The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth CenturyHeyer, Georgette
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The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century
Heyer, Georgette
Aristocracy (Social class) -- England -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Regency fiction
The lawyer stared and stared again, and it was not until a pair of deep
blue, rather wistful eyes met his in a quizzical glance, that he found
his tongue. Then a look of astonishment came into his face, and he took
a half step forward.
"Master Jack!" he gasped. "Master--_Jack_!"
The elegant gentleman came forward and held up a reproving hand. The
patch at the corner of his mouth quivered, and the blue eyes danced.
"I perceive that you are not acquainted with me, Mr. Warburton," he
said, amusement in his pleasant, slightly drawling voice. "Allow me to
present myself: Sir Anthony Ferndale, _a vous servir_!"
A gleam of humour appeared in the lawyer's own eyes as he clasped the
outstretched hand.
"I think you are perhaps not acquainted with yourself, my lord," he
remarked drily.
Lord John laid his hat and cane on the small table, and looked faintly
intrigued.
"What's your meaning, Mr. Warburton?"
"I am come, my lord, to inform you that the Earl, your father, died a
month since."
The blue eyes widened, grew of a sudden hard, and narrowed again.
"Is that really so? Well, well! Apoplexy, I make no doubt?"
The lawyer's lips twitched uncontrollably.
"No, Master Jack; my lord died of heart failure."
"Say you so? Dear me! But will you not be seated, sir? In a moment my
servant will have induced the _chef_ to serve dinner. You will honour
me, I trust?"
The lawyer murmured his thanks and sat down on the settle, watching the
other with puzzled eyes.
The Earl drew up a chair for himself and stretched his foot to the fire.
"Six years, eh? I protest 'tis prodigious good to see your face again,
Mr. Warburton.... And I'm the Earl? Earl and High Toby, by Gad!" He
laughed softly.
"I have here the documents, my lord...."
Carstares eyed the roll through his quizzing glass.
"I perceive them. Pray return them to your pocket, Mr. Warburton."
"But there are certain legal formalities, my lord--"
"Exactly. Pray do not let us mention them!"
"But, sir!"
Then the Earl smiled, and his smile was singularly sweet and winning.
"At least, not until after dinner, Warburton! Instead, you shall tell me
how you found me?"
"Mr. Richard directed me where to come, sir."
"Ah, of course! I had forgot that I told him my--_pied-à-terre_ when I
waylaid him."
The lawyer nearly shuddered at this cheerful, barefaced mention of his
lordship's disreputable profession.
"Er--indeed, sir. Mr. Richard is eager for you to return."
The handsome young face clouded over. My lord shook his head.
"Impossible, my dear Warburton. I am convinced Dick never voiced so
foolish a suggestion. Come now, confess! 'tis your own fabrication?"
Warburton ignored the bantering tone and spoke very deliberately.
"At all events, my lord, I believe him anxious to make--amends."
Carstares shot an alert, suspicious glance at him.
"Ah!"
"Yes, sir. Amends."
My lord studied his emerald with half-closed eyelids.
"But why--amends, Warburton?" he asked.
"Is not that the word, sir?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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