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He listened to her gravely; he agreed with her that Peregrine was living at too furious a rate, but said gently: ‘You know I would do anything in my power for you. I have seen all you describe, and been sorry for it, and wondered that Lord Worth should not intervene.’

She turned her eyes upon him. ‘Could not you?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘I have no right, cousin. Do you think Perry would attend to me? I am sure he would not. He would write me down a dull fellow, and be done with me. It is –’ he hesitated. ‘May I speak plainly?’

‘I wish you would.’

‘Then I will say that I think it is for Lord Worth to exert his authority. He alone has the right.’

‘It was Lord Worth who put Perry’s name up for Watier’s,’ said Judith bitterly. ‘I was glad at first, but I did not know that it was all gaming there. It was he who took him to that horrid tavern they call Cribb’s Parlour, where he meets all the prize-fighters he is for ever talking about.’

Mr Taverner was silent for a moment. He said at length: ‘I did not know. Yet he could hardly be blamed: it is his own world, and the one Perry was all eagerness to enter. Lord Worth is himself a gamester, a very notable Corinthian. He is of the Carlton House set. It may be that he is not concerning himself very closely with Perry’s doings. Speak to him, Judith: he must attend to you.’

‘Why do you say that?’ she asked, frowning.

‘Pardon me, my dear cousin, it has seemed to me sometimes that his lordship betrays a certain partiality – I will say no more.’

‘Oh no!’ she said, with strong revulsion. ‘You are mistaken. Such a notion is unthinkable.’

He made a movement as though he would have taken her hand, but controlled it, and said with an earnest look: ‘I am glad.’

‘You have something against him?’ she said quickly.

‘Nothing. If I was afraid – if I disliked the thought that there might be some partiality, you must forgive me. I could not help myself. But I have said too much. Speak to Lord Worth of Perry. Surely he cannot want him to be growing wild!’

She was a good deal stirred by this speech, and by the look that went with it. She was not displeased: she liked him too well; but she wished him to say no more. A declaration seemed to be imminent; she was thankful that he did not make it. She did not know her own heart.

His advice was too sensible to be lightly ignored. She thought about it, realised the justice of what he had said, and went to call on Worth, driving herself in her phaeton. To request his coming to Brook Street would mean the presence of Mrs Scattergood; she supposed there could be no impropriety in a ward’s visiting her guardian.

She was ushered into the saloon, but after a few minutes the footman came back, and desired her to follow him. She was conducted up one pair of stairs to his lordship’s private room, and announced. The Earl was standing at a table by the window, dipping a sort of iron skewer into what looked to be a wine-bottle. On the table were several sheets of parchment, a sieve, two glass phials, and a pestle and mortar of turned boxwood.

Miss Taverner stared in considerable surprise, being quite unable to imagine what the Earl could be doing. The room was lined with shelves that bore any number of highly glazed jars and lead canisters. They were all labelled, with such queer-sounding names as Scholten, Curaçao, Masulipatam, Bureau Demi-gros, Bolongaro, Old Paris. She turned her eyes inquiringly towards his lordship, still absorbed in his bottle and skewer.

‘You must forgive me for receiving you here, Miss Taverner, but I am extremely occupied,’ he said. ‘It would be fatal for me to leave the mixture in its present state, or I would have come to you. Have you left Maria Scattergood downstairs, may I ask?’

‘She is not with me. I came alone, sir.’

There seemed to be a fine powder in the wine-bottle. The Earl had extracted a little with the aid of the skewer and dropped it into the mortar, and had begun to mix it with what was already there, but he paused at Miss Taverner’s words, and looked across at her in a way hard to read.Then his gaze returned to the mortar, and he went on with his work. ‘Indeed? You honour me. Will y

ou not sit down?’

She coloured faintly, but drew forward a chair. ‘Perhaps you may think it odd in me, sir, but the truth is I have something to say to you I do not care to say before Mrs Scattergood.’

‘I am entirely at your service, Miss Taverner.’

She pulled off her gloves and began smoothing them. ‘It is with considerable reluctance that I have come, Lord Worth. But my cousin, Mr Taverner, advised me – and I cannot but feel that he was right.You are after all our guardian.’

‘Proceed, my ward. Has Wellesley Poole made you an offer of marriage?’

‘Good heavens, no!’ said Judith.

‘He will,’ said his lordship coolly.

‘I have not come about my own affairs, sir. I desire to talk to you of Peregrine.’

‘Life is full of disappointments,’ commented Worth. ‘Which spunging house is he in?’

‘He is not in any,’ said Judith stiffly. ‘Though I have little doubt that that is where he will end if something is not done to prevent him.’


Tags: Georgette Heyer Alastair-Audley Tetralogy Romance