“It is not yet time for luncheon,” he replied.
“No, but I have to change my g-gown.”
“That is naturally important,” agreed the Earl.
“Well, it is,” she insisted.
The Earl held the door into the library open. Up went Horatia’s chin. “I m-may as well tell you, my lord, that I’m feeling c-cross, and when I’m cross I don’t talk to p-people.”
Across the wide stretch of hall the Earl’s eyes met and held hers. “Horry,” he said pleasantly, “you know how much I dislike exertion. Don’t put me to the trouble of fetching you.”
The chin came down a little, and the smouldering eyes showed a certain speculative interest. “C-carry me, do you m-mean? I wonder if you would?”
The gravity of Rule’s expression was dispelled by a slight look of amusement. “And I wonder whether you really think that I would not?” he said.
A door at the end of the hall, leading to the servants’ quarters, opened, and a footman came out. Horatia shot a triumphant glance at the Earl, set one foot on the bottom stair, hesitated, and then swung round and walked back into the library.
The Earl closed the door. “You play fair, Horry, at all events,” he remarked.