There was nothing Mr Ravenscar wanted less than to hear his cousin explain his passion for Miss Grantham, but he said: “By all means! Are you coming to watch my race, by the way?”
This question succeeded in diverting Lord Mablethorpe for the moment, and he replied, with his face lighting up: “Oh, by Jove, I should think I am! But what a complete hand you are, Max! I never heard you make such a bet in your life! I suppose you will win. There is no one like you when it comes to handling the ribbons! Where will it be run?”
“Oh, down at Epsom, I imagine! I left it to Filey to settle the locality.”
“I hate that fellow!” said Lord Mablethorpe, frowning. “I hope you will beat him.”
“Well, I shall do my best. Do you go to Newmarket next month?”
“Yes. No. That is, I am not sure. But I didn’t come to talk of that!”
Mr Ravenscar resigned himself to the inevitable, made himself comfortable in his chair, and said: “What did you come to talk of?”
Lord Mablethorpe picked up a fork, and began to trace patterns with it upon the table. “I hadn’t the intention of telling you about it,” he confessed. “It is not as though you were my guardian, after all! Of course, I know you are one of my trustees, but that is quite a different thing, isn’t it?”
“Oh, quite!” agreed Ravenscar.
“I mean, you are not responsible for anything I may do,” said Adrian, pressing home his point with a little anxiety.