Free Faro's Daughter by Georgette Heyer

have!’
    ‘Yes, love,’ said Lady Bellingham, without much hope. ‘We both of us had that notion when we laid five hundred guineas on Jack-Come-Tickle-Me at the Newmarket races, but it turned out otherwise.’
    ‘Well,’ said Miss Grantham, thrusting all the bills into one of the drawers of a small writing-table by the window, ‘I have a very good mind to back Mr Ravenscar to win his curricle race against Sir James Filey. He was offering odds at five to one on himself.’
    ‘What is all this?’ demanded Lady Bellingham. ‘Lucius did say something about an absurd bet, but I was not attending.’
    ‘Oh, Sir James was being as odious as ever, and it seems he was beaten in a race against Ravenscar six months ago, and is as wild as fire to come about again. The long and the short of it is that Ravenscar offered to run against him when and where he chose for a stake of five thousand pounds. And as though that were not enough, he laid odds at five to one against Sir James! He must be very sure of himself.’
    ‘But that is twenty-five thousand pounds!’ exclaimed Lad Bellingham, who had been doing some rapid multiplication
    ‘If he loses!’
    ‘I never heard of anything so provoking!’ declared he ladyship. ‘If he has twenty-five thousand pounds to lose, pray why could he not do so at my faro-bank? But so it is always Men have never the least spark of consideration for anything but their own pleasure. Well, I recall that his father was a very disagreeable, selfish kind of a man, and I dare say the son is no better.’
    Miss Grantham returned no answer to this. Her aunt, was satisfied with her appearance, picked up a pot of Serkis rouge and began to apply this aid to beauty with a ruthless hand. ‘It is the oddest thing,’ she remarked, ‘but all the richest men at the most odious creatures imaginable! Only think of Filey, and now Ravenscar!’
    ‘Good God, ma’am, you cannot mean to couple Mr Ravenscar with that vile man.’ cried Miss Grantham, flushing a little.
    Lady Bellingham set the rouge-pot down. ‘Deb, never say you have taken a fancy to Ravenscar?’ she exclaimed. ‘I would be the most wonderful thing if he could be got to offer for you, but I have been thinking it over, my dear, and believe it won’t answer. He is turned thirty-five, and has new asked any female to marry him that I ever heard of. Besides, he is said to be abominably close, and that would not do for us all.’
    ‘Offer for me indeed! Of course he won’t, or I accept him believe me, aunt! And as for fancies—pooh, what nonsense I liked him for taking Sir James up so swiftly, and for something about him that was different from all those other met but he was quite rude to me, you know. I am very sure he despises me for presiding at gaming-tables. I cannot conceive what should have brought him to the house, unless it was to see what kind of a harpy his cousin had fallen in love with.’
    ‘Oh dear!’ sighed Lady Bellingham. ‘I daresay that would be it! We shall have him whisking poor Adrian off, and then, shall have no one but Ormskirk to fall back upon.’
    Miss Grantham laughed. ‘He may whisk him off with my good-will, I assure you, ma’am, but he seemed to me much lit a sensible man, and will no doubt have seen that the foolish boy will come to no harm in this house. Why, I will not even permit him to put down a rouleau of above ten guineas at a time!’
    ‘No,’ said her ladyship regretfully. ‘And he is not at all a lucky punter. It does seem a pity, my love.’
    ‘Now, you know very well, ma’am, you don’t wish to be plucking schoolboys!’ Deborah said, laying an arm about her aunt’s shoulders.
    Lady Bellingham agreed to this, but without much conviction. A small black page scratched on the door for admittance, and announced that Massa Kennet was below-stairs. Deborah kissed her aunt, recommended her not to worry her head over the bills, and went off to join this friend of her childhood in the small back-room