He raised his brows. “Ah,” said he, “I appear, then, to have misapprehended the situation. From what Gervase told me, I understood it was your brother forced you to return.”
“Not forced, sir,” she answered him.
“Induced, then,” said he. “It but remains me to induce you to repair what I think was a mistake.”
She shook her head. “I have returned home for good,” said she.
“You'll pardon me,” said he, “that I am so egotistical as to prefer Zoyland Chase to Lupton House. Despite the manifold attractions of the latter, I do not intend to take up my abode here.”
“You are not asked to.”
“What, then?”
She hated him for the smile, for his masterful air, which seemed to imply that he humoured her because he scorned to use authority, but that when he did use it, hers must it be to obey him. Again she felt that everlasting calm, arguing such latent forces, was the thing she hated most in him.
“I think I had best be plain with you,” said she. “I have fulfilled my part of the bargain that we made. I intend to do no more. I promised that if you spared my brother, I would go to the altar with you to-day. I have carried out my contract to the letter. It is at an end.”
“Indeed,” said he; “I think it has not yet begun.” He advanced towards her, and took her hand. She yielded it, unwilling though she was. “This is unworthy of you, madam,” said he, his tone grave and deferential. “You think to escape fulfilling the spirit of your bargain by adhering to the letter of it. Not so,” he ended, and shook his head, smiling gently. “The carriage is still at your door. You return with me to Zoyland Chase to take possession of your home.”