
And his Aunt Sophronsia, of whom he was marginally fond, had made it clear to him from the outset that she refused to do more than be decently civil to Megan if they should happen to meet in public. In that lady's view, he was doing both Megan and Society an injustice by elevating the child above the lowly station to which her blood condemned her. As she was fond of saying, a lady is born, not made; providing Megan with the education and other accouterments of lady hood was of no more use than giving a mongrel a poodle's clip.
It had been forcibly impressed on Justin-by Stanton, of course, who had conceived a fondness for the girl-that Megan must soon be liberated from the schoolroom. As a young lady rejoicing in the dignity of her seventeenth year, and the Earl of Weston's ward to boot, she would have to have a come-out in the near future. The mere thought made Justin wince. He had a lively dread of being forced to guide a rag-mannered, high-spirited, disobedient minx through the pitfalls of a London season practically single-handed. His female relations would be no help. So be it. The little wretch's latest escapade had sparked in him a determination to bring the girl to heel while it was still possible to do so.
