Devil's Cub Read Free Page A

to argue in comfort.
    Meanwhile, Miss Juliana Marling, a charming blonde dressed in blue lustring with spangled shoes, and her curls arranged a la Gorgonne ,had dragged her cousin into one of the adjoining saloons. “You are the very person I wished to see!” she informed him.
    The Marquis said with conspicuous lack of gallantry: “If you want me to do something for you, Juliana, I warn you I never do anything for anybody.”
    Miss Marling opened her blue eyes very wide. “Not even for me, Dominic?” she said soulfully.
    His lordship remained unmoved. “No,” he replied.
    Miss Marling sighed and shook her head. “You are horridly disobliging, you know. It quite decides me not to marry you.”
    “I hoped it might,” said his lordship calmly.
    Miss Marling made an effort to look affronted, but only succeeded in giggling. “You needn’t be afraid. I am going to marry someone quite different,” she said.
    His lordship evinced signs of faint interest at that “Are you?” he inquired. “Does my aunt know?”
    “You may be very wicked, and quite hatefully rude,” said Miss Marling, “but I will say one thing for you, Dominic: you do not need to have things explained to you like John. Mamma does not mean me to marry him, and that is why I am to be packed off to France next week.”
    “Who is ‘he?’ Ought I to know?” inquired the Marquis.
    “I don’t suppose you know him. He is not at all the sort of person who would know your set,” said Miss Marling severely.
    “Ah, then I was right,” retorted my lord. “You are contemplating a mesalliance .”
    Miss Marling stiffened in every line of her small figure. “It’s no such thing! He may not be a brilliant match, or have a title, but all the men I have met who are brilliant matches are just like you, and would make the most horrid husbands.”
    “You may as well let me know the worst,” said my lord. “H you think it would annoy Aunt Fanny, I’ll do what I can for you.”
    She clasped both hands on his arm. “Dear, dear Dominic! I knew you would! It is Frederick Comyn.”
    “And who,” said the Marquis, “might he be?”
    “He comes from Gloucestershire—or is it Somerset? Well, it doesn’t signify—and his papa is Sir Malcolm Comyn, and it is all perfectly respectable, as dear Aunt Léonie would say, for they have always lived there, and there is an estate, though not very large, I believe, and Frederick is the eldest son, and he was at Cambridge, and this is his first stay in town, and Lord Carlisle is his sponsor, so you see it is not a mesalliance at all.”
    “I don’t,” said his lordship. “You may as well give up the notion, my dear. They’ll never let you throw yourself away on this nobody.”
    “Dominic,” said Miss Marling with dangerous quiet.
    My lord looked lazily down at her.
    “I just want you to know that my mind is made up,” she said, giving him back look for look. “So that it is no use to talk to me like that.”
    “Very well,” said my lord.
    “And you will make a push to help us, won’t you, dearest Dominic?”
    “Oh certainly, child. I will tell Aunt Fanny that the alliance has my full approval.”
    “You are quite abominable,” said his cousin. “I know you dislike of all things to bestir yourself, but recollect, my lord, if once I am wed you need not be afraid any more that mamma will make you marry me.”
    “I am not in the least afraid of that,” replied his lordship.
    “I declare it would serve you right if I did marry you!” cried Miss Marling indignantly. “You are being quite atrocious and all I want you to do is to write a letter to Tante Elisabeth in Paris!”
    His lordship’s attention seemed to have wandered, but at this he brought his gaze back from the contemplation of a ripe blonde who was trying to appear unconscious of his scrutiny, and looked down into Miss Marling’s face.
    “Why?” he asked.
    “If s perfectly plain, Dominic, I should have thought. Tante Elisabeth so dotes