Léonie tucked her hand in his arm, and gave a little sigh.
‘Monseigneur, let us go, and leave Lady Fanny, and Rupert. I do not want them.’
‘Very well, infant.’ Avon beckoned to Rupert across the room, and when he came to them, said languidly: ‘I am taking the child home, Rupert. Oblige me by waiting to escort Fanny.’
‘I’ll take Léonie home,’ offered Rupert with alacrity. ‘Fanny won’t come away for hours!’
‘That is why I am leaving you to look to her,’ said his Grace. ‘Come, ma fille.’
He took Léonie home in his light town chaise, and during the short drive she forced herself to talk gaily of the rout they had left, of this man and that, and a thousand other trivialities. Arrived at the Hôtel Avon she went at once to the library. His Grace followed.
‘Well, ma mie, what now?’
‘Now it is just as it used to be,’ Léonie said wistfully, and sat down on a low stool beside the Duke’s chair.
His Grace poured out a glass of wine, and looked down at Léonie with a questioning lift to his brows.
Léonie clasped her hands about her knees, and stared deep into the fire.
‘Monseigneur, the Duc de Penthièvre was there to-night.’
‘As I saw, infant.’
‘You do not mind him, Monseigneur?’
‘Not at all, infant. Why should I?’
‘Well, Monseigneur, he is not – he is not well-born, is he?’
‘On the contrary, child, his father was a royal bastard, and his mother a de Noailles.’
‘That was what I meant,’ said Léonie. ‘It does not matter that his father was a bastard prince?’
‘Ma fille, since the Comte de Toulouse’s father was the King, it does not matter at all.’
‘It would matter if his father were not the King, would it not? I think it is very strange.’
‘It is the way of the world, infant. We forgive the peccadilloes of a king, but look askance on those of a commoner.’
‘Even you, Monseigneur. And – and you do not love those who are base-born.’
‘I do not, infant. I deplore the modern tendency to flaunt an indiscretion before the eyes of Society.’
Léonie nodded.
‘Yes, Monseigneur.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘M. de Saint-Vire was also there to-night.’
‘I tr
ust he did not seek to abduct you again?’ His Grace spoke flippantly.
‘No, Monseigneur. Why did he try to do it before?’
‘Doubtless because of your beaux yeux, infant.’
‘Bah, that is foolish! What was his real reason, Monseigneur?’
‘My child, you make a great mistake in thinking me omniscient. You confuse me with Hugh Davenant.’