“Lady Ruth,” Aynesworth answered deliberately, “is a very beautiful woman, with all the most dangerous gifts of Eve when she wanted her own way. She did me the scanty honor of appraising me as an easy victim, and she asked questions.”
“For instance?”
“She wanted me to tell her if you still had in your possession certain letters of hers,” Aynesworth said.
“Good! What did you say?”
“I told her, of course,” Aynesworth continued, “that having been in your service for a few hours only, I was scarcely in a position to know. I ventured further to remind her that such questions, addressed from her to me, were, to say the least of it, improper.”
Wingrave’s lips parted in what should have been a smile, but the spirit of mirth was lacking.
“And then?”
“There was nothing else,” Aynesworth answered. “She simply dismissed me.”
“I can see,” Wingrave remarked, “your grievance. You are annoyed because she regarded you as too easy a victim.”
“Perhaps,” Aynesworth admitted.