“Married! Ay, so you are, and you’ve only to let Rule get wind of this and there’ll be the devil to pay. The Massey too! ’Pon my soul, if ever I met another to equal you!”
“W-well, and what have you against Lady M-Massey?” said Horatia.
“What have I—? Oh Lord!” The Viscount tugged ruefully at his solitaire. “I suppose you don’t—no, exactly. Now don’t plague me with a lot of silly questions, there’s a good girl. Come and drink a glass of negus.”
Still standing by the couch, Lord Lethbridge watched the departure of the brother and sister, and turned his head to observe Lady Massey. “Thank you, my dear Caroline,” he said sweetly. “That was vastly kind of you. Did you know it?”
“Do you think me a fool?” she retorted. “When that plum drops into your hand, remember then to thank me.”
“And the egregious Winwood, I fancy,” remarked his lordship, helping himself to a pinch of snuff. “Do you want that plum to fall into my hand, dear lady?”
The look that passed between them was eloquent enough. “We need not fence,” Lady Massey said crisply. “You have your own ends to serve; maybe I can guess what they are. My ends I daresay you know.”
“I am quite sure that I do,” grinned Lethbridge. “Do forgive me, my dear, but though I have a reasonable hope of achieving mine, I’m willing to lay you any odds you don’t achieve yours. Now is not that outspoken? You did say we need not fence, did you not?”
She stiffened. “What am I to understand by that, if you please?”
“Just this,” said Lethbridge, shutting his enamelled snuffbox with a snap. “I don’t need your assistance, my love. I play my cards to suit myself, neither to oblige you nor Crosby.”