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  The old gentleman smiled affectionately upon the assembled company. ‘Very like an encounter I had once with a Margrave,’ he said pensively. ‘I was acting as one of his lackeys at the time.’

  ‘Tare an’ ’ouns, a lackey ?’ gasped Clevedale.

  ‘Certainly,’ said my lord, with some hauteur. ‘Why not? There was a lady in the case.’ He smoothed a wrinkle from his satin sleeve. ‘She was the Margrave’s mistress,’ he remarked.

  Quite a number of people drew nearer. March thrust his arm in my lord’s, and walked away with him. ‘Let’s hear that tale, Barham,’ he said. ‘Which Margrave?’

  Fourteen

  My Lord Barham Becomes Mysterious

  The old gentleman was left undoubtedly a victor; there could be no gainsaying it. Poor Rensley came off badly from a battle of wits. The world shook its head sadly over the startling disclosures of my lord’s past history, but it was prepared to look indulgently on those shocking lapses. Had his lordship betrayed only the faintest sign of discomfiture, shown the slightest shame, the world might have decided to turn a cold shoulder on him. But my lord was far from showing either shame or discomfiture. So far, indeed, that his attitude was one of pride in his chequered career. He carried all off with a high hand. He said majestically that there was nothing he had not done, and such was the power of the man’s eye that the world began to perceive clearly that he had nothing at all to be ashamed of.

  There was also the attitude of my Lord March to be considered. March seemed to be in no doubt of the old gentleman’s identity, and there were few who cared to set themselves up in opposition to my lord. If the newcomer was good enough for March, he was certainly good enough for the rest of the world, but there were one or two far-seeing people who began to realize that the new viscount had wormed himself into the graces of society so completely, and so cleverly that it would be quite extraordinarily difficult (in the event of his claim falling to earth) to turn him out without loss of dignity to oneself.

  His lordship made not the smallest attempt to conceal his lamentable past: his attitude gave one to understand that whatever he chose to do must of necessity become straightway a creditable performance. In fact, not the lowest of vocations could demean this grand gentleman.

  It was considered then that to be sure, if one had the good fortune to be born a Tremaine one might do most things with impunity. Certainly it was a pity to have dragged that noble name in the dust, but after all one had to take into account that the old gentleman had been cast off penniless when little more than a boy. That must stand for his excuse.

  As for Rensley, his attack had been ill-judged, and he had taken many shrewder blows than he had dealt. Not a doubt of it that March was right when he said that the old gentleman had the advantage of him in good manners. A number of people remembered that they had said at the outset that there was very little breeding to Rensley, cousin to the Tremaines though he might be. Viscount or no viscount, the old gentleman had great polish, and he showed himself perfectly at ease in the politest of company.

  My lord had something to say on the matter himself when he took a dish of Bohea with my Lady Lowestoft next day. He smiled benevolently upon his daughter, leaning over the back of a couch, and said triumphantly: ‘You saw me! You, my daughter, had the privilege of seeing a master mind at work! I felicitate you.’

  Prudence gave her deep chuckle. ‘I knew a few moments’ dread, sir, I confess.’

  He brushed that aside. ‘Never again make that mistake. I am invincible. Observe the subtlety of my methods! I achieve a miracle.’

  My lady gave a piece of angel cake to the monkey nestling at her feet. ‘You told them, then, mon cher ? You admitted the past?’

  ‘They hung on my lips,’ his lordship said dramatically. ‘They waited breathlessly to hear what I would say. As always I became the centre, the dominating presence.’

  My lady twinkled. ‘And you said?’ she prompted.

  ‘I said, Thérèse, that I had kept a dozen gaming-houses. No other man alive would have dared. But I swayed them – I, Tremaine of Barham!’ His admiration of the deed held him silent for a moment, but he went on. ‘They perceived that I could play the lackey and still keep my prestige. It is true! It is very true.’

  My lady gasped. ‘And they condoned it? They supported you?’

  ‘It was not for them to condone what Tremaine might choose to do,’ said my lord, with hauteur. ‘They applaud me now. I achieve the impossible.’

  ‘He is a great man,’ my lady said to Prudence. ‘You must admit it.’

  ‘Oh, I do, ma’am, believe me.’

  My lord tapped the lid of his snuff-box with one polished finger-nail. ‘Even that large gentleman, that ponderous baronet, that sleepy-eyed Sir Anthony Fanshawe, who looked askance at me – even he concedes me admiration. I win all to my side. It could not be otherwise.’

  ‘Indeed, sir, he said he had begun to conceive a liking for you,’ nodded Prudence.

  My lord accepted this with a gracious inclination of the head.

  His daughter continued with a hint of seriousness in her tone. ‘Yet I think you would be well advised, sir, not to seek too great an intimacy with that same large gentleman.’

  ‘My Prudence, it is he, and all the rest, shall seek intimacy with me,’ his lordship said majestically.

  ‘That’s as maybe, sir, but I have some friendship with Sir Anthony, and I say beware!’

  He shook his head, but it was more in sorrow than in anger. ‘Still you do not sufficiently appreciate me,’ he said.

  ‘It’s conceivable, sir, you don’t sufficiently appreciate the large gentleman.’

  My lady smiled. ‘Ah, my cabbage, you have a too great opinion of ce gros Sir Anthony! He sees no further than the end of his nose.’

  ‘You’re mistaken, ma’am. He sees more than the rest of them put together.’ She hesitated. ‘He watches me. That I know. Something he suspects: not much, but a little.’

  My lady looked incredulous. ‘Not you, my child? But no!’

  ‘Oh, not that! Well, who lives may learn. But I’ve warned you, sir.’

  ‘The little Prudence!’ My lord smiled affably. ‘So cautious!’

  ‘You named me Prudence, sir.’

  He was inclined to suspect a hitherto unperceived foresight in himself. ‘And wisely! A premonition. I must surely have known.’

  ‘But to return, mon ami !’ My lady clasped her hands in her lap. ‘Society adopts you, then, in spite of all?’

  ‘Again you observe the subtlety of my methods! Consider, my Thérèse! Consider how I become one of the select circle! It is fitting. I am at last in my proper milieu.’ He looked kindly at his daughter. ‘I shall carry you with me, my child. Have no fear. You shall be established – you and Robin.’ He became aware of Robin’s absence. ‘But where is my son? Where is the beautiful Miss Merriot?’ he demanded.

  ‘The rogue’s gone off to sit with his lady love,’ answered Prudence.

  He looked incredulous. ‘You tell me he entrusts his secret to a woman? No, no, do not say so, my daughter! Robin is my son, and he has sense – a little.’

  ‘I don’t say it, sir. The lady knows naught. Robin – heigh ho, he must needs fall for a pair of brown eyes!’ She told him of the encounter with Miss Letty and Mr Markham on the road to Gretna Green.

  He was pleased to approve. ‘I embrace you, my child. The hilt to the chin! Myself or Robin taught you that trick. You do me credit, enfin ! I permit myself to take pride in you. Who is the lady? Eh, but the little Robin inherits something of my disposition!’

  ‘It’s a Miss Grayson, sir, and an heiress as I believe. A pretty brown-eyed chit.’

  The old gentleman’s eyes became intent. ‘Grayson?’ he repeated. ‘Grayson, my daughter?’

  ‘Do you know the name, sir?’

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