Faro's Daughter (9 page)

The butler silently held out the salver he was carrying. Miss Grantham picked up the visiting-card on it, and read in astonishment its simple legend. Mr Max Ravenscar ran the flowing script, in coldly engraved letters.

Chapter 5

Mr Ravenscar was standing by the window in the Yellow Saloon, looking out. He was dressed in topboot; and leather breeches, with a spotted cravat round his throat and a drab-coloured driving-coat with several shoulder-cape reached to his calves. He turned, as Miss Grantham entered, the room, and she saw that some spare whip-lashes were thru; through one of his buttonholes, and that he was carrying a pair of driving-gloves of York tan.

‘Good morning,’ he said, coming a few paces to meet her, ‘Do you care to drive round the Park, Miss Grantham?’

‘Drive round the Park?’ she repeated, in a surprised tone.

‘Yes, why not? I am exercising my greys, and came here to beg the honour of your company.’

She was conscious of a strong inclination to go with hint but said foolishly: ‘But I am not dressed to go out!’

‘I imagine that might be mended.’

‘True, but—’ She broke off, and raised her eyes to his face, ‘Why do you ask me?’ she asked bluntly.

‘Why, from what I saw here last night, ma’am, it would appear to be impossible to be private with you under the roof.’

‘Do you wish to be private with me, Mr Ravenscar?’

‘Very much.’

She was aware of a most odd sensation, as though a obstruction had leapt suddenly into her throat on purpose to choke her. Her knees felt unaccountably weak, and she knew that she was blushing. ‘But you barely know me!’ she manage to say.

‘That is another circumstance that can be mended. Come Miss Grantham, give me the pleasure of your company, I beg of you!’

She said with a little difficulty: ‘You are very good. Indeed I should like to! But I must change my dress, and you will not care to keep your horses standing.’

‘You will observe, if you glance out of this window, that my groom is walking them up and down.’

‘You leave me nothing to say, sir. Grant me ten minute grace, and I will gladly drive out with you.’

He nodded, and moved to open the door for her. She glanced up at him under her lashes as she passed him and was once more baffled by his expression. He was the strangest creature! Too many men had been attracted to her for her to fail to recognize the particular warm look in a man’s eyes when they fell upon the woman of his fancy. It was not in Mr Ravenscar’s eyes; but if he had not fallen a victim to her charms what in the world possessed him to invite her to drive out with him?

It did not take her long to change her chintz gown for a walking dress. A green bonnet with an upstanding poke, and several softly curling ostrich plumes, admirably framed her face, and set off the glory of her chestnut locks. She was conscious of looking her best, and hoped that Mr Ravenscar would think that she did him credit.

Lady Bellingham, informed of the proposed expedition, wavered between elation and a doubt that her niece ought not to drive out alone with a gentleman she had met but once before in her life; but the obvious advantages of Deborah’s fixing Mr Ravenscar’s interest soon outweighed all other considerations. Lucius Kennet chose to be amused, and to quiz Miss Grantham unmercifully on having made such an important conquest, but she answered him quite crossly, telling him it was no such thing, and that she thought such jests extremely vulgar.

It was consequently with a slightly heightened colour that she presently rejoined Ravenscar in the Yellow Saloon. Glancing critically at her, he was obliged to admit that she was a magnificent creature. He accompanied her downstairs to the front door, where they were met by Kennet, who came lounging across the hall to see them off.

Ravenscar and he exchanged a few civilities, and the groom led the greys up to the door. Mr Kennet inspected them with a knowledgeable eye, while Ravenscar gave Miss Grantham his hand to assist her to mount into the curricle, and said that he should back them to beat Filey’s pair.

They were, indeed, beautiful animals, standing a little over fifteen hands, with small heads, broad chests and thighs, powerful quarters, and good, arched necks.

‘Ah, I’ll wager they are sweet goers!’ Mr Kennet said, passing a hand over one satin neck.

‘Yes,’ Ravenscar acknowledged. ‘They are beautiful steppers.’

He got up into the curricle, while the groom still stood to the greys’ heads, and spread a rug over Miss Grantham’s knees. Taking his whip in his hand, and lightly feeling his horses’ mouths, he nodded to the groom. ‘I shan’t need you,’ he said briefly. ‘Servant, Mr Kennet.’

Both the groom and Kennet stepped back, and the greys, which were restive, plunged forward on the kidney-stones that paved the square.

‘Don’t be alarmed!’ Ravenscar told Miss Grantham. ‘They are only a little fresh.’

‘I wonder you can hold them so easily!’ she confessed, repressing an instinctive desire to clutch the side of the curricle.

He smiled, but returned no answer. They swept round the corner into King Street, turned westwards, and bowled along in the direction of St James’s Street.

There was sufficient traffic abroad to keep Mr Ravenscar’s attention fixed on his task, for the greys, though perfectly well-mannered, chose to take high-bred exception to a wagon which was rumbling along at the side of the road, to shy playfully at a sedan, to regard with sudden misgiving a lady’s feathered hat, and to decide that the lines of white posts, linked with chains, that separated the footpaths from the kennels and the road, menaced them with a hitherto unsuspected danger. But the gates leading into Hyde Park were reached without mishap, and once within them the greys settled into a fine, forward action, satisfied, apparently, to find themselves in surroundings more suited to their birth and lineage.

There were several other equipages in the Park, including some phaetons, and a number of barouches. Mr Ravenscar touched his hat every now and then to acquaintances, but presently, drawing away from the other vehicles, he was able to turn his attention to his companion.

‘Are you comfortable, Miss Grantham?’

‘Very. Your carriage is beautifully sprung. Do you drive it in your race?’

‘Oh, no! I have an especially built racing-curricle for that.

‘Shall you win?’ she asked, looking up at him with a slight smile.

‘I hope so. Do you mean to hazard your money on my greys?’

‘Oh, I must certainly do so! But I have never the least luck, I must tell you, and shall very likely bring you bad fortune.’

‘I am not afraid of that. Your luck was out last night, but I hope you may come about again.’

‘That is very pretty of you, Mr Ravenscar, but I fear it was my skill rather than my luck which was at fault,’ she owned.

‘Perhaps.’ He looped his rein dexterously as the greys overtook a gig, and let it run free again as they shot past. ‘It is to be hoped that your ill-luck is not consistent. It would surely be disastrous to the success of your delightful establishment if this were so.’

‘It would indeed,’ she agreed somewhat ruefully. ‘The world is too apt to imagine, however, that a gaming-house must be a source of enormous wealth to its proprietors.’

‘I collect that this is not so, Miss Grantham?’

‘By no means.’

He turned to look down at her, saying with the abruptness which she found disconcerting: ‘Are you in debt, Miss Grantham?’

She was quite taken aback, and did not answer for a moment. She said then, in a stiffened voice: ‘What prompts you to ask me such a question, sir?’

‘That is no answer,’ he pointed out.

‘I know of no reason why I should give you one.’

‘I should have set your scruples at rest at the outset by informing you that I am not entirely ignorant of your circumstances,’ he said.

She regarded him in astonishment. ‘I cannot conceive how you should know anything about my circumstances, sir!’

‘You—or should I say your amiable aunt?—are in debt to Lord Ormskirk.’

‘I suppose he told you so,’ she said in a mortified tone. ‘On the contrary, my young cousin told me.’

‘Adrian told you?’ she exclaimed. ‘You must be mistaken.

Adrian knows nothing of Lord Ormskirk’s dealings with my aunt!’

He reined in his horses to a walk. He thought her a remarkably good actress, but her artlessness irritated him, and it was with a sardonic inflexion that he said: ‘It is you who are mistaken, Miss Grantham. Mablethorpe seemed to me to be singularly well-informed.’

‘Who told him?’ she demanded.

He raised his brows. ‘You would have preferred him to remain in ignorance of your indebtedness to Lord Ormskirk? Well, I can appreciate that.’

‘I should prefer everyone to remain in ignorance of it!’ she said hotly. ‘Am I to understand that Ormskirk took your cousin into his confidence? I must tell you that I find it incredible!’

‘No, I apprehend that your friend, Mr Kennet, was the source of my cousin’s information.’

She bit her lip, and was silent for a few moments, a good deal discomfited. When she spoke again, it was with studied lightness. ‘Well! And if this is so I do not immediately perceive why you should interest yourself in the matter, Mr Ravenscar.’

‘I might help you out of your difficulties.’

She suffered from a momentary dread that he was about to make her a dishonourable proposal, and gripped her hands together in her lap. It would not be the first time she had been the recipient of such proposals; she was aware that her position in her aunt’s house laid her open to such attacks, and had never permitted herself to receive them in the tragic manner, rather turning them off with a laugh and a jest, but she found herself desperately hoping that Mr Ravenscar was not going to prove himself to be just like other men. Then she recalled the hard light in his eyes, and felt so sure that whatever his motive might be it was not amorous that she dared to ask: ‘Why?’

‘What would you wish me to reply?’ he inquired. ‘I will endeavour to oblige you, but the truth is that I am no fencer.’

She was by now quite bewildered, and said in as blunt a manner as his own: ‘I don’t understand you! We met for the first time last night, and I did not suppose that—in short, I fancied that you were much inclined to dislike me, sir! Yet today you tell me that you might help me out of what you call my difficulties!’

‘Under certain circumstances, Miss Grantham.’

‘Indeed! And what circumstances are these?’

‘You must be as well aware of them as I am myself,’ he said. ‘I am perfectly willing to be more explicit, however. I am prepared to recompense you handsomely, ma’am, for whatever disappointment you may suffer from the relinquishment of all pretensions to my cousin’s hand and heart.’

She had been so much in the habit of regarding Lord Mablethorpe’s infatuation for her as an absurdity that this forthright speech fell upon her ears with stunning effect. She was quite unable to speak for several moments. A tumult of emo6on swelled her bosom, and her brain seethed with a jumble of thoughts. The deepest chagrin battled with a furious desire to slap Mr Ravenscar’s face, to assure him, without mincing her words, that she would rather die a spinster than marry his cousin, and, after telling him her opinion of his manners, morals, and abysmal stupidity, to demand to be set down instantly. A strong inclination to burst into tears accompanied these more violent ambitions, and was followed almost immediately by a resolve to punish Mr Ravenscar in the most vindictive way open to her, and a perfectly irrational determination to show him that she was every bit as bad as he imagined her to be, if not worse. To relinquish her pretensions, as he had the insolence to call them, to Lord Mablethorpe’s hand and heart for the mere asking, was no way of punishing him. She perceived that she must forgo the pleasure of slapping his face. Overcoming the constriction in her throat, she said, with very tolerable command over her voice: ‘Pray, what do you think a handsome recompense, Mr Ravenscar?’