“Oh!” said Horatia. “So you don’t even play f-fair!”
“Not in love,” he replied.
“I wish,” said Horatia forcefully, “you would stop talking about l-love. It makes me feel sick.”
“My dear,” he said, “I assure you I am falling deeper in love with you every moment.”
She curled her lip. “Stuff!” she snorted. “If you l-loved me the l-least little bit, you wouldn’t do this to me. And if you did ravish me you would be p-put into prison, if Rule d-didn’t kill you first, which I daresay he would do.”
“Ah!” said Lethbridge. “No doubt I should be put into prison—if you had the courage to tell the world of this night’s work. It would be worth it. Oh, it would be worth it, only to know that Rule’s damned pride was in the dust!”
Her eyes narrowed; she leaned a little forward, her hands clenched in her lap. “So that is it!” she said. “F-fustian, my lord! It would d-do very well at Drury Lane, I d-daresay, but in life, n-no!”
“We can but try,” said Lethbridge. The mockery had vanished, leaving his face very harsh, the mouth set in grim lines, the eyes staring straight ahead.
“I can’t imagine how ever I c-could have wanted you for a friend,” said Horatia, meditatively. “You are d-dreadfully poor-spirited, I think. C-couldn’t you find a way of revenge except through a woman?”
“None so exquisitely complete,” Lethbridge answered, unmoved. His gaze travelled to her face. “But when I look at you, Horry, why, I forget revenge, and desire you for yourself alone.”