Mr Wantage grinned, and went to remove the scarf and the gag. Miss Grantham saw that her prisoner was rather pale, and a good deal dishevelled, and said, in a voice of some concern, “I am afraid they handled you roughly! Silas, please to fetch, glass of wine for Mr Ravenscar!”
“You are too good, ma’am!” said Mr Ravenscar, with bitter emphasis.
“Well, I am sorry if you were hurt, but it was quite your own fault,” said Miss Grantham defensively. “If you had not done such a shabby thing to me I would not have had you kidnapped. You have behaved in the most odious fashion, and you deserve it all!” A rankling score came into her mind. She added: “You did me the honour once, Mr Ravenscar, of telling me that I should be whipped at the cart’s tail!”
“Do you expect me to beg your pardon?” he demanded. “You will be disappointed, my fair Cyprian!”
Miss Grantham flushed rosily, and her eyes darted fire. “I you dare to call me by that name I will hit you!” she said between her teeth.
“You may do what you please—strumpet!” replied Mr Ravenscar.
She took one hasty step towards him, and then checked saying in a mortified tone: “You are not above taking an unfair advantage of me. You know very well I can’t hit you when you have your hands tied.”
“You amaze me, ma’am! I had not supposed you to be restricted by any consideration of fairness.”
“You have no right to say so!” flashed Miss Grantham.
He laughed harshly. “Indeed? You go a great deal too far for me, let me tell you! You got me here by a trick I was fool enough to think even you would not stoop to—”