My lord smiled wickedly. “But do I not know it! It is Letitia Grayson’s embraces you crave, my dear Markham.”
Mr Markham choked and swore. “Curse it, what do you know of Letty Grayson?”
“Very little, sir, but I shall hope to know more when she is Mrs Markham. I drink to that happy day.”
A gloomy look came into Mr Markham’s face. “You may spare your pains: it’s far off.”
“No, no, my friend, it is close at hand!” said my lord radiantly.
Mr Markham looked suspicious. “What do you know of it? You are off at a tangent. I’ve come to sell you your own treasonable letter, not to talk of Letty Grayson.”
My lord sat down again. “My friend, I will show you a sure road to Miss Letty,” he promised.
“I wish there was such a road,” Markham said. The truth was Miss Grayson’s dimpled loveliness haunted him almost as much as did Miss Grayson’s golden fortune.
“There is,” said my lord. “But it is known only to me. Let us be plain — you did wish me to be plain with you, did you not? Well, my dear Markham, at first I thought, no: I will not show my Munich friend the road. But then, sir, then I fell in love with your wit. You remember that I was impelled to compliment you. You seem to realise that I might not be quite all I pretend to be. I admire that perspicacity. Then you assured me that you had no animosity towards me. I was struck by this, sir: I was amazed. I saw in you a friend: I changed my mind. I will put into your hands a certain means of winning Letitia Grayson. You might be away to Gretna in a week, if you chose.”
“H’m!” said Mr Markham sceptically. “That’s to play the same game twice. With Fanshawe on my heels, as he was before. No, I thank you.”