He raised his brows. “Are you suggesting that I should bribe you to use your influence with Miss Grantham?” he inquired, “I should not think of insulting you so, ma’am!”
“When there is no turning round for the bills which clutter the whole house, I do not feel that it is the time to be talking of insults,” said her ladyship. “If you liked to hand me the twenty thousand pounds you were so obliging as to offer to Deb, I will engage for it that she shall not marry Mablethorpe, if I can prevent her!”
He laughed, and got up. “No, I think not, ma’am. After all, you might not be able to prevent her, you know; in which event I should have wasted my money.”
Lady Bellingham sighed. “It would not be wasted,” she said sadly. “However, I did not suppose that you would consent to do it.”
“Don’t despair, ma’am! I may yet lose a fortune at your faro-bank.”
“I wish you may, but I dare say you will break the bank instead,” said her ladyship pessimistically.
Mr Ravenscar did not go to these lengths, but his luck was decidedly in that evening, and Lady Bellingham could only feel glad when he finally rose from the table, and went away.
He was somewhat reassured by what she had said to him, for he could not suppose that she would have offered to prevent her niece’s marrying Mablethorpe if Miss Grantham had been even then on her way to Gretna Green. He tried to put the affair out of mind, and if he did not entirely succeed, at least he was not conscious of feeling much anxiety on his cousin’s behalf. He was merely conscious of a strong desire to see Miss Grantham again.
He had some days to wait before this wish could be gratified. Though a great many letters and invitation-cards were delivered at his house, none of them bore Miss Grantham’s handwriting on them. Mr Ravenscar developed a habit of tossing over his correspondence with an impatient hand, and his servants noticed that whenever they brought him a note on a tray he would pick it up with much more eagerness than he was in the habit of betraying, and then look out of reason cross. They drew their own conclusions, and shook their heads over it.
It was a week before Mr Ravenscar received any tidings of Miss Grantham’s whereabouts. He was driving himself home from the village of Kensington one afternoon when he came slap upon Lord Mablethorpe, riding along Piccadilly towards him. His lordship bore signs of travel upon his slim person, his topboots being generously splashed with mud, and his horse’s legs mired to the knees. He saw his cousin’s curricle approaching him, and waved.