His deep–set eyes gravely considered her daintiness. 'Are you quite without pity?' he asked her. 'I wonder sometimes. And is there no constancy in you either? You were so taken with the lad when first we saw him in Barbados that nothing would content you until I had bought him so that you might make of him your groom and lavish favours on him only to — '
Her whip crashed down on the table to interrupt him. 'I'll listen to no more of this. It's cowardly always to browbeat and bully me, and put me in the wrong. But I shall know what to do another time. I'll lay my whip across that rogue's smug face. That will teach him to leer at me.'
'It will be worthy,' was the bitter comment. 'It will be brave, towards an unfortunate who must bear whatever comes lest worse should follow.'
But she was no longer listening. The stroke of her whip had scattered some of the letters heaped upon the table. Her attention was sharply diverted.
'Has a packet come from England?' Her breathing seemed to quicken as he watched her.
'I spoke, I think, of the King's business. Here you see it. At the breakfast–table.'
She was already rummaging through the heap, scanning each package in turn. 'Are there letters for me?'
It was a second or two before his suddenly compressed lips parted again to reply evasively: 'I haven't seen all of them yet.'
She continued her search, whilst he watched her from under his brows. At the end she looked at him again.
'Nothing?' she asked, on a note of surprised, aggrieved inquiry. Her brows were knit, her delicate chin seemed to grow more pointed. 'Nothing?'