“I do not propose to make the attempt,” he replied. “I rely upon you to do that.”
“I have no notion of doing it. I have a fancy to be my Lady Mablethorpe.”
“To which end, I suppose, you assumed the manners of a trollop at Vauxhall the other night!”
She bit her lip. “Oh, I did that merely to make you angry! I thought it would do you a great deal of good to see how a harpy might behave!”
“So that rankled, did it?” he said, smiling rather grimly. “I still say you are a harpy, Miss Grantham.”
“If I were, I would have closed with your obliging offer!”
“I fancy you nourished hopes of getting more from me than twenty thousand pounds,” he said. “Was not your behaviour at Vauxhall designed to convince me that no price would be too great to pay for my unfortunate cousin’s redemption?”
She showed him a white face, and very glittering eyes. “If I were a man,” she said in a shaking voice, “I would run you through!”
“There is nothing to stop you doing so now, if you can borrow a sword,” he replied.
Miss Grantham swept out of the cellar, too angry to speak, and slammed and locked the door behind her.