Dinner was announced, and they went into the adjoining room. The Comte shook out his napkin.
‘You live in most charming country, madame. The woods here are superb.’
‘They are finer about Avon Court,’ said Anthony. ‘There are some splendid oaks there.’
‘Ah, Avon! I am desolated to hear that the Duc is away. I hoped – but it is not to be.’
In the recesses of Merivale’s brain memory stirred. Surely there had been some scandal, many years ago?
‘No, Avon, I believe, is in London. Lord Rupert is staying with us – he is at the Court now, dining with Madam Field, and Mademoiselle de Bonnard, the Duke’s ward.’
Saint-Vire’s hand, holding the wine-glass, shook a little.
‘Mademoiselle de – ?’
‘Bonnard. You knew that Avon had adopted a daughter?’
‘I heard some rumour,’ the Comte said slowly. ‘So she is here?’
‘For a time only. She is to be presented soon, I think.’
‘Vraiment? ’ The Comte sipped his wine. ‘No doubt she is ennuyée here.’
‘I think she is well enough,’ Merivale answered. ‘There is much to amuse her at Avon. She and that scamp, Rupert, have taken to playing at hide-and-seek in the woods. They are naught but a pair of children!’
‘Aha?’ Saint-Vire slightly inclined his head. ‘And the Duc is, you say, in London?’
‘I cannot say for sure. None ever knows where he will be next. Léonie expects him daily, I think.’
‘I am sorry to have missed him,’ said Saint-Vire mechanically.
After dinner he and Merivale played at piquet together, and soon Rupert came striding in, and stopped dead upon the threshold at sight of the visitor.
‘Thun – Your very devoted, Comte,’ he said stiffly, and stalked over to where Jennifer was seated. ‘What’s that fellow doing here?’ he growled in her ear.
She laid a finger on her lips.
‘The Comte was just saying that he is sorry to have missed seeing your – your brother, Rupert,’ she said clearly.
Rupert stared at Saint-Vire.
‘Eh? Oh, ay! My brother will be heartbroken, I assure you, sir. Did you come to pay him a visit?’
A muscle quivered beside the Comte’s heavy mouth.
‘No, milor’. I am on my way to visit friends. I thought maybe to see M. le Duc on my way.’
‘Pray let me be the bearer of any message you may wish to send him, sir,’ said Rupert.
‘Cela ne vaut pas la peine, m’sieur,’ said the Comte politely.
No sooner had he taken his leave of them than Rupert scowled upon his host.
‘Devil take you, Tony, why did you ask that fellow here? What’s he doing in England? ’Pon my soul, it’s too bad that I should have to meet him, and be civil!’
‘I noticed no civility,’ remarked Merivale. ‘Was there some quarrel between him and Alastair?’
‘Quarrel! He’s our worst enemy, my dear! He insulted the name! I give you my word he did! What, don’t you know? He hates us like the devil! Tried to horse-whip Justin years ago.’