“My lord,” said Mr Gisborne. “I have been hoping you might come in.”
The Earl paused, and looked down the stairway, one hand resting on the baluster rail. “But how charming of you, Arnold!”
Mr Gisborne, who knew his lordship, heaved a despairing sigh. “My lord, if you would spare only a few moments to glance over some accounts I have here!”
The Earl smiled disarmingly. “Dear Arnold, go to the devil!” he said, and went on up the stairs.
“But, sir, indeed I can’t act without your authority! A bill for a perch-phaeton, from a coach-maker’s! Is it to be paid?”
“My dear boy, of course pay it. Why ask me?”
“It is not one of your bills, sir,” said Mr Gisborne, a stern look about his mouth.
“I am aware,” said his lordship, slightly amused. “One of Lord Winwood’s, I believe. Settle it, my dear fellow.”
“Very well, sir. And Mr Drelincourt’s little affair?”
At that the Earl, who had been absorbed in smoothing a crease from his sleeve, looked up. “Are you inquiring after the state of my cousin’s health, or what?” he asked.