“You are very obliging, my lord,” she retorted, “but I prefer not to place my trust in one whose senses are clearly disordered!”
“Don’t be foolish!” he replied, in much the same tone as she might herself have used in addressing a troublesome child. “You know very well that my senses are not in the least disordered. You will do well to sit down again while I procure you some refreshment.”
His manner had the effect of soothing her exasperated nerves, and she could not but acknowledge that his offer of refreshment was welcome. She had not eaten since the morning. She went back to her chair, but said suspiciously, “I do not know how you may mean to provide for me, for I am certainly not going to marry your cousin!”
“That is as you wish,” he returned, tugging at the bell-pull.
“From what I have seen of your establishment,” remarked Miss Rochdale waspishly, “that bell is very likely broken.”
“More than probable,” he agreed, walking toward the door. “But this is not my establishment.”
Miss Rochdale put a hand to her brow. “I begin to think my own senses are becoming disordered!” she complained. “If this is neither your house nor Mrs. Macclesfield’s, whose, pray, is it?”
“My cousin’s.”
“Your cousin’s! But I cannot remain here!” she cried. “You cannot mean to keep me here, sir!”
“Certainly not. It would be quite ineligible,” he said, and left the room.