d snubbed him quite successfully when you intervened.’
‘Oh well, of course, he should not have broken in on the table as he did,’ admitted Alvanley. ‘But he’s very young, after all, and quite a nice boy, from what I have seen.’
‘Quite,’ said Worth. ‘He will be still nicer when he has been snubbed a few more times. George, you might attend to it.’
Mr Brummell shook his head. ‘My dear Worth, you really cannot expect me to do any more for your ward. Why, I once gave him my arm all the way here from White’s!’
‘Ah, perhaps that may account for his presumption,’ said Worth. ‘You had better have given him one of your cuts.’
‘But I thought you wanted me to do what I could to bring him into fashion,’ said the Beau plaintively.
Whether from a natural impatience, or from a fear of once more missing his guardian, Peregrine was in Cavendish Square by half-past ten next morning, only to be informed that his lordship was dressing. He had nothing to do, therefore, but to kick his heels in the saloon for half an hour, skim through the newspaper, and silently rehearse all he meant presently to say.
At eleven o’clock the footman came back, and informed him that his lordship would receive him. He followed the man up the broad stairway, and was ushered into the Earl’s bedroom. This was a large apartment with a canopy bed occupying the whole of one wall. It was an extremely fine piece, supported by two bronze gryphons, and with crimson silk hangings caught up by a pair of smaller gryphons on pedestals. A fifth gryphon surmounted the canopy with its wings spread ready for flight, and all the hangings depending apparently from its claws. Peregrine was so much struck by the splendour of this edifice that for some moments he could only stand and gaze at it.
The Earl, who was seated before a mahogany dressing-table with the drawer pulled out and the top pushed back to disclose a central mirror, cast him a fleeting glance, and went on attending to his toilet.
Peregrine, having taken in the bed in all its details, looked round for his guardian, and, perceiving him, blinked a little at the elegance of the brocade dressing-gown he was wearing, and wished that he could achieve the exquisite disorder of his lordship’s black locks. These were brushed into a style which Peregrine at once recognised as being au coup de vent. He himself had wasted half an hour in trying to arrange his own yellow curls in the same manner, and had had to be content in the end with a cherubim style.
‘Good morning, Peregrine. You choose a very early hour for your calls,’ said the Earl. ‘You need not wait, Foster. Stay, hand me the packet you will find on that table. Thank you; you may go.’
The valet put a chair forward for Peregrine, and went away. Peregrine sat down, looking rather uneasily at the papers the man had fetched for the Earl. He had not the least difficulty in recognising them, and blurted out: ‘Those are my I O Us, are they not?’
‘Yes,’ said the Earl. ‘Those are your I O Us. Shall we settle before we go any further?’
Peregrine fixed his eyes anxiously on that calm profile, and moistened his lips. ‘Why – why, the fact of the matter is – I don’t think I can,’ he confessed. ‘I’m not perfectly certain how much I lost last night, but –’
‘Oh, not much above four thousand, I fancy,’ said the Earl.
‘Not much above – Oh! Well – well, that is not such a vast sum after all, is it?’ said Peregrine valiantly.
‘That,’ said the Earl, taking a slender knife from the open drawer, and beginning to pare his nails with it, ‘depends very largely on the size of your fortune.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Peregrine. ‘Very true. I – I have a considerable fortune, haven’t I?’
‘At the moment,’ replied Worth, ‘you have what I should rather call an independence.’
‘You mean I have what you allow me,’ said Peregrine in a dissatisfied voice.
‘I am glad to find that you realise that,’ said Worth. ‘I was beginning to be afraid that you did not.’
‘Of course I do. But the money’s there, ain’t it? It’s only a matter of advancing me some of it.’
The Earl laid the knife down, and dipped his hands in a bowl of water, placed at his elbow. Having rinsed them he began to dry them carefully on a fine napkin. ‘But I have not the least intention of advancing you any of it,’ he said.
Peregrine stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
The Earl raised his eyes for a moment, and coldly looked his ward over. ‘Between you, you and your sister credit me with an obscurity of meaning which I am unaware of having done anything to deserve. It really doesn’t amuse me. I mean precisely what I say.’
‘But you can’t refuse to let me have money to pay my debts of honour!’ said Peregrine indignantly.
‘Can’t I?’ said the Earl.‘I was under the impression that I could.’
‘Damme, I never heard of such a thing! I must pay my debts!’
‘Naturally,’ agreed the Earl.
‘Well, how the devil can I if you won’t loosen the purse-strings?’ demanded Peregrine. ‘You must know my pockets are pretty well to let till next quarter!’