They rose as one.
“The Duchess!” Davenant bowed.
“My dearest sister!” Fanny cried.
“My wife!” said his Grace softly.
Léonie stood up, blushing, and, taking Rupert’s hand, jumped on to her chair.
“Thank you very much!” she said. “May I give a toast, please?”
“Ay, bless you!” said Rupert.
“Monseigneur!” Léonie said, and made him a quaint little bow. “Oh, where is my glass? Rupert, hand it up to me quickly!”
The Duke’s health was duly drunk.
“And now,” said Léonie, “I drink to Rupert, because he has been very good, and useful to me!”
“Here’s to you, brave lad!” said his lordship gravely. “What now, minx?”
Still perched upon the chair Léonie said gleefully:
“Voyons, I get higher and higher in the world!”
“You’ll fall off the chair if you jump like that, silly chit!” Rupert warned her.
“Do not interrupt me,” said Léonie reprovingly. “I am making a speech.”
“Lord save us, what next will you be at?” Rupert said, unrepentant.
“Tais-toi, imbécile! . . . First I was a peasant, and then I became a page. Then I was made Monseigneur’s ward, and now I am a Duchess! I am become very respectable, n’est-ce pas?”
His Grace was at her side, and lifted her down from the chair.
“My infant,” he said, “duchesses do not dance on chairs, nor do they call their brothers ‘imbécile’.”
Léonie twinkled irrepressibly.
“I do,” she said firmly.
Rupert shook his head at her.
“Justin’s in the right of it,” he said. “You’ll have to mend your ways, spitfire. No more bouquets from Princes of the Blood, eh, Justin? Dignity! That’s the thing! You must let your hair grow too, and speak to me politely. I’ll be pinked an I’ll have a sister who tells all my friends I’m an imbecile! Politeness, my lady, and some of your husband’s haughtiness! That’s what you must have, isn’t it, Fan?”
“Ah, bah!” said the Duchess of Avon.