“Snatching a brand from the burning?” she said, in a rallying tone. “My lords!” She swept them a deep curtsey. “Pray forgive me!”
“Mr Ravenscar wins all,” said Sir James Filey, with one of his mocking smiles. “It is the way of the world!”
There was a flash of anger in her eyes, but she pretended not to hear and passed out of the room on Ravenscar’s arm.
There were already several people in the dining-room on the ground-floor, but Ravenscar found a seat for Miss Grantham at one of the smaller tables arranged beside the wall, and, having supplied her with some pickled salmon, and a glass of iced champagne, he sat down opposite her, picked up his own knife and fork, and said: “You must allow me to tell you, Miss Grantham, that I count myself fortunate in their lordships’ misfortune.”
The corners of her mouth lifted. “That’s mighty pretty of you, sir. I had the oddest fancy that you were not much in the way of making pretty speeches.”
“That depends on the company in which I find myself,” he replied.
She eyed him speculatively. “What brought you here?” she asked abruptly.
“Curiosity, Miss Grantham.”
“Is it satisfied?”
“Oh, not yet, ma’am! Let me give you some of these green peas; they are quite excellent!”