‘Judith says it is a sort no gentleman of taste could use,’ complained Peregrine. ‘If you think that I suppose I had better throw it all away, for I daresay Petersham was only wishing to be civil.’
‘Miss Taverner is prejudiced against scented snuffs,’ replied the Earl. ‘You need not be afraid of using this sort.’
‘Well, I am glad of that,’ said Peregrine. ‘You know, I have a whole jar of it at home, and it would be a pity to waste it.’
‘Certainly. But I hope you keep your jar in a warm room?’
‘Oh, it is in my dressing-room! I do not keep a great deal of snuff, you know. I do not have a room for it, as you do. In general, I buy it as I need it, and keep it where it may be handy.’
The Earl returned some indifferent answer, and soon left the room in search of Judith. He found her presently in the library, choosing a volume from the shelves. She looked over her shoulder when he came in, coloured faintly, but said in a calm voice: ‘You have such an excellent library: I daresay many thousands of volumes. At Beverley we are sadly lacking in that respect. It is a great luxury to find oneself in a library as well stocked as this.’
‘My library is honoured, Miss Taverner,’ he answered briefly.
She could not but be aware of the gravity in both face and voice. He was looking stern; there was something of reserve in his tone, quite different from the easy, open manner she was growing used to in him. She hesitated, and then turned more completely towards him, and said with an air of frank resolution: ‘I am afraid there may be some misconstruction. I have been indulging an absurd flight of fancy, as I believe you may have heard when you came into the saloon just now.’
He did not answer immediately, and when he did at last speak it was with considerable dryness. ‘I think, Miss Taverner, you will be well advised not to repeat to anyone that you believe Peregrine’s indisposition to be due to the effect of poison.’
Her colour mounted; she hung down her head. ‘I have been very foolish. Indeed, I do not know what possessed me to blurt out so stupid a suggestion! I have been worried about him. That duel, which, thank God! was stopped, took such strong possession of my mind that I have not been easy ever since. It seemed so wanton, so senseless! Then you must know that he was attacked upon his way home from St Albans, and escaped by the veriest miracle. I cannot rid myself of the fear that some danger threatens him. This indisposition seemed, in the agitation of the moment, to bear out my suspicion, and without pausing to consider I spoke the thought that darted through my head. I was wrong, extremely foolish, and I acknowledge it.’
He came towards her. ‘Are you worried about Peregrine? You need not be.’
‘I cannot help myself. If I thought that my suspicions had in them the least vestige of truth I think I should be quite out of my mind with terror.’
‘In that case,’ said his lordship deliberately, ‘it is as well that there can be no truth in them. I have no doubt of Peregrine’s being speedily restored to health. As for his rather absurd duel, and his encounter on Finchley Common, such things may befall anyone. I counsel you to put them out of your mind.’
‘My cousin did not take so light a view,’ she said in a low voice.
She saw his face harden. ‘Have you discussed this matter with Mr Bernard Taverner?’ he asked sharply.
‘Yes, certainly I have. Why should I not?’
‘I could tell you several good reasons. I shall be obliged to you, Miss Taverner, if you will remember that whatever your relationship with that gentleman may be, it is I who am your guardian, and not he.’
‘I do not forget it.’
‘Excuse me, Miss Taverner, you forget it every time you bestow on him confidences which he has done nothing to deserve.’
She faced him with a dawning anger in her eyes. ‘Is not this a little petty, Lord Worth?’
A sardonic smile curled his lips. ‘I see. I am jealous, I suppose? My good girl, your conquests have mounted to your head. You are not the only pretty female I have kissed!’
Her breasts rose and fell quickly. ‘You are insufferable!’ she said. ‘I have done nothing to deserve such an insult from you!’
‘If we are to talk of insults,’ said the Earl grimly, ‘you will come off very much the worst from that encounter. The insult of informing you that I am not a suitor to your hand is hardly comparable to the insult of ascribing to me jealousy of such a person as Mr Bernard Taverner.’
‘I am very happy to think that you are not my suitor!’
flashed Judith. ‘I can conceive of nothing more odious!’
‘There are times,’ said the Earl, ‘when, if I were in the habit of uttering exaggerated statements, I could almost echo that sentiment. Do not look daggers at me: I am wholly impervious to displays of that kind. Your tantrums may do very well at home, but they arouse in me nothing more than a desire to beat you soundly. And that, Miss Taverner, if ever I do marry you, is precisely what I shall do.’
Miss Taverner fought for breath. ‘If ever you – Oh, if I were but a man!’
‘A more stupid remark I have yet to hear you make,’ commented his lordship. ‘If you were a man this conversation would not be taking place.’
Miss Taverner, failing to find words with which to answer him, swung round on her heel, and began to pace about the room in a hasty manner that spoke more clearly than any words the agitation of her spirits.
The Earl leaned his shoulders against the bookshelves, and stood with folded arms, observing her perambulations. As he watched her the anger died out of his eyes; his mouth which had been set in a straight line relaxed; and he began to look merely amused. After a few minutes he spoke, saying in his usual calm way: ‘Do not be striding about the room any longer, Miss Taverner. You look magnificent, but it is a waste of energy. I will apologise for the whole.’