“Then I’ll take my leave of you, sir,” Vidal said. “Accept my apologies for the inconvenience I may have caused you.” He bowed, unsmiling, and turned sharp on his heel.
As he jerked open the door, Avon spoke again. “By the way, Vidal, does my record still stand?”
The Marquis looked back over his shoulder, frowning. “Your record, sir?”
“Three hours and forty-seven minutes was my time,” said his grace pensively.
An unwilling laugh broke from Vidal. “No, sir, your record does not stand.”
“I thought not,” said Avon. “May I be permitted to know the new record?”
“Three hours and forty-four minutes. But the curricle was specially designed.”
“So was mine,” said Avon. “I am glad you bettered my time. If I were twenty years younger — ”
“I beg you will not attempt it, sir,” said the Marquis quickly. He hesitated; the stormy look was still in his face, but his eyes had softened.
“Pray do not do violence to your feelings,” Avon said. “You will find me remarkably hard to wound.”