“Well, I must own that it is not my intention to flatter you,” replied his lordship, his thin lips curling into an unpleasant smile.
Ravenscar looked at him, slightly frowning. “How am I to take that, my lord?”
“I hope you may take it to heart. Let me tell you that I cannot congratulate you on the use you made of certain bills which I sold you. I must confess I am disappointed in you, my dear Ravenscar.”
“May I know how you are aware of what use I made of them?”
His lordship shrugged. “Inference, just inference!” he said sweetly.
“I suppose I must be extremely dull-witted, but I am still far from understanding what you mean. May I suggest that we step into the next room?”
“By all means,” bowed Ormskirk. “I can appreciate the delicacy of feeling which prompts you to shrink from discussing your cousin’s wife in such a public spot.”
Ravenscar strode over to the door that led into a small writing-room, and held it open. “I should certainly be loath to do so,” he replied. “My cousin, however, is not married nor is he likely to be.”
“You think not?” smiled Ormskirk.
Ravenscar shut the door. “I am quite sure of it.”