fan?” exclaimed Rupert. “Well, I always knew the man was a fool.”
“I thank you, my lord!” Davenant made him a mock bow. “You are all of you vastly complimentary towards my respected brother.”
“Oh, and to me!” said my lady. “Horrid boy! Do you remember that Colehatch wanted me, Justin?”
“My memory fails me when I try to disentangle your suitors, my dear. Was he the one who demanded you of me with a pistol to my head, as it were? No, I believe that was Fonteroy. Colehatch, I think, wrote me a correct application for your hand which I still cherish. He said that he was willing to overlook such trifling faults in you, my dear, as your levity and your extravagance.”
“Fanny, I make you my apologies on his behalf!” laughed Hugh.
Marling helped himself to a peach.
“What an ardent lover!” he remarked. “I hope I did not say that I would overlook your faults?”
“Dearest Edward, you said that you adored me from my heels to my topmost curl!” sighed her ladyship. “Lud, what days they were! Cumming—dear soul—fought John Drew because he disparaged my eyebrows, and Vane—do you remember Vane, Justin?—wanted to fly with me!”
Léonie was greatly interested.
“And did you?” she inquired.
“La, child, what will you ask next? He had not a penny, poor darling, and was mad into the bargain.”
“I should like people to fight over me,” Léonie said. “With swords.”
Davenant was amused.
“Would you, Léon—Léonie!”
“But yes, m’sieur! It would be so exciting. Did you see them fight, madame?”
“Good gracious no, child! Of course I did not. One never does.”
“Oh!” Léonie was disappointed. “I thought you watched.”
Davenant looked at the Duke.
“The lady would appear to have a taste for bloodshed,” he remarked.
“A veritable passion for it, my dear. Nothing pleases her more.”
“You are not to encourage her, Justin!” said my lady. “I vow it’s scandalous!”
Léonie twinkled merrily.
“There is one thing I made Monseigneur teach me that is very bloodthirsty,” she said. “You do not know!”
“What is it, puss?”
“Aha, I will not tell!” She shook her head wisely. “You would say it is unladylike.”
“Oh, Justin, what have you been at? Some hoydenish trick it is, I dare swear!”
“Tell us!” said Marling. “You’ve whetted our curiosity, child, and soon we shall begin to guess.”
“Ecod, do you mean—” began Rupert.
Léonie waved agitated hands.
“No, no, imbécile! Tais toi!” She pursed her mouth primly. “M. Marling would be shocked, and madame would say it is not at all respectable. Monseigneur, he is not to tell!”
“One would infer that it was some disgraceful secret,” said his Grace. “I believe I have several times requested you not to call Rupert imbécile, infant.”
“But Monseigneur, he is an imbécile!” she protested. “You know he is!”
“Undoubtedly, ma fille, but I do not tell the whole world so.”
“Then I do not know what I am to call him,” said Léonie. “He calls me spitfire, Monseigneur, and wildcat.”
“And so she is, by Gad!” exclaimed his lordship.
“I am not, Rupert. I am a lady. Monseigneur says so.”
“A manifestly false assertion,” said his Grace. “But I cannot remember ever having said anything of the kind, infant.”
She peeped naughtily up at him, through her lashes. It was one of her most captivating little tricks.
“But, Monseigneur, you said only a minute ago that your memory is not at all good.”
There was a shout of laughter; Avon’s own eyes were alight with it. He picked up his fan and dealt Léonie a rap across the knuckles. She chuckled, and turned jubilantly to the others.
“Voyons, I have made you all laugh!” she said. “And I meant to make you laugh! I am a wit, enfin!”
Davenant was looking at Avon, dawning wonder on his face, for Avon’s eyes rested on his ward with such tender amusement in them that Davenant could hardly believe it was the Duke that he looked on.
“Oh, lud, what a child it is!” said my lady, dabbing at her eyes. “I vow I would never have dared speak so to Justin at your age!”
“Nor I!” said Rupert. “But there’s nothing she won’t dare, damme, there’s not!” He turned to Davenant. “Never was there such a girl, Hugh! Do you know she’s even been abducted?”
“Abducted?” Davenant looked round, half-incredulous. “What’s this?”
“Oh, that pig-person!” said Léonie scornfully.
“My
