It was no wonder that his gloomy stare had made her uncomfortable.

She tried to reassure herself by the consideration that if he had discovered anything, he would surely have been far grumpier with her; he would never have confined himself to a gloomy stare.
She had just finished cutting the bread and butter when the latchkey of the Honourable John Ruffin grated in the keyhole.
She stepped to the kitchen door; and as he entered she said: "Please, sir, the duke's here." The Honourable John Ruffin showed no surprise; he only said: "Ah, he must be wanting me to do something for him.

I told you that he would warm to me when he did." "Yes, sir.

But, please sir, he doesn't look very warm yet," said Pollyooly doubtfully.
"He never does.

It runs in the family--the Osterley chill.