Lord Fotheringay lifted up his hands and said “Ah—ah,” in different cadences.
Lady Innisfail folded her hands and shook her head with some degree of solemnity. She felt confident that if Lord Fotheringay was in earnest, her autumn party would be talked about with an enthusiasm surpassing that which would attach to the comments on any of the big shoots in Scotland, or in Yorkshire, or in Wales.
But when Lord Fotheringay had an opportunity of conversing alone with Mr. Airey, he did not think it necessary to dwell upon the delights which he had begun to perceive might be found in a life of pure domesticity. He took the liberty of reminding Mr. Airey of the conversation they had on the morning after Miss Avon’s arrival at the Castle.
“Had we a conversation then, Lord Fotheringay?” said Mr. Airey, in a tone that gave Lord Fotheringay to understand that if any contentious point was about to be discussed, it would rest with him to prove everything.
“Yes, we had a conversation,” said Lord Fotheringay. “I was foolish enough to make a confidant of you.”
“If you did so, you certainly were foolish,” said Edmund, quietly.
“I have been keeping my eyes open and my ears open as well, during the past ten days,” said Lord Fotheringay, with a leer that was meant to be significant. Edmund Airey, however, only took it to signify that Lord Fotheringay could easily be put into a very bad temper. He said nothing, but allowed Lord Fotheringay to continue. “Yes, let me tell you that when I keep both eyes and ears open not much escapes me. I have seen and heard a good deal. You are a clever sort of person, friend Airey; but you don’t know the world as I know it.”
“No, no—as you know it—ah, no,” remarked Mr. Airey.
Lord Fotheringay was a trifle put out by the irritating way in which the words were spoken. Still, the pause he made was not of long duration.
“You have your game to play, like other people, I suppose,” he resumed, after the little pause.