The Viscount rubbed the tip of his nose reflectively. “Something to be said for that, Ger,” he admitted.
“I have no intention, at present, of driving him away from Stanyon,” Gervase said.
“Do you mean to charge him with today’s misadventure?” Theo asked.
“No, and I beg you will not either!”
“Very well. I certainly did no good by anything I said to him about his conduct over the bridge,” Theo said, with a wry grimace. “I wish I may not have goaded him into this. I begin to be sorry that I urged you to remain at Stanyon, Gervase. It might have been better, perhaps, to have given Martin time to have grown used to the thought that it is you who are master here now.”
“He had a year in which to grow used to that thought,” replied Gervase dryly. “Are you now advising me to retire to London? You are too late: I do not choose to be driven out of Stanyon.”
“No, I would not advise that course. Matters must come to a head between you and Martin — but what that head will be, and whether you will be able to settle it without injury, and without scandal, I know not.”
“Nor I, but I shall do my possible. Both injury and scandal I should dislike quite as much as you, Theo, I assure you. Meanwhile, there is no more to be said. It must be time for dinner: let us go and join her ladyship!”
They found the rest of the party already assembled in the Long Drawing-room. Martin was standing a little apart from the group near the fire, fidgeting with a pair of snuffers. He looked round when he heard the door open, and coloured a little. He had not encountered his brother since his outbreak of temper at the nuncheon-table, which might have accounted for the slight constraint with which he said: “Hallo, St. Erth! They tell me you have taken a toss. How came that about?”
“Mere carelessness. Cloud set his near-fore in a rabbit-hole.”