“She has made a special effort as you are here,” Lord Corbury replied, and catching Sir Nicolas’s eye, Fenella gave a hastily repressed laugh.
“Why do I see so little of you, Fenella, these days?”
Augustus Baldwyn asked ingratiatingly.
Fenella wondered if it was the excellent Claret which was making him so mellow.
“I expect because you do not bother to look for me,” she answered. “I am either here, or at home, while you, Augustus, I am sure are making your mark amongst the Bucks and Dandies of St. James’s.”
“You are right, my dear Fenella,” he replied conceitedly. “I play my part in the Beau Monde, but I would still like to see more of you. I will take you driving in my phaeton one afternoon.”
This, Fenella knew, was a gesture of high condescension from someone as puffed up with his
