‘What roses?’ Jack demanded.

‘Yours. The ones she carried!’

‘They were not mine!’ Jack said, his eyes kindling. ‘By Jupiter, Tom, I have a mind to call you out for thinking I would serve you such a backhanded turn! It passes everything, so it does!’

‘Not yours?’ ejaculated Tom.

Sir Gavin coughed deprecatingly. ‘If you refer to the roses Miss Treen carried last night, they were mine!’ They stared at him. ‘I hope you will not both call me out,’ he said, ‘but the fact is that Miss Treen has done me the honour to become my affianced wife. Our betrothal was announced at supper last night.’

This was shocking news. Each unsuccessful suitor tried to realize that his life was blighted, and failed. Tom said, with dignity: ‘You might have told us so last night, sir!’

‘I might, of course, but I had the oddest notion that it wouldn’t have been of the least avail,’ confessed Sir Gavin.

They thought this over. A reluctant grin overset Tom’s dignity. ‘Well, perhaps not,’ he conceded.

Jack executed his best bow. ‘We must beg leave to wish you happy, sir,’ he said nobly.

‘I am very much obliged to you,’ responded Sir Gavin, with great civility.

‘I suppose,’ said Tom, blushing, ‘you think we have made great cakes of ourselves, sir?’

‘Not at all,’ said Sir Gavin. ‘You have conducted yourselves with perfect propriety, and I am happy to have assisted in an affair of honour so creditable to both parties. Let us repair to the inn beyond this charming coppice, and partake of breakfast! I bespoke it half an hour ago, and I am sure it will by now be awaiting us. Besides, I do not care to keep my horses standing any longer.’

‘I should think not indeed!’ Tom exclaimed. ‘I say, sir, what a bang-up set-out it is! Real blood-and-bone!’

‘I am so glad you like them,’ said Sir Gavin. ‘Do, pray, try their paces as far as to the Rising Sun! If you will allow me, I will drive the gig.’