There was only one bowl of
violets on the table, but the bowl was gold, and a beautiful shape, and
the violets nearly as big as pansies. My eyes wandered to the
pictures--Gainsborough's and Reynolds's and Romney's--of stately men and
women.
"You met my other nephew, Lord Robert, did you not?" Lady Merrenden said,
presently. "He told me he had gone to Branches, where I believe you
lived."
"Yes," I said, and--oh, it is too humiliating to write!--I felt my cheeks
get crimson at the mention of Lord Robert's name. What could she have
thought? Can anything be so young-ladylike and ridiculous!
"He came to the opera with us the night before last," I continued. "Mr.
Carruthers had a box, and Lady Verningham and I went with them." Then,
recollecting how odd this must sound in my deep mourning, I added, "I am
so fond of music."
"So is Robert," she said. "I am sure he must have been pleased to meet a
kindred spirit there."
Sweet, charming, kind lady! If she only knew what emotions were really
agitating us in that box that night! I fear the actual love of music was
the least of them.
The duke, during this conversation and from the beginning mention of Lord
Robert's name, never took his eyes off my face--it was very disconcerting;
his look was clearer now, and it was certainly disapproving.
We had coffee up-stairs, out of such exquisite Dresden cups, and then Lord
Merrenden showed me some miniatures.
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