“You can’t take me to France,” she persisted. “You think because Sophia was indiscreet — that I — that we are loose women, but — ”
“If you’re trying to make me believe in your virtue, you’re wasting your breath,” interrupted his lordship. “I knew what your sister was from the start, and as for you, whatever doubts I may have had you’ve set at rest. Virtuous young ladies, my dear, don’t lend themselves to these jests. I may not be very much to your taste, but if you contrive to please me, you won’t find me less generous than any other man.”
“You are unpardonable!” she said in a suffocated voice. She got up, and this time he made no effort to prevent her. “Have the goodness to tell me how far I am from London. What is this place?”
“Newhaven,” he replied, draining his tankard.
“Can I travel by stage-coach from here?”
“I’ve no idea,” said his lordship with a yawn. “It need not concern you. I meant what I said.”
“To take me to Paris? You’re absurd, my lord. Do you suppose I should make no outcry? In these days even a noble marquis could scarcely force a young female aboard his yacht.”
“Scarcely,” agreed his lordship. “But I can make you so damned drunk that you’ll be in no fit case to struggle, my girl.” He drew a flask from the pocket of his greatcoat and held it up. “Hollands,” he said briefly.
She was scandalized. “I think you are mad,” she said with conviction.
He got up and came towards her. “You can think what you like, Mary, but you’ll drink my Hollands.”