The Marquis watched his approach through his quizzing-glass. “Lord!” he said. “What’s the matter with you, Ju?”

Miss Marling chose to ignore this. She sprang up as Mr. Comyn reached them, and laid her hand on his arm. “Frederick, I have told my cousin all!” she said dramatically. “This is my cousin, by the way. I dare say you know of him. He is very wicked and kills people in duels. Vidal, this is Frederick.”

His lordship had risen. “You talk too much, Juliana,” he drawled. His dark eyes held a distinct menace, but his cousin remained unabashed. He exchanged bows with Mr. Comyn. “Sir, your most obedient.”

Mr. Comyn, who had blushed at his Juliana’s introduction, said that he was honoured.

“Vidal is going to write to my French aunt about you,” stated Miss Marling blithely. “She is really the only person in the family who is not shocked by him. Except me, of course.”

The Marquis caught her eye once more. Knowing that dangerous look of old, Miss Marling capitulated. “I won’t say another word,” she promised. “And you will write, will you not, dear Dominic?”

Mr. Comyn said in his grave young voice: “I think my Lord Vidal must require to know my credentials. My lord, though I am aware that I must sound like a mere adventurer, I can assure you it is no such thing. My family is well known in the West of England, and my Lord Carlisle will speak for me at need.”

“Good God, sir! I’m not the girl’s guardian!” said his lordship. “You had better address all this to her brother.”

Mr. Comyn and Miss Marling exchanged rueful glances.

“Mr. Marling and Lady Fanny can hardly be unaware of my estate, sir, but — but in short I cannot flatter myself that they look upon my suit with any favour.”