He gazed meditatively ahead between his horse’s ears. “I wonder if you would care to buy two of Manningtree’s breakdowns before they come into the open market?” he said presently. “Quite done up, poor fellow, and is selling off all his cattle. What’s your figure, Sophy?”
“Sir Horace told me not above four hundred, unless I saw a pair it would be a crime not to buy.”
“Manningtree would sell you his match bays for less than that. As handsome a pair as you could wish for. I should buy them myself if I had a feather to fly with.”
“Where may I see them?
“Leave that to me. I’ll arrange it. What’s your direction?”
“At Lord Ombersley’s house in Berkeley Square, that big one, at the corner!”
“Of course. So he is your uncle, is he?”
“No, but his wife is my aunt.”
“And Charles Rivenhall is therefore your cousin. Well, well! How do you contrive to amuse yourself, my Sophy?”
“I own, I did wonder how I should do so, but I find that the whole family is in a sad tangle, poor dears, and I do hope I may be able to make them more comfortable!”