“You are curious again, Mr Ravenscar?”
“Very.”
“He was a gamester. It runs in the blood, you observe.”
“That would account for your presence here, of course.”
“Oh, I have been familiar with gaming-houses from my childhood up! I can tell a Greek, or a Captain Sharp, within ten minutes of his entering the room; I could play the groom porter for you, or deal for a faro-bank; I can detect a bale of flat conquer deuces as quickly as you could yourself; and the man who can fuzz the cards when I am at the table don’t exist.”
“You astonish me, Miss Grantham. You are indeed accomplished!”
“No,” she said seriously. “It is my business to know those things. I have no accomplishments. I do not sing, or play upon the pianoforte, or paint in water-colours. Those are accomplishments.”
“True,” he agreed. “But why repine? In certain circles they may be de rigueur, but they would be of very little use to you here, I imagine. You were wise to waste no time on such fripperies: you are already perfect for your setting, ma’am.”
“For my setting!” she repeated, flushing a little. “The devil! Your cousin is more complimentary!”
“Yes, I daresay he is,” replied Ravenscar, refilling her wineglass. “My cousin is very young and impressionable.”