Horatia drew a breath, as though in preparation for a dive into deep waters, and walked across the hall to Mr Gisborne’s room.
The Earl was standing by the desk with his back to the door, reading a speech Mr Gisborne had prepared for him. He had evidently been riding, for he wore top-boots, a little dusty, and buckskin breeches, with a plain but excellently cut coat of blue cloth with silver buttons. He held his whip and gloves in one hand; his hat was thrown down on a chair. “Admirable, my dear boy, but far too long. I should forget the half of it, and the Lords would be shocked, quite shocked, you know,” he said, and gave the paper back to the secretary. “And Arnold—do you think—a little less impassioned? Ah yes, I thought you would agree! I am never impassioned.”
Mr Gisborne was bowing to Horatia; my lord turned his head, and saw her. “A thousand pardons, my love! I did not hear you come in,” he said.
Horatia bestowed a rather perfunctory smile on Mr Gisborne, who, accustomed to the friendliest of treatment from her, instantly wondered what could be the matter. “Are you very b-busy, sir?” she asked, raising her anxious eyes to Rule’s face.
“Arnold will tell you, my dear, that I am never busy,” he replied.
“W-well, could you spare me a m-moment of your time n-now?” Horatia said.
“As many as you desire,” he said, and held open the door for her to pass out. “Shall we go into the library, ma’am?”
“I d-don’t mind where we go,” said Horatia in a small voice. “But I want to be p-private with you.”
“My dear, this is very flattering,” he said.
“It isn’t,” replied Horatia mournfully. She went into the library, and watched him shut the door. “I want to be p-private because there is something I m-must tell you.”