“I fear that the fault was mine. I had grievously offended Miss Grantham.”
Lady Bellingham regarded him with increasing favour. “I declare it is very handsome of you to say so, sir! To be sure, she was excessively put out by your wanting to give her twenty thousand pounds, not that I shall ever understand—however, that is neither here nor there!”
“I imagine,” he said, looking rather amused, “that the expenses of keeping up an establishment of this style must be heavy?”
“Crushing!” said her ladyship, not mincing matters. “You would find it hard to believe the shocking sum I spend on candles alone.”
“Is it worth it?” he asked curiously.
“That is just the tiresome part of it,” confided her ladyship. “I quite thought it would be when I moved from Green Street, but nothing has gone right with us since we came to this house.”
“Do you like the life?”
“Not at all. I am getting a deal too old for it, I daresay, but what is one to do? One must hope for a run of luck to set all to rights.” An idea occurred to her. She laid down her fork, and looked speculatively at the dark countenance opposite to her. “Of course, I know that Deb would not accept any money from you. You must know that I am far from considering her an ineligible wife for your cousin.”
“On that subject, then, we are unlikely to agree, ma’am.”
“Yes, but I assure you I am very broadminded,” said Lady Bellingham. “You will never make the least impression on Deb, you know. I dare say she will marry Mablethorpe just to spite you.” She paused to observe the effect of these words, but Mr Ravenscar’s face betrayed nothing but polite interest. “You must not think I do not appreciate your feelings in the matter,” she continued. “I am sure there is much to be said for your not wishing the marriage to take place. I might help you. There is not the least reason why Deb should ever know anything about it.”