Mr Kennet, who had been following the discussion with bright-eyed interest, said: “Ah,—now, we’ll record this bet, gentlemen! Waiter, fetch up the betting-book!”
Mr Ravenscar glanced at Miss Grantham, his lip curling.
“So you even have a betting-book!” he remarked. “You think of everything, don’t you, ma’am?”
Chapter 3
Mr Ravenscar left Lady Bellingham’s house while his young relative was still engaged at the faro-table, having himself declined to hazard any of his winnings at his favourite game. As he was shrugging his shoulders into his drab overcoat, he was joined, rather to his surprise, by Lord Ormskirk, who came sauntering down the stairs, swinging his quizzing glass between his white fingers.
“Ah, my dear Ravenscar!” said his lordship, with a lift of his delicately pencilled brows. “So you too find it a trifle flat! Wantage; my cloak! If you are going in my direction, Ravenscar, I am sure you will bear me company. My cane, Wantage!”
“Yes, I’ll bear you company willingly,” said Mr Ravenscar. “So obliging of you, my dear fellow! Do you find the night air—ah, the morning air, is it not?—invigorating?”
“Immensely,” said Mr Ravenscar.
His lordship smiled, and passed out of the house, drawing on a pair of elegant, lavender gloves. A link-boy ran up with his flaring torch, with offers of a chair or a hackney.
“We’ll walk,” said Ravenscar.