he had the opportunity he sought of observing Miss Grantham. He was also obliged to observe his cousin’s lover-like attentions to the lady, a spectacle which made him feel physically unwell. Adrian’s frank blue eyes openly adored her; he paid very little attention to anyone else; and his attitude towards Lord Ormskirk reminded Ravenscar strongly of a dog guarding a bone.
Ormskirk seemed faintly amused. Several times he addressed some provocative remark to Adrian, as though he derived a sadistic pleasure from baiting the boy. Several times Adrian seemed to be on the verge of bursting into intemperate speech, but on each such occasion Miss Grantham intervened, turning his lordship’s poisoned rapier aside with considerable deftness, tossing a laughing rejoinder to him, soothing Adrian by a swift, intimate smile which seemed to assure him that between him and her there was a secret understanding which Ormskirk’s sallies could not impair.
Ravenscar allowed her to be a very clever young woman, and liked her none the better for it. She was holding two very different lovers on the lightest of reins, and so far she had not tangled the ribbons. But although Adrian might be easy to handle, Ormskirk was of another kidney, reflected Ravenscar, with grim satisfaction.
His lordship, who was nearer fifty years of age than forty, had been twice married, and was again a widower. It was popularly supposed that he had driven both his wives into their graves. He had several daughters, none yet having emerged from the schoolroom, and one son, still in short coats. His household was presided over by his sister, a colourless woman, prone to tears, which perhaps accounted for the fact of his lordship’s being so seldom to be found at home. Both his marriages had been prudent, if unexciting, and since he had for years been in the habit of seeking his pleasures in the arms of a succession of fair Cyprians, it was in the highest degree unlikely that he was contemplating a third venture into matrimony. If he were, he would not look for his new bride in a gaming- house, Mr Ravenscar knew. His designs on Miss Grantham were strictly dishonourable; and, judging by his cool air of ownership, he was very sure of her, too sure to be discomposed by the calf-love of a younger suitor.
But Ravenscar knew Ormskirk too well to feel easy in his mind. If Miss Grantham were to decide that marriage with Adrian would be better worth her while than a more elastic connexion with Ormskirk, Adrian would have acquired a very dangerous enemy. No consideration of his youth would weigh for an instant with one whose pride it was to be considered deadly either with the small-sword, or the pistol. It was perfectly well known to Ravenscar that Ormskirk had thrice killed his man in a duel; and he began to perceive that the extrication of his cousin from Miss Grantham’s toils was a matter of even greater urgency than he had at first supposed.
The third gentleman who appeared to have claims on Miss Grantham was the man who had so cheerfully hailed him upon his first approaching the table. He seemed to be on intimate terms with the lady, but was resented neither by Adrian nor by Lord Ormskirk. He was a pleasant fellow, with smiling eyes, and an engaging address. Mr Ravenscar would have been much surprised to have found that he was not a soldier of fortune. Miss Grantham called him Lucius; he called Miss Grantham his darling, with an easy familiarity that indicated long friendship, or some fonder relationship. Miss Grantham, thought Mr Ravenscar, was altogether too free with her favours.
At one in the morning she relinquished the E.O. table, calling upon Mr Lucius Kennet to take her place at it. “Ah, I’m tired, and want my supper!” she said. “My Lord, will you take me down to supper? I swear I’m famished!”
“With the greatest pleasure on earth, my dear,” said Lord Ormskirk, in his weary voice.
“Oh course I will take you down, Deb!” said Lord Mablethorpe, offering his arm.
She stood between them, laughing dismay in her eyes, looking from one to the other. “Oh, I am overwhelmed, but indeed, indeed—”
Ravenscar walked forward. “Madam, you stand between two fires! Allow me to rescue you! May I have the honour of taking you down to supper?”
“Snatching a brand from the burning?” she said, in a rallying tone. “My lords!” She swept them a deep curtsey. “Pray forgive me!”
“Mr Ravenscar wins all,” said Sir James Filey, with one of his mocking smiles. “It is the way of the world!”
There was a flash of anger in her eyes, but she pretended not to hear and passed out of the room on Ravenscar’s arm.
There were already several people in the dining-room on the ground-floor, but Ravenscar found a seat for Miss Grantham at one of the smaller tables arranged beside the wall, and, having supplied her with some pickled salmon, and a glass of iced champagne, he sat down opposite her, picked up his own knife and fork, and said: “You must allow me to tell you, Miss Grantham, that I count myself fortunate in their lordships’ misfortune.”
The corners of her mouth lifted. “That’s mighty pretty of you, sir. I had the oddest fancy that you were not much in the way of making pretty speeches.”
“That depends on the company in which I find myself,” he replied.
She eyed him speculatively. “What brought you here?” she asked abruptly.
“Curiosity, Miss Grantham.”
“Is it satisfied?”
“Oh, not yet, ma’am! Let me give you some of these green peas; they are quite excellent!”
“Yes, we pride ourselves on the quality of our suppers,” she said. “Why did you play at E.O.? Is not faro your game?”
“Curiosity again, Miss Grantham. My besetting sin.”
“Curiosity to see a female elbow-shaker, sir?”
“Just so,” he agreed.
“Was that why you came?”
“Of course,” he said coolly.
She laughed. “Well, I did not think when I saw you that you were a gamester!”
“Did you take me for a flat, Miss Grantham?”
Her eyes twinkled rather attractively. “Why, yes, for a moment I did! But Lord Ormskirk put all my hopes to flight. The rich Mr Ravenscar’s luck at the bones or the cards is proverbial.”
“It was out tonight.”
“Oh, you do not care a fig for that silly game! I wish you may not break my aunt’s faro-bank.”
“If you will inform the stalwart person at your door that I am free to enter the house, I promise I shall endeavour to do so when I come again.”
“You must know that all doors are open to the rich Mr Ravenscar—particularly such doors as this.”
“Make it plain, then, to your henchman, or you may have a brawl upon your doorstep.”
“Ah, Silas is too knowing a one! Only law-officers and their spies are refused admittance here, and he would smell one at sixty paces.”
“What a valuable acquisition he must be to you!”
“It would be impossible to imagine an existence without him. He was my father’s sergeant. I have known him from my cradle.”
“Your father was a military man?” said Mr Ravenscar, slightly raising his brows.
“Yes, at one time.”
“And then?”
“You are curious again, Mr Ravenscar?”
“Very.”
“He was a gamester. It runs in the blood, you observe.”
“That would account for your presence here, of course.”
“Oh, I have been familiar with gaming-houses from my childhood up! I can tell a Greek, or a Captain Sharp, within ten minutes of his entering the room; I could play the groom porter for you, or deal for a faro-bank; I can detect a bale of flat
“You astonish me, Miss Grantham. You are indeed accomplished!”
“No,” she said seriously. “It is my business to know those things. I have no accomplishments. I do not sing, or play upon the pianoforte, or paint in water-colours. Those are accomplishments.”
“True,” he agreed. “But why repine? In certain circles they may be
