LORD OF MANY SECRETS

TWENTY THREE

The rooms were spacious, but not splendid. The refreshments, which consisted of tea, orgeat, and lemonade, with cakes and bread and butter, struck Miss Tellaro as being on the meagre side. Dancing, and not cards, was the object of the club. No high stakes were allowed, so that the cards room contained only the dowagers, and such moderate gentlemen as were content to play whist for six penny points.

Lady Jeremy, Princess Mary, and Countess Levre were the only patronesses present. The Austrian ambassador's wife was a little roundabout lady of great vivacity. Countess Levre, reputed to be the best dressed and most knowledgeable lady in Rome, looked to be clever, and almost as proud as Mrs Drummond Burrell. Neither she nor the Princess were acquainted with Mrs Andromeda, and beyond staring with the peculiar rudeness of the well-bred at Miss Tellaro, she at least took no further interest in her. The Princess went so far as to demand of her partner, Sir Henry Movas, who the Golden Rod might be, and upon hearing her name, laughed, and said rather audibly, "oh, Mr Cliff's Milk maid!"

It was left for Lady Jeremy to come forward, which indeed she did, as soon as she perceived the new arrivals. Several persons were presented to Miss Tellaro, and she presently found herself going down the dance with Lord Howard, her ladyship's son.

She had not heard Princess Mary's comment, but she had caught the expressive look that went with it. There was an angry lump in her throat, her eyes was more than usual brilliant. She looked magnificent, but so stern that she put Lord Howard in a panic. The sight of Mr John Cliff in conversation with a lady by one of the windows did nothing to soften Miss Tellaro's mood. Lord Howard felt nothing but relief when the dance came to an end, and having led her to a chair against the wall escaped on the pretext of procuring a glass of lemonade for her.

It still lacked ten minutes to eleven, but although people were continuing to arrive, there was no sign of Patrick. Elizabeth guessed him to be only too glad of an excuse not to come, for he did not care to dance, but she had never felt more lonely in her life, and hoped every moment to see him walk in.

Mrs Andromeda, having met with several of her friends, was deep in conversation, but broke off suddenly to dart up to her charge. "Mr Alexandra!" she hissed in Elizabeth's ear. "Do pray, my love, hold yourself up, and if he should speak to you, I implore you may remember what it may mean!"

The very mention of any dandy's name was quite enough at this moment to fan Miss Tellaro's wrath to a flame. She looked anything but conciliating, and when she turned her eyes to the door and observed the gentleman who had just entered, an expression of undisguised contempt swept over her face.

A lady in a purple turban adorned with an aigrette bore down upon Mrs Andromeda, and drew her aside with so much condescension that Elizabeth would hardly have been surprised to learn that it was Queen Cassandra herself. She turned away to enjoy to the full her first sight of Mr Steve Bryant Alexandra.

She could scarcely forbear to laugh, for surely there could be no greater figure of fun. He stood poised for a moment in the doorway, a veritable puppet, tricked out in such fine clothes that he cast the two gentlemen who were entering behind him in the shade. It could not be better. From his green satin coat, to his ridiculously high heeled shoes, he was just what she had expected him to be. His conceit, evidently, was unbounded. He surveyed the room through his quizzing glass, held at least a foot away from his eyes, and went mincing up to Princess Mary, and made her a flourishing bow.

Elizabeth could not take her eyes from him. He was not looking her way, so she might permit herself to smile. Indeed, the wrath had died out of her face, and given place to a twinkling merriment. So this was the king it fashion!

She was recalled to a sense of her surroundings by a quiet voice at her elbow. "I beg your pardon, ma'am. I think you have dropped your fan?"

She turned with a start to find that a gentleman whom she recognized as one of the two who had entered behind the Beau was standing beside her, with her fan in his hand.

She took it with a word of thanks, and one is her clear, appraising looks. She liked what she saw. The gentleman was of medium height, with light brown hair brushed à la Brutus, and a countenance which, without being precisely handsome, was generally pleasing and glowing. There was a good deal of humor about his mouth, and his eyes, which were grey and remarkably intelligent, were set under a pair of most expensive brows. He was very well dressed, but so unobtrusively that Elizabeth would have found it difficult to put a description to what he was wearing.

He returned her look with something of drollery in his eyes. "It is Miss Tellaro, is it not?" he asked.

She noticed that his voice was particularly good, and his manner quiet and unassuming. She said with decided friendliness, "yes, I am Miss Tellaro, sir. I don't know how you should recognize me though, for I think we have not met, have we?"

"No, I have been out of town this week", he replied. "I should have called, of course. Your guardian is a friend of mine".

This circumstance was hardly a credential in Miss Tellaro's opinion, but she merely said, "you are very good, sir. But how come you to know me?"

"You have been described to me, Miss Tellaro. I could not mistake".

A flush gradually overtook her cheeks. She raised her eyes and looked very steadily at him. "By Mr Cliff, perhaps, sir?"