“I do not feel very polite. If you cam to untie my ankles, however, I will engage to offer you my chair.”
Miss Grantham looked rather distressed. “Indeed, I fear you must be very uncomfortable,” she owned.
“I am.”
“Well, I do not see what harm there can be in setting your legs free,” she decided, and knelt down on the stone floor to wrestle with Silas Wantage’s knots. “Oh dear, they have bound you shockingly tightly!”
“I am well aware of that, ma’am.”
She looked up. “It is of no use to sound so cross. I dare say you would like to murder me, but you should not have tried to threaten me. It was very ungentlemanly of you, let me tell you; and if you thought I could be so easily frightened into giving up your cousin, you see now how mistaken you were! I have brought you here to get that mortgage and those dreadful bills from you.”
He laughed shortly. “You have missed the mark, Miss Grantham. I don’t carry them upon my person.”
“Oh no! But you can write a letter to your servants, directing them to place the bills in a messenger’s hands,” she pointed out.
He looked down at her bent head. “My good girl, you’ve mistaken your man! Bring on your thumbscrew and your rack! You will get nothing out of me.”
She tugged at the knot. “I don’t mean you the least harm, sir, I assure you. No one will hurt you in this house. Only you will not leave it until those bills are in my hands.”
“Evidently my stay in your cellar is to be a prolonged one.”
“Oh, I hardly think so!” she said, her eyes glinting up at him for an instant. “I have not forgotten, if you have, that you are driving in an important race tomorrow.”
He stiffened, his mouth shutting hard. She pulled the last knot undone, and stood up. “I trust you are more at ease now, sir,” she said kindly. “But I am persuaded you will not languish for very long in this horrid cellar. So noted a sportsman as Mr Ravenscar will scarcely let it be said of him that he dared not match his famous greys against Sir James Filey’s pair: After such a prodigious bet, too!”
“You doxy!” he said deliberately.
She flushed, but shrugged her shoulders. “Calling hard names won’t help you, Mr Ravenscar. You stand to lose twenty-five thousand pounds on tomorrow’s race.”
“What do you think I care for that?” he demanded harshly.
“Not very much, perhaps. I think you care a good deal your reputation, and will not readily lose by default.”
“You may go to the devil!” he said.
“You cannot have considered your position, Mr Ravenscar. No one but myself, and Lucius Kennet, and Silas, knows your whereabouts. If you think to be rescued, you will be disappointed. There is nothing for you to do but to agree to terms.”
“You may have those bills when, and when only, I am satisfied that my cousin has no longer any intention of marrying you,” said Ravenscar. “There is no pressure you can bring bear on me that could prevail upon me to yield one inch such a Jezebel as you are!”
“I feel sure you will change your mind when you have time to reflect, sir. Only fancy how odious Sir James would be if you failed to keep your appointment tomorrow. I do think that a man of your pride could bear that!”
“More easily than to be worsted by a jade, ma’am!” he retorted, stretching his long legs out before him, and crossing his ankles. “You will find it very inconvenient to keep me in you cellar indefinitely, I imagine, but I must warn you that I have not the smallest intention of leaving it, except upon my terms.”
“But you cannot let the race go like that!” cried Deb aghast.
“Oh, have you backed me to win?” he said mockingly. “Which is much the worse for you, my girl!”
“No, I have not, and I do not care if you win or lose!” so Deborah. “There is nothing that you can do that I care for the least, for I find you beneath contempt! But this is foolish and you know it!”
“I can see that it is very inconvenient folly,” he agreed maddeningly cool.
She stamped her foot. “You will have the whole town sneering at you!”
“I will bear that for the pleasure of seeing you in Bridewell.”
“You will not see me in Bridewell!” she retorted. “Do not imagine that I did not take that into account when I had you kidnapped! You may be poltroon enough to threaten a female with ruin, but you are a great deal too stiff-necked to admit to the world that you were done-up by a female, and locked him a cellar, and kept there by her!”
“How well you think you know me!” said Ravenscar.
She checked the hot words that rose to her tongue, and picked up the branch of candles. “I will leave you to reflect,” she said coldly. “When you have thought the matter over, you will no doubt see it in another light.”
“Don’t raise your hopes, ma’am! I can be quite as obstinate as you.” He watched her ironically, as she moved towards the door. “Why did you refuse my first offer?” he asked abruptly.
She looked back, magnificent in her scorn. “Yes! You thought I could be bought off, did you not, Mr Ravenscar? You thought you had only to dangle your money-bags before my eyes, and I should be dazzled! Well, I was not dazzled, and I would not touch one penny of your money!”
“If that is so, why am I here?” he inquired.
“The mortgage and those bills are different,” she replied impatiently.
He looked amused. “So it seems.”
“Besides, they are not mine, but my aunt’s.”
“Then why worry about them?”
“You have a very pretty opinion of me, I declare!” she exclaimed. “Not only am I the kind of abominable wretch who would entrap a—” She broke off in some confusion, and said hurriedly: “But there is no talking to you, after all! I shall marry your cousin whenever I choose, and I shall get the mortgage too, and you are at liberty to call me what names you like, for I do not care a button!”
Mr Ravenscar, on whom the first part of this speech had not been lost, sat up, frowning heavily. “Now, what the devil are you playing at, Miss Grantham? So you are not the kind of abominable wretch who would entrap a boy into marriage? Then why in God’s name—”
“Certainly not!” Miss Grantham said, making desperate efforts to retrieve her slip. “There is no question of entrapping Adrian! He is quite devoted to me, I assure you! You will find it very hard to persuade him to give me up.”
“I do not propose to make the attempt,” he replied. “I rely upon you to do that.”
“I have no notion of doing it. I have a fancy to be my Lady Mablethorpe.”
“To which end, I suppose, you assumed the manners of a trollop at Vauxhall the other night!”
She bit her lip. “Oh, I did that merely to make you angry! I thought it would do you a great deal of good to see how a harpy might behave!”
“So that rankled, did it?” he said, smiling rather grimly. “I still say you are a harpy, Miss Grantham.”
“If I were, I would have closed with your obliging offer!”
“I fancy you nourished hopes of getting more from me than twenty thousand pounds,” he said. “Was not your behaviour at Vauxhall designed to convince me that no price would be too great to pay for my unfortunate cousin’s redemption?”
She showed him a white face, and very glittering eyes. “If I were a man,” she said in a shaking voice, “I would run you through!”
“There is nothing to stop you doing so now, if you can borrow a sword,” he replied.
Miss Grantham swept out of the cellar, too angry to speak, and slammed and locked the door behind her.
Her interview with the prisoner had not followed the lines she had planned, and although she told herself that a period of reflection must bring Ravenscar to his senses, she could not help feeling a considerable degree of uneasiness. There was a look in his eyes, a stubborn jut to his chin, which held out no promise of his weakening. If he really did refuse to capitulate, she would find herself in the most awkward predicament, fox not only would it be impossible to keep him bound up in the cellar, but every instinct rebelled against putting her threat into action, and keeping him from his appointment on the morrow. Miss Grantham was too much a gamester herself to regard with anything but horror a failure to make good a wager.