“And is ten thousand pounds all you are prepared to offer to save your cousin from this horrid fate?” she inquired.
He looked at her in a measuring way, as though he were appraising her worth. “It would be interesting to know what figure you set upon yourself, Miss Grantham.”
She appeared to give this matter her consideration. “I do not know. You regard the affair in so serious a light that I feel I should be very green to accept less than twenty thousand.”
He turned his horses, and they broke into a trot again. “Why stop at that?” he asked, with a short bark of laughter.
“Indeed, I dare say I shan’t,” said Miss Grantham cordially. “My price will rise as Adrian’s birthday approaches.”
He drove on in silence for some little way, frowning heavily at the road ahead.
“How pretty the trees are, with their leaves just on the turn!” remarked Miss Grantham, in soulful accents.
He paid no heed to this sally, but once more looked down at her. “If I engage to pay you twenty thousand pounds, will you release my cousin?” he asked abruptly.
Miss Grantham tilted her head on one side. “I own, twenty thousand pounds is a temptation,” she said. “And yet ...!” she added undecidedly. “No, I think I would prefer to marry Adrian.”
“You will regret that decision, ma’am,” he said, dropping his hands, and letting the greys shoot.