Lesbia started to her feet, pale as ashes.

’Why do you fling my grandfather’s name in my face—­and with that diabolical sneer?’ she exclaimed.  ’When I have asked you about him you have always evaded my questions.  Why should a man of the highest rank shrink from marrying Lord Maulevrier’s granddaughter?  My grandfather was a distinguished man—­Governor of Madras.  Such posts are not given to nobodies.  How can you dare to speak as if it were a disgrace to me to belong to him?’

CHAPTER XXVIII.

‘CLUBS, DIAMONDS, HEARTS, IN WILD DISORDER SEEN.’

Lady Kirkbank had considerable difficulty in smoothing Lesbia’s ruffled plumage.  She did all in her power to undo the effect of her rash words—­declared that she had been carried away by temper—­she had spoken she knew not what—­words of no meaning.  Of course Lesbia’s grandfather had been a great man—­Governor of Madras; altogether an important and celebrated person—­and Lady Kirkbank had meant nothing, could have meant nothing to his disparagement.

‘My dearest girl, I was beside myself, and talked sheer nonsense,’ said Georgie.  ’But you know really now, dearest, any woman of the world would be provoked at your foolish refusal of that dear good Smithson.  Only think of that too lovely house in Park Lane, a palace in the style of the Italian Renaissance—­such a house is in itself equivalent to a peerage—­and there is no doubt Smithson will be offered a peerage before he is much older.  I have heard it confidently asserted that when the present Ministry retires Smithson will be made a Peer.  You have no idea what a useful man he is, or what henchman’s service he has done the Ministry in financial matters.  And then there is his villa at Deauville—­you don’t know Deauville—­a positively perfect place, the villa, I mean, built by the Duke de Morny in the golden days of the Empire—­and another at Cowes, and his palace in Berkshire, a manor, my love, with a glorious old Tudor manor-house; and he has a pied a terre in Paris, in the Faubourg, a ground-floor furnished in the Pompeian style, half-a-dozen rooms opening one out of the other, and surrounding a small garden, with a fountain in the middle.  Some of the greatest people in Paris occupy the upper part of the house, and their rooms of course are splendid; but Smithson’s ground-floor is the gem of the Faubourg.  However, I suppose there is no use in talking any more; for there is the gong for luncheon.’

Lesbia was in no humour for luncheon.

‘I would rather have a cup of tea in my own room,’ she said.  ’This Smithson business has given me an abominable headache.’

‘But you will go to hear Metzikoff?’

’No, thanks.  You detest the Duchess of Lostwithiel, and you don’t care for pianoforte recitals.  Why should I drag you there?’

’But, my dearest Lesbia, I am not such a selfish wretch as to keep you at home, when I know you are passionately fond of good music.  Forget all about your headache, and let me see how that lovely little Catherine of Aragon bonnet suits you.  I’m so glad I happened to see it in Seraphine’s hands yesterday, just as she was going to send it to Lady Fonvielle, who gives herself such intolerable airs on the strength of a pretty face, and always wants to get the primeures in bonnets and things.’