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She obeyed him, extracting from her reticule a gold box with enamelled plaques on the lid and sides.
He took it from her to inspect it more closely. ‘Very pretty. Where did you get it?’
‘At Rundell and Bridge. I bought several there.’
He gave it back to her. ‘You have good taste.’
‘Thank you,’ said Judith. ‘To have earned the approval of so notable a connoisseur as yourself must afford me gratification.’
He smiled. ‘Do not be impertinent, Miss Taverner.’
She flicked open the box, and offered it to him. ‘You mistake me, Lord Worth: I was being civil – in your own manner.’
‘You have not mastered the precise way of it,’ he answered. ‘No, don’t offer your box to me; it is not a mixture that I like.’
‘Indeed! How odd!’ said Miss Taverner, raising a pinch to one nostril with a graceful turn of her wrist. ‘I do not like it either.’
‘That is probably because you have drenched it with Vina-grillo,’ said the Earl calmly. ‘I warned you to be sparing in the use of it.’
‘I have not drenched it with Vinagrillo!’ said Miss Taverner, indignantly shutting her box. ‘I used two drops, just to moisten the whole!’
A gentleman who was standing beside Colonel Wyndham in the middle of the saloon had been looking at Miss Taverner in a dreamy, unconcerned way, but when he saw her take out her snuff-box a look of interest came into his eyes, and he wandered away from the Colonel, and came towards the sofa. He said very earnestly to Worth: ‘Please present me! Such a pretty box! What I should call a nice visiting-box, but not suitable for morning wear. I was tempted when they showed it to me, but it did not happen to be just what I was looking for.’
Judith stared at him in a good deal of astonishment, but Lord Worth, betraying no hint of surprise, merely said: ‘Lord Petersham, Miss Taverner,’ and got up.
Lord Petersham begged permission to sit beside Miss Taverner. ‘Tell me,’ he said anxiously, ‘are you interested in tea, I wonder?’
She was not interested in tea, but she knew that his lordship had a room lined with canisters of every imaginable kind, from Gunpowder to Lapsang Souchong. She confessed her ignorance, and felt that she had disappointed him.
‘It is a pity, a great pity,’ he said. ‘You would find it almost as interesting as snuff. And you are interested in that, are you not? You have your own mixture; I saw the jar at Fribourg and Treyer’s.’
Miss Taverner produced her box. ‘I wish you will do me the honour of trying my sort,’ she said.
‘Mine will be the honour,’ said his lordship, bowing. He dipped his finger and thumb in her box, and held a pinch to his nostrils, half-closing his eyes. ‘Spanish bran – a hint of Brazil – something else besides, possibly a dash of masulipatam.’ He turned. ‘It reminds me of a mixture I think I have had in your house, Julian.’
‘Impossible!’ said Worth.
‘Well, perhaps it is not precisely the same,’ conceded Lord Petersham, turning back to Miss Taverner. ‘A very delicate mixture, ma’am. It is easy to detect the hand and unerring taste of an expert.’
Miss Taverner, with her guardian’s ironic eye upon her, had the grace to blush.
It was soon time to go upstairs and change her gown for dinner. She was placed at table between Lord Robert Manners and Mr Pierrepoint, nowhere near the Earl, and as he joined the Duke of York after dinner, with his host and another inveterate whist-player, whom everyone called Chig, she did not speak to him again that evening.
She was not the only lady to join the Hunt next day, but no more than three others had enough energy or enthusiasm to appear, and by no means all the gentlemen. She was somewhat surprised to find Mr Brummell attired for riding when she came down to an early breakfast, and opened her eyes at him.
He drew out a chair for her beside his own. ‘I know,’ he said understandingly, ‘but it has a good appearance, and one need not go beyond the second field.’
‘Not go beyond the second field!’ she echoed. ‘Why, won’t you go farther, Mr Brummell?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ he replied very gravely. ‘There is sure to be a farmhouse where I can get some bread and cheese, and you must know there is nothing I like better than that.’
‘Bread and cheese instead of hunting!’ she said. ‘I cannot allow it to be a choice!’
‘Yes, but you see, if I went very far I should get my tops and leathers splashed by all the greasy, galloping farmers,’ he replied softly.
But even her partiality for him could not induce Miss Taverner to smile at such a speech as that. She looked reproachful, and would only say: ‘I am persuaded you do not mean it.’
She was to discover later that he had for once spoken in all sincerity. He abandoned the Hunt after the first few fields, and was no more seen. She commented on it with strong disapproval to her guardian, who had drawn up beside her at a check, but he merely looked faintly surprised, and said that the notion of Brummell muddied and dishevelled from a long day in the saddle was too absurd to be contemplated. Upon reflection she had to admit him to be right.
