But something had gone wrong and he had endured a wretched evening.
"That little English Johnnie was to blame," he argued.

"Of course, Barbara had a right to put any one she liked next to her, but why she should have chosen that silly ass is more than I know.

By Jove, if I had been on the other side I'll warrant his grace would have been lost in the dust." His brain was whirling, and for the first time he was beginning to feel the unpleasant pangs of jealousy.

The Duke of Beauchamp he especially disliked, although the poor man had hardly spoken during the dinner.
But Monty could not be reconciled.

He knew, of course, that Barbara had suitors by the dozen, but it had never occurred to him that they were even seriously considered.