‘But to return, mon ami !’ My lady clasped her hands in her lap. ‘Society adopts you, then, in spite of all?’
‘Again you observe the subtlety of my methods! Consider, my Thérèse! Consider how I become one of the select circle! It is fitting. I am at last in my proper milieu.’ He looked kindly at his daughter. ‘I shall carry you with me, my child. Have no fear. You shall be established – you and Robin.’ He became aware of Robin’s absence. ‘But where is my son? Where is the beautiful Miss Merriot?’ he demanded.
‘The rogue’s gone off to sit with his lady love,’ answered Prudence.
He looked incredulous. ‘You tell me he entrusts his secret to a woman? No, no, do not say so, my daughter! Robin is my son, and he has sense – a little.’
‘I don’t say it, sir. The lady knows naught. Robin – heigh ho, he must needs fall for a pair of brown eyes!’ She told him of the encounter with Miss Letty and Mr Markham on the road to Gretna Green.
He was pleased to approve. ‘I embrace you, my child. The hilt to the chin! Myself or Robin taught you that trick. You do me credit, enfin ! I permit myself to take pride in you. Who is the lady? Eh, but the little Robin inherits something of my disposition!’
‘It’s a Miss Grayson, sir, and an heiress as I belie
ve. A pretty brown-eyed chit.’
The old gentleman’s eyes became intent. ‘Grayson?’ he repeated. ‘Grayson, my daughter?’
‘Do you know the name, sir?’
He put the tips of his fingers together and gazed abstractedly before him. There was no reading what lay in his mind. ‘Grayson!’ he said softly.
‘You know something of Sir Humphrey, sir?’
His remarkable eyes travelled to her face. ‘My child, there are few people of whom I do not know something,’ he announced, and took his stately leave of them.
Prudence saw no necessity to mention the matter to her brother, but to John, whom she found arranging pots of powder and paint in Robin’s chamber, she said: ‘The old gentleman’s mysterious over Miss Grayson, John. Is Sir Humphrey a friend of his boyhood?’
John could not take it upon himself to answer.
‘Ay, you know more than you’ll admit, don’t you?’ said Prudence.
John set down one of the pots with a snap. ‘I’ll say this, Miss Prue: I don’t understand the game he’s playing now!’
‘Why, when have any of us understood him?’
The man compressed his lips, and seemed to regret his outburst. He could vouchsafe no more.
Robin came in a while later, a vision in cherry stripes, and a lace fichu. ‘The Markham hangs about Letty still,’ he said abruptly. ‘She meets him at houses here and there. I’m to gather he tries to ingratiate himself once more.’
Prudence raised her brows. ‘She’s ill-watched then,’ she said.
‘As to that, the aunt plays euchre, and it’s supposed none but the most reputable have admission to these private parties. He’s all conciliation from what she says.’
‘Lord, has she a mind to play the fool again?’
Robin looked scornful. ‘Oh, is it a jest?’
‘One of your own, child. I take a leaf from your book.’ She laughed. ‘Or does she dream of the Black Domino?’
‘God knows. The Markham has no hope of her now.’
‘A persistent gentleman, faith.’
‘I take it the man goes in danger of a debtor’s prison. He’s deeply involved, as I hear, but was used to hang upon Rensley. Now, if the old gentleman ousts Rensley, he’ll have need of a fresh patron, or a rich bride. It’s a dangerous dog.’
He had set his finger on the very marrow of it. Mr Markham saw himself in some need of relief. The turf played him false, and the cards went badly. It seemed to him that his noble friend’s sun was setting fast: Mr Rensley had that day been informed by a grave man of law that no fault could be found with my Lord Barham’s papers. If it could not be proved that my lord had stolen them from the real owner he must stand acknowledged Tremaine of Barham. There was, then, an end to a profitable friendship. Mr Markham had small hope of a happy issue. Mr Rensley, in a moment of impetuosity, had named the sum he would be glad to give the man who should prove my lord an impostor, but although Mr Markham would be willing to perform that office for him he could not at present see the means of doing it.
His recollection of the gaming-house at Munich had led nowhere. Mr Rensley had had some biting words to say of it. Mr Rensley was in a very bad temper over the whole affair, and his manner to his friend was such that Mr Markham began to conceive a positive dislike for him.