“I — No.”
“Well, it sounds a havey-cavey business to me!” he said. He glanced round again, frowning. “Martin not home yet?”
“No,” she said, and resolutely closed her lips.
“Late, ain’t he?”
She was silent.
“Think I’ll ride to meet Ger!” said the Viscount.
“A very excellent idea!” said Mrs. Morville warmly. “If I were you, I would go at once!”
“I will!” said the Viscount, and strode off without ceremony.
He reached the head of the terrace steps in time to see the Earl’s curricle come sweeping through the vaulted arch of the Gate Tower. The grays were being driven at a spanking pace, and the Viscount was thunderstruck to perceive that it was Martin who held the reins. He was still standing staring incredulously when the curricle drew up at the foot of the steps, and Martin, whose new-found humility had not deterred him from arguing hotly with his brother on certain of the finer points of driving, said triumphantly: “Now own I have not overturned you!”
“Oh, I do! How thankful I am I didn’t bring a high-perch phaeton into Lincolnshire!” said the Earl, preparing to alight.