Lady Polly
by
Nicola Comick

garden, her two small cats, her husband and her writing, though not
necessarily in that order!  She has always been fascinated by history,
both as her chosen subject at university and subsequently as an
engrossing hobby.

She works as a university administrator and finds her writing the
perfect antidote to the demands of life in a busy office.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE LARKS WOOD INHERITANCE THE VIRTUOUS CYPRIAN

LADY POLLY

Nicola Comickdypolly

MILLS &- B 0 0 N <

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Manufacturing Ltd, Glasgow Prologue QnyQ 1812 You're a damned fool.
Henry!  " Simon Verey leant on the table and addressed his friend in
tones that would have led Henry March night to call him out under any
other circumstances.

"Leave it a few weeks--a month, even--for everyone to lose interest in
Miss Jacques's vicious rum ours!  If you go to Lady Paulersbury's rout
tonight, they'll make mincemeat of you!"

Lord Henry's only response was a rather lopsided grin as he tilted his
head to consider the intricate folds of his violet cravat in the
mirror.

"The Napoleon," he mused.

"Rather a neat style, don't you think, Simon?

Languishing and romantic, as is appropriate for this evening!  Do you
think that it will bring me the luck of the French?  " "In love or in
war?"  Verey asked drily.

Lord Henry's only reply was another smile.

"I regret that I cannot take your advice, Simon," he continued.

"I must see Lady Polly Sea grave tonight.

I am hoping that I may still persuade her to consent to be my wife.  "
Verey's lips tightened.  He had seen that reckless look in his friend's
grey eyes before and knew it promised trouble.  There was something
both tense and watchful about Lord Henry's elegantly clad form, some
element held under the barest control.  And Verey understood his
desperation, but he thought Henry had miscalculated.

"They'll never let you near her," he prophesied grimly.

"Good God, the whole Town thinks that you have tried to debauch Miss
Jacques, then proposed marriage to Lady Polly for her fortune only a
day later!

You'll be ripped to pieces.  Henry!"

Lord Henry shrugged.

"Lady Polly would never believe such a thing of me, Simon.  I know she
would have accepted my suit had the Earl not refused to countenance
it!"

Verey shook his head.  What madness could have possessed Lord Henry to
ask the starchy old Earl of Sea grave for his daughter's hand in
marriage whilst such un savoury, albeit untrue, rum ours were being
circulated?  He must have known that the Earl was so high in the instep
that he would never sanction a match between his only daughter and a
man who had been branded a philanderer and deceiver.

With its usual appetite for scandal.  Society had been quick to seize
upon the accusations of Miss Sally Jacques that Henry March night had
promised her marriage and then attempted to seduce her.  Verey knew
that Miss Jacques was the daughter of a Cit who had attempted to
establish herself amongst the ton and whose disappointment at being
unable to bring Henry up to scratch had led to this ill-considered
revenge.

 Verey also knew that most of Society thought Miss Jacques an ill-bred
mushroom and that interest in the story would wane very swiftly.  If
only Henry had exercised his usual cool detachment!  But in his very
real passion for Lady Polly Sea grave he seemed uncharacteristically
hasty, unable to wait even a few days for matters to cool.  Simon was
prepared to support his friend, but he was certain that the evening
would be deeply unenjoyable.

Their reception at Lady Paulersbury's was everything Verey had
predicted and worse.  Silence fell as Lord Henry March night was
announced.  Men whom he had counted his friends pointedly turned their
backs.  Some women whispered maliciously behind their fans, whilst
others drew aside from him with disgusted expressions.  There was a
moment when Lord Henry was certain Lord Paulersbury was about to have
him horsewhipped from the house before his wife's more temperate
counsel prevailed.  But he was treated as a social pariah, ignored or
ridiculed, and it was a profoundly unpleasant and uncomfortable
experience.

Lady Polly Sea grave saw Lord Henry's tall figure across the ballroom
and was immediately certain that he had come to seek her out.  She
caught her breath.

To have dared so much public opprobrium, just for the chance of speech
with her!  He must know that her father had forbidden them to meet and
the entire Town was reviling him over the scandal of Miss Jacques.

Polly burned with outraged fury at the treatment Sally Jacques had
meted out to Lord Henry.  Sally and Polly had once been friends, before
Miss Jacques's jealousy at Lord Henry's partiality for Polly had
driven a wedge between them.  Sally had contrived that her carriage had
broken down in the vicinity of Lord Henry's home at Ruth ford and had
imposed on his hospitality overnight so that she had compromised them
both.  In vain had Lord Henry argued that Miss Jacques's companion and
his own servants had provided ample chaperonage and that nothing
untoward had occurred.  Public opinion, carefully encouraged by Miss
Jacques and her chaperon with their hints at false proposals and
attempted seduction, was firmly of the belief that he should have made
her an offer.  His refusal to do so proved him to be no gentleman.  It
was not long before the true facts of the case had been turned inside
out and Henry March night was denounced as a scoundrel and seducer.

A few days before, when Polly had heard the harmful gossip repeated by
two salacious matrons, she had burst out that it was all malicious
lies.

Immediately their watchful gaze had turned thoughtfully on her.  Her
mother had pulled Polly to one side.

"Be quiet, you silly girl!"  Lady Sea grave had hissed in Polly's
ear.

"You will have them thinking that Lord Henry has debauched you too!"

"Lord Henry has not debauched anyone!"  Polly had muttered furiously,
but she kept her voice discreetly low for all her vehemence.

"He is an honourable man!"

For a moment Lady Sea grave had looked almost sorry for her daughter.

"Lord Henry may be as honourable as you please, but no one will believe
it now!

And that is because they do not want to believe it, for the tale is so
much more interesting than the truth.

 So you will be a good girl and have no more to do with him!  " For a
moment Polly had looked mutinous.  Lord Henry had always behaved as a
perfect gentleman towards her.  She was more than half in love with
him.

But she had already had her father explain, very clearly and kindly,
just why he could not entertain Lord Henry's suit.  And Polly was only
eighteen, and accustomed to obeying her parents unquestioningly in
everything.  And now Lady Sea grave had caught her arm, turning her
away so that Lord Henry's curiously compelling grey gaze could no
longer disturb her so.

"You must not acknowledge him," she murmured, whilst keeping a spurious
social smile fixed on her face for the benefit of those about them who
were watching with a keen interest.

Polly knew her mother was only acting with the best of intentions.  A
young lady's good name was so fragile and scandal so contaminating. She
had seen how a reputation could become so tarnished that a girl would
become quite unmarriageable.  But she was torn by her burgeoning
feelings for Lord Henry.

She had never been in love before and he had wooed her throughout the
Season, so gently, so carefully.  His attentions had never overstepped
the mark and when he smiled at her with all the warmth and tenderness
that spoke more clearly than any words, Polly felt deliciously safe and
cherished.

She reluctantly allowed her mother to shepherd her away, but could not
resist a quick glance over her shoulder.  Lord Henry was still watching
her.  Polly gave a pleasurable little shiver of excitement, but at the
same time a fris son of nerves prompted her to hope that he would not
make a scene or press his attentions on her.  That would be deliciously
romantic but rather difficult to handle.  Polly was not at all sure
that she could cope with impassioned protestations of love.

It was much later in the evening when Lord Henry finally managed to get
Polly on her own.  Throughout the ball, she had been aware of his
presence, the deceptively casual way in which he was watching her all
the time.  But she was never left alone.  Lady Sea- grave, a very
dragon of propriety where her only daughter was concerned, seemed to
follow her everywhere until Polly told her with asperity that she was
quite capable of visiting the ladies' withdrawing room alone.

It was on her way back that Lord Henry seized his chance, materialising
in the deserted corridor and drawing her into an empty room before
Polly even had time to catch her breath.  It was vastly exciting, but
also rather frightening.  There was something driven about Lord Henry
that evening, Polly thought, something so resolute that it made her
quail and find him almost a stranger.  She was not accustomed to strong
emotion.  The Sea grave household was run with apparent harmony and the
Earl would never have countenanced any vulgar display of feeling.

Polly knew very little about love; she loved her parents with a dutiful
respect, and knew, far more scandalously, that her brothers had both at
one time or another had in keeping certain ladies on whom they lavished
their affections.  That, Polly had once overheard her mother darkly
telling another matron, had very little to do with love at all.  And
here was Lord Henry March night, burning with another type of romantic
passion.  His intensity frightened her.

"Lord Henry!"  Polly's voice trembled a little.

"You know my father has forbidden me to speak with you--' He took both
her hands in his, his intent grey gaze fixed on her face.

"I

know it!  But I had to see you!  You know that he has refused my suit,
but we cannot let that make us part!  Come away with me, my love!  If
you will trust yourself to me--' But Polly had taken a hasty step back,
freeing her hands from his grasp.

She had paled visibly, her cheeks as white as the pristine foulard at
her throat.  "Run away with you?  But--' " You must know that I love
you!  Say you'll marry me!  " For a moment Polly wavered.  He was
taking her by storm, so ardent, so impassioned that she was tempted.
But her feelings were barely awakened and everything in her upbringing
conspired against him.  His very ardour alienated her.  He knew, a
moment before she recoiled, that she was going to refuse him.

"Oh, no, indeed I could not!  My father ... the scandal... only
think--' Polly's eyes were huge with the horror of it.  She broke off
at the expression on Lord Henry's face, suddenly aware that she might
have been a little precipitate.  Those grey eyes, so warm and tender
before, were now so stony and withdrawn that Polly bit her lip.  It was
like looking into the face of a complete stranger.

The tears came into her eyes.  She had a sudden conviction that she had
just carelessly thrown away something infinitely precious, without
truly under standing exactly what it was.  She put out a tentative
hand, but Lord Henry was already turning away.

"Polly!"  The awesome tones were those of Lady Sea grave, who stood in
the shadows, furious fire kindling in her dark eyes.

"Come here at once!  I knew I could not trust you on your own!  And as
for you, sir--' She turned on Lord Henry, but he was already leaving.
He sketched an immaculately elegant bow, first to the Countess and then
to Polly.

"You need have no fears for your daughter at my hands, ma'am," he said,
his tone one of frigid courtesy.

"I give you my word that I shall never approach her again."  And he was
gone, leaving Polly with the comfort of her familiar world and a
totally unfamiliar feeling of desolation in her heart.

Chapter One QysQ 1817 Sir Godfrey Or bison did not understand women.

Never having entered the bond of matrimony and being devoid of close
female relatives to guide him, he was ill-equipped to deal with a
goddaughter he considered to be both foolish and ungrateful.

"You refused him because you did not love him?"  Sir Godfrey's black
brows beetled together and he glared fiercely at Lady Polly Sea grave,
his tone incredulous.

"What is that to the purpose, pray?  A fine situation if one had to
love one's intended spouse!  The material point is that he is heir to
the Duke of Bel lars, and as such must be a better prospect than life
as a penniless spinster!  Aye, and a spinster who is fast approaching
her dotage!"

The Dowager Countess of Sea grave was fluttering her hands in distress,
but Lady Polly allowed herself a small smile, her elusive dimples
peeping for a moment.  She knew her godfather's ill temper would not
last long for he was incapable of bearing a grudge and was so fond of
her that she could get away with most things.  Turning down her fifth
suitor of the Season and the nineteenth eligible proposal of her life
was, however, testing his indulgence to the full.  And he was her
trustee, along with her elder brother, and as such could cut up rough
about her allowance if he chose.  In eighteen months she would be
twenty-five and should be mistress of her own fortune, but if Sir
Godfrey chose to make her a penniless spinster, it was within his legal
powers to do so.  Clearly some tact and charm was called for.

She dropped a small curtsy and smiled at her godfather beguilingly.

"Dearest Sir Godfrey, you have been like a father to me since my own
papa died, and I do thank you for all your guidance and advice!  But I
am persuaded that you could not really wish me to marry John Bel lars!
He is a pleasant enough man, if as dull as ditch water, but it is old
Lady Bel lars who would be the rub!  Why, she has him completely under
her thumb and is the most mean-spirited woman--' " Humph!  " Sir
Godfrey opined.

"And she is penny-pinching, too!"  The Dowager Countess of Sea grave
put in, hastily improving on her daughter's theme.

"I hear she keeps young John on a tight rein, for all that she has no
real control over his fortune!

And," she added artfully, with a flash of her dark eyes, 'was it not
Augusta Bel lars who tried to snare you in your salad days, Godfrey?
She pursued you quite violently, as I recall!  They were taking bets in
the clubs that she would catch you!"

Sir Godfrey's choleric gaze kindled again.

"Gussie Grantley!  Yes, b" God, I'd forgotten that!  Tiresome woman,
forever wheedling herself into my company, telling everyone there was
an understanding between us!  Well.  " he sighed heavily, 'can't be
doing with that connection in the family, then.  Why, she might view
this as a second chance to catch me!"

"It is not to be contemplated!"  The Dowager declared, smiling as much
with genuine amusement as relief.  The thought of the widowed Duchess
of Bel lars pursuing the elderly Sir Godfrey afforded her much secret
amusement.  In her experience, men often had a much-inflated view of
their own attractions.

Sir Godfrey's gaze had fallen on Polly again, demurely sitting with her
chin in her hand smiling at him.  Fond of her as he was, he was obliged
to view her as another example of an unsatisfactory female.

"All the same, Poll, this won't do, you know!  Nineteen suitors, all
worthy men, and not one of them up to your expectations!"  Sir Godfrey
cleared his throat, intent on delivering a homily.

"I thought that you would take Julian Morrish when he offered this
Season--damned... harrumph!  Dashed silly not to!  No better man in the
whole of London!  And Sea grave took Morrish's rejection that badly, I
know..."

The Dowager Lady Sea grave cleared her throat delicately.  She had been
quick to see her daughter's discomfort, for the colour had come rushing
into Polly's ivory complexion, making her look suddenly more animated
and much prettier.  That was how she used to look.  Lady Sea grave
thought with a sudden pang of regret, remembering a time five years
before, when her daughter had been a bright and vivacious debutante
rather than a cool and withdrawn young lady with a reputation for
pride.  The young Lady Polly had been an appealing girl, drawing quite
a following to her with her lustrous cloud of dark hair and expressive
brown eyes.  She had not lacked for offers, but none of them seemed to
meet her exacting standards.  No man in five years had been able to
persuade her of the merit of his suit.

As for Julian Morrish, that had indeed been an unfortunate affair and
one which had caused ill feeling within the family for several weeks
until Lucille, the Dowager's daughter-in-law, had interceded with her
husband to forgive Polly.  Nick Sea grave had been furious that his
close friend, Julian Morrish, had been rejected by his sister. Everyone
knew Morrish to be a fine man and one to whom no possible objection
could be made on the grounds of rank, consequence, fortune or
reputation.  Polly's behaviour had put a great strain on the friendship
between Sea grave and Morrish, and an even greater strain on
relationships within the family.  Polly's other brother, Peter, had
strolled into the breakfast-room one morning and remarked that he would
rather face the French again at Waterloo than be the butt of his
brother and sister's ill humour.

"I think, perhaps, that it would be wise for Polly to retire for a
little now.  Sir Godfrey," the Dowager Countess said hastily, seeing
that her daughter's colour was still high.

"We go to Lady Phillips's rid otto tonight, and you know how Polly
tires easily these days!  Polly, my love--' In response to her mother's
meaningful nod, Polly got up, pressed a kiss on Sir Godfrey's whiskery
face, and slipped out of the room.  Her spirits had taken a tumble. The
mention of Julian Morrish had been an unfortunate one.

Once out in the deserted entrance hall, Polly leaned against a marble
pillar and rested one hot cheek against its coolness.  She had known
that Sir Godfrey would be angry at Bel lars's dismissal, especially as
it followed on so swiftly from the fiasco of Julian Morrish.  And she
had been as upset as anyone at the necessity of rejecting Morrish,
knowing it would cause difficulties for Nicholas Sea grave in
particular.  Yet, she could not have accepted Morrish, not whilst the
spectre of Lord Henry March night persisted in imposing itself between
her and every eligible man she met.  A tear slid from the corner of one
of Polly's closed eyes and she swallowed what seemed to be a huge lump
in her throat.

Immediately after her estrangement from Lord Henry five years
previously, Polly had been in very low spirits.  She had berated
herself fiercely for the lack of courage and the lack of faith that had
led her to refuse to elope with Lord Henry.  She had a curious feeling
of loss, as though she had thrown away something priceless, something
that would never be recaptured.  The expression on Lord Henry's face as
he had left her that night, the stony withdrawal, the contempt for her
weakness, had haunted her for a long time.

It was only later, when she was older and understood her loss all the
more, that she realised that his love for her had been far more mature
than the girlish passion she had thought that she had felt for him. She
had simply not been ready to accept the full responsibility of his love
and all its implications, not ready to defy her family and run away
with him.

The most acute elements of her misery wore off with time, particularly
as Lord Henry was absent from Town much of the time and his path and
Polly's did not cross much for several years.  Whenever she heard news
of him it would invariably involve some highly coloured account of his
amatory adventures, for he appeared to have become a thorough-going
rake and wastrel.  Polly's heart ached when she heard the tales, as
though some part of her could not relinquish Henry for good.  And then,
the previous summer, her dormant feelings had been stirred into life
again.

Lord Henry had been in Suffolk that summer, at the same time that Polly
was at Dilling ham with her mother and brothers, and it was inevitable
that they should be in each other's company.  Each tried to avoid the
other as much as possible, their meetings made awkward by the history
that lay between them.

To Polly's horror, she had discovered that her childish infatuation had
somehow transformed itself over the years into a frighteningly strong
attachment.  She realised that Lord Henry had unconsciously influenced
her refusal of every offer of marriage over the past five years, and
that since she was unable to marry him now, she would marry no one.

The realisation made her even more self-conscious in his company and
she cursed her inability to match Henry's smooth detachment.  Her
original refusal to elope with him was now an awesome barrier between
them, making the re-establishment of cordial or at the least civil
relations between them well-nigh impossible.  When Lord Henry had said,
that fateful night, that he would never approach Polly again, he had
meant just that.  They were obliged to exchange a few words when they
met in public, but he seldom sought her out.  Then, of course, there
was his reputation as a rake, which made every chaperon blench.
Although many of his escapades were probably exaggerated, there was no
doubt that he had become very wild and would not be considered a
suitable escort for any unmarried lady.  And now, there was an even
more potent and unexpected reason why she could never hope to re-attach
his affections.  The sound of voices at the main door stirred Polly
from her thoughts.  She straightened up to see her sister-in-law
Lucille taking her leave of a couple on the doorstep and hurrying into
the hall, pulling off her gloves.  As Lucille's eyes adjusted to the
sudden shade, Polly came forward to greet her.

"Oh, Lucille, I am glad to see you back!"  Then, as her sister-in-law
fixed her with a rather too perceptive gaze, she said hastily, "Who
were those people?  They looked a little eccentric!"

Lucille laughed.

"The lady was a Mrs Go lightly, who is a friend of Miss Hannah More,
and was telling me all about her work with the Bettering Society!  They
work to improve the condition of the poor, you know!  And the gentleman
is a poet, Mr Cleymore, who is accounted quite good, I believe,
although I cannot understand his work!  They are complete originals,
but not people of fashion!"

"Who cares a button for that?"  Polly said stoutly.  One of the things
she particularly liked about Lucille was her lack of interest in
worldly concerns.  She would befriend people because she liked them,
support causes because she believed in them, and gently rebuke even the
most high-ranking Dowager who ventured to criticise her for her quaint
interests.  Lucille had grown in poise and confidence since her
marriage to Nicholas Sea grave, Polly thought now, but she retained the
innocent interest she had in everyone and everything.  It was a quality
that added to her novelty value in the eyes of the ton, who were always
seeking fresh amusement.  Lucille, with her slightly eccentric ways,
had been a gift to such jaded palates.  And the final titillation, of
course, was the dreadful, brassy Cyprian who was Lucille's twin and had
done her utmost to embarrass her sister, seeking her out at public
events and trying to hang on her coattails.  Lucille had dealt with all
the pitfalls most admirably, Polly thought with a smile, taking her
sister-in-law's arm and steering her towards the green drawing-room and
away from Sir Godfrey and the Dowager Countess.

"Do you have time to take tea with me?"  she asked hopefully, and
Lucille's observant blue eyes scanned her face once more.

"Of course!  Medlyn, tea for two in the Green Room, if you please!" She
turned back to Polly.

"But what has happened, Polly?  You look quite blue devilled!  Oh, I
know--' She wrinkled up her nose.  " John Bel lars has made you an
offer and you have refused him!  And.  " she cast a glance towards the
closed door of the blue drawing-room '..  your mother and Sir Godfrey
are on the high ropes over your behaviour!"

"Sir Godfrey has rung a peal over me," Polly admitted ruefully, as they
went into the Green Room.  "How did you know that Bel lars was about to
make me a declaration, Lucille?"

"I guessed," Lucille said serenely.

"And I suspected you would refuse him.

The only one I thought you might have accepted was Julian Morrish.  "
Polly sighed.

"I did think of accepting," she said reluctantly, 'for I like Julian
very well, and had I wanted a marriage based on mutual respect and
liking, it might have served.  But--' she shook her head '--I could not
do it, for--' "For you are still in love with Harry March night,"

 Lucille finished for her, disposing herself elegantly in a wing chair
and looking at her sister-in-law with a rueful amusement.

Feeling a prickle of envy at the casual way Lucille mentioned Lord
Henry, Polly sought to defend herself.

"It is not that I am in love with him, precisely--' The door opened to
admit Medlyn with the tea.  Lucille poured neatly and passed Polly a
cup.

Once she had thanked him and the door had closed again, Lucille turned
back to Polly.

"Come now, Polly, do you think you can cozen me?  It may be that you
originally suffered from a schoolroom infatuation for Lord Henry, but I
am sure you have discovered that this has turned to something far more
profound."

"You have not forgotten what I told you at Dilling ham in the autumn,"
Polly said sadly.

"I was being foolishly self-pitying!  It was simply that your own
wedding made me feel sorry for myself and I regretted the opportunity I
threw away!

But that was all over a long time ago!  It is of no consequence!"

Lucille studied her sister-in-law over the rim of her teacup.

"But I am concerned for your happiness, Polly!  All these gentlemen you
refuse are so very eligible and do not take their rejection lightly!
You know that you are getting a reputation for pride!  And what are you
to do if you do not marry?"

Polly shrugged, a gesture which her mother deplored.

"Oh, I shall devote myself to studying and good works!  And if I miss
the excitement of the Season in years to come, I shall set myself up as
a chaperon for daughters of rich cits wishing to marry well!"

Lucille sensibly chose to disregard most of this.  "Do you think," she
said carefully, 'that there is any likelihood of yourself and Lord
Henry making a match of it?  He has told me that he still holds you in
the greatest esteem--' But Polly was shaking her head violently.

"Oh, no, Lucille, that is impossible!  Why, I am sure he had nothing
but contempt for my poor-spirit ness in refusing to elope with him five
years ago and now I imagine he scarce thinks of me at all!"

She broke off, evading Lucille's eyes.  Impossible to explain to her
sister-in-law that the most potent reason that Lord Henry could no
longer have any interest in her was because he had quite obviously
formed a romantic attachment to Lucille herself.  Polly wondered just
how innocent Lucille could be.  She had no doubt that the attachment
was one-sided and entirely emotional rather than physical.  But how
could Lucille not have noticed that Lord Henry was forever in her
company, seeking her views and advice, valuing her opinion?  Why, even
Sea grave himself had commented humorously what a lap dog Harry March
night was becoming, forever following his wife about.

Polly searched rather desperately for a change of subject.

"Do you think that you shall be joining the Bettering Society,
Lucille?"

"Probably not," her sister-in-law answered.

"Nicholas has suggested that we travel a little at the end of the
Season, and since I am still awaiting my wedding trip, I thought to
encourage him!

But--' she returned to the previous subject with an obstinacy for which
she was well known '--we were speaking of you, Polly, not of myself! If
you truly feel that any awkwardness with Lord Henry must be in the past
now, why do the two of you spend all your time skulking behind trees or
pillars in an effort to avoid each other?

 It makes matters very difficult for the rest of us!  Why, Nicholas
was saying only the other day that he wished to ask Harry's advice on
those greys he was thinking of buying, but he hesitated in case you
accidently bumped into him!  Could you not speak to Lord Henry and put
an end to this, Polly?  " Polly stared in disbelief.

"Speak to him," she echoed faintly.

"Whatever can you mean, Lucille?  Oh, I could not!"

Lucille's brows rose at this missish response.  She knew that Lady
Appollonia Grace Sea grave was a well-brought-up and entirely orthodox
daughter of the nobility, but had not thought her merely a pretty ninny
hammer.

"Well, upon my word, I only meant that you should discuss matters with
him--clear the air!"  she repeated patiently.

"After all, you are both adults and cannot be forever behaving in this
foolish manner!  You yourself have said that it is all in the past!  I
apologise if I have offended your sensibility, but I should think that
one slightly embarrassing encounter must be a small price to pay to be
comfortable together in the future!  If you truly believe that there is
no hope for the two of you and you do not wish to try to reengage his
feelings, explain to Lord Henry that you have no wish to continue in
this absurd way and that you should both regard the past as over!  That
way you may start afresh as friends!"

Polly sighed, reaching for the teapot.  It was hopeless to try to
explain to Lucille that gently bred ladies simply did not seek a
gentleman out in order to engage him in a conversation of an intimate
and personal nature.

Disagreements such as the one Polly had with Lord Henry were simply to
be ignored or endured Lucille, who had earned a living as a
schoolteacher before her marriage to the Earl, had no time for what she
saw as the pointless prevarications of polite society, but Polly could
no more approach Lord Henry than fly to the moon.

torn are great friends with Harry March night," Polly said lightly,
trying not to let her envy show.

"I doubt I could achieve your familiarity with him!"

"No, but I am a married lady--' Lucille broke off at Polly's
irrepressible burst of laughter, arching her eyebrows enquiringly.

"Why, whatever have I said?"

"Married ladies are precisely the type Lord Henry prefers, so I
hear,"

Polly said drily.

"Oh, but--' For a moment Lucille looked confused, before regaining her
poise.

"Oh, no, it is not in the least like that\ I am glad to have Harry's
esteem, but that is all there is to it!  Why, to suggest anything else
would be pure folly!"

Polly smiled, unconvinced.  It was true that not even the ton, with its
penchant for intrigue, had suggested anything improper in the
relationship between the two, but that did not mean that Lord Henry
might not wish it so.

Lucille, totally absorbed in her husband, would be the last person to
realise.  Polly, thinking now of the consuming passion between Lucille
and Nick Sea grave, shifted slightly in her chair.  They were always
perfectly proper in their behaviour in company, but it only needed one
look.  Polly sometimes thought that if any man ever looked at her with
that explicit mixture of warmth and sensual demand she would faint dead
away.  But perhaps Lucille was lucky.  Perhaps she was the unlucky one,
hidebound by a conventional upbringing in a house where pre serving
the surface calm had always been all important.

The problem of Lord Henry March night twitched at the corner of her
mind again.  Lucille was right, of course.  Polly did not delude
herself that there was any chance of re-establishing a rapport with
Lord Henry, and under the circumstances, it was both foolish and
pointless to be forever dwelling on the past.  Perhaps she could at
least try to put matters to rights.  If she could find the right words
to convey a genteel acceptance that they had both been young and
foolish.  It might suffice and put an end to awkwardness.

"I will try to speak to Lord Henry if I have an opportunity," Polly
agreed hesitantly.

"I understand what you mean, Lucille.  It is just so difficult..."  She
despised herself for her lack of spirit, even as her mind shrank from
the thought of broaching such a personal subject with someone who was,
to all intents and purposes, a stranger.  Yet Lucille was also right
that their social circle was relatively small: to try to avoid someone
was always difficult.  Friends always seemed to have other mutual
friends or acquaintances and an invitation or chance meeting could
prove awkward.

Lucille took a biscuit and poured a second cup of tea.

"I own it will be a relief to have the matter settled," she said with a
candid smile.

"Then I may stop worrying about you and turn my attention to Peter and
Hetty!

They are causing me great concern!  " "It must have been a great blow
for Hetty when Mrs Mark ham's ill health led to the postponment of the
wedding," Polly commented, secretly glad that Lucille had turned the
subject.

"But what do you mean, Lucille?  How can Peter be giving you cause for
concern?"

Lucille frowned.  Polly's brother and her own foster sister had been
intending to wed that spring, but the marriage had been delayed
indefinitely since Hetty's mother had succumbed to the dropsy.

"You know how silly Hetty became at the start of the Season," Lucille
said, a little crossly.

"Of course, she is very young and I think her head was turned by all
the attention she received, but I thought that once she had returned to
the country she might regain some of her natural sense!

But only today I have had a letter from her telling me that Lord
Grantley is in Essex and paying her lavish attentions!  And your
brother is as bad, Polly, for instead of posting down to Kings- mar ton
to see Hetty and untangle matters he persists in staying in Town, and
last night at Lady Coombes's ball he was paying the most outrageous
attentions to Maria Lever stoke.  " "But I thought she was Lord Henry's
flirt," Polly said, studiously picking an imaginary thread off Fan-
chon's latest confection, and politely avoiding a description of Lady
Lever stoke that might have been more appropriate but less discreet.

Lucille made an airy gesture.

"That may be so, but she seemed smitten enough with Peter last night!
He is become the most dreadful philanderer!

You are for Lady Phillips's rid otto tonight, are you not?  Only watch,
and you will see just what I mean!  " Chapter Two QrysQ -Lady
Phillips's rid otto was one of the major social events of the Season,
but already the June weather had turned hot, prompting some of the ton
to leave London for their country estates or the cooling breezes of the
seaside.  Nevertheless, there was a great crush at the house in
Berkeley Square and, even with the french windows flung wide open the
temperature in the ballroom was enough to make the guests perspire
unbecomingly.

Almost the first person Polly saw on entering the crowded reception
room was Lord Henry March night, lavishing his attentions in a
thoroughly improper way on a lady in bright scarlet satin.  Polly,
trying to ignore the pang of misery that assailed her, considered that
the colour of the lady's outfit was an all-too- appropriate choice.

"Lady Melton," hissed the Dowager Countess of Sea grave to her
daughter, 'married to his lordship but a twelvemonth ago and already
driving him to his grave with her extravagance and her affaires\ So
Lady Phillips is letting the demi-monde patronise her ball!

 I should have expected her to exercise more judgement!  " Polly
raised her brows.  The Dowager Countess was very high in the instep and
would never countenance such guests at one of her own events, but not
all ton hostesses were as discerning.  A moment later, Polly heard her
mother give a stifled groan, halfway between a shriek and a moan,
almost as though she were in pain.  The Dowager Countess had stopped
dead in the middle of the marbled floor.

Polly stopped too and turned enquiringly to her mother.

"Mama, are you quite well?"

"Yes, only look!  No, not over there... over by that pillar!  The
strumpet!"

Startled, Polly turned to scan the room.  There were plenty of faces
she recognised, but none surely to give rise to such vehemence in the
Dowager Countess's breast.  Why, her mother had gone quite pale, though
whether with shock, anger or illness it was impossible to tell.  Then,
she saw the reason.

"Good Lord--' The exclamation had escaped before she could help
herself.

"Polly, you will not take the name of the Lord in vain!"  the Dowager
Countess said energetically.  She seemed slightly restored by her
daughter's inadvertent slip into blasphemy.

"Yes, Mama, I am sorry, but it is Peter and--' " I am as capable as the
next person of recognising your brother," the Dowager snapped.

"We cannot acknowledge him, however!  Come this way!  Thank God that
Nicholas and Lucille are not present tonight!  That brass-faced trollop
is always trying to embarrass us!"  She took Polly's arm in a tight
grip and positively pulled her towards the ballroom.

 "I thought that Peter had taken up with Lady Lever stoke," Polly
said, obediently allowing herself to be steered away with only one
backward glance.

"Humph!  I never thought to consider Maria Lever stoke as the lesser of
two evils--' The Dowager broke off to give a tight-lipped smile to one
of her acquaintance.

"On no account must you allow your brother to approach you,"

she continued, as they squeezed past the orchestra to appropriate two
rout chairs in an inconspicuous corner.

"It would be quite unacceptable!"

"Perhaps it would be easier for us to go home," Polly said, a little
dispiritedly.  It was bad enough to be confronted by the prospect of
Lord Henry flirting all evening with some fast-looking matron, but the
thought of avoiding her own brother seemed quite ridiculous.  Here,
however, she ran up against the Dowager Countess's stubborn streak.

"Go home!  And have everyone say that that trollop has ousted us?
Certainly not!  Besides..."  the Dowager looked around surreptitiously
'. I most particularly wish to see Agatha Calvert tonight!  She has not
been up in Town this age and we have so much to catch up on!  " "Surely
Lady Calvert can call on you tomorrow--' The Dowager Countess looked
disgusted.

"Have you no pride, Polly?  I assure you that the Cyprian will not
drive me away!"

Polly smiled slightly.  She could see her brother Peter coming into the
ballroom at that very moment, threatening to put his mother's
resolution to the test.  Lucille had mentioned Peter's sudden descent
into questionable company, but even she had apparently been unaware of
this latest disaster.

For with Peter Sea grave was none other than Lucille's sister, the
notorious Cyprian Susanna Bolt, in a dress of the most outrageous
plunging black silk and ostrich feathers.

"Peter, what can you be doing!"

"Why, I'm talk in' to my own sister!"  Lord Peter Sea grave said, with
pardonable indignation.

"What could be more suitable?"

"You know that is not what I meant!"  Polly looked up at him with
asperity, feeling her annoyance begin to melt at the limpid innocence
in those dark Sea grave eyes.  It was so very difficult to be angry
with Peter for long.

Whilst Polly and Nicholas had inherited something of their father's
gravity, Peter had a gaiety and insouciance that was almost
irresistible.

"Oh, Peter, how could you squire Susanna Bolt about and embarrass Mama
so?"

Peter looked affronted.

"Mama ain't embarrassed by me!  Why, she's nose to nose with Agatha
Calvert and has barely noticed me!"

"Only because she has not seen Lady Calvert for an age!"  Polly looked
across to where the two matrons were chatting nineteen to the dozen.

"I

assure you, she would not have allowed me to even speak with you
else!

Supposing Lady Bolt approaches us?  " "Lady Bolt is almost one of the
family," Peter added virtuously, but unable to repress a slight
twinkle, 'and I am sure Mama would not slight a relative!

" "Fustian!"  Polly was also trying not to smile.

"Oh, this is too bad of you, Peter!  I dare swear it is not for the
family connection that you have sought her company!"

"Careful, Poll!"

 "Well, if you are setting Lady Bolt up as your in- amorata--' "
Polly!  " "Oh, I collect that it is acceptable for a gentleman to have
such a thing, but not for ladies to refer to her?"  Polly frowned at
her brother.

"And if you try to tell me that Lady Bolt has become respectable since
her marriage I will count you a greater fool than I already do!  What
of Hetty, Peter?"

The amusement went out of Peter Sea grave's face like a candle blown
out.

He studied the dancers with sudden intentness.

"Miss Mark ham and I are no longer... That is, we have agreed that we
would not suit."

"Oh, Peter!"  Polly looked up at him, genuinely shocked.  Peter swung
gently back on his rout chair, feigning nonchalance.

"It was only last summer that you were bowled over by her," Polly added
reproachfully.

"Miss Mark ham was a different girl last summer."  Peter was looking
both annoyed and upset now.

"Un spoilt, sweet-natured... It took only six weeks in Town to turn her
into the type of silly simpering debutante that I detest!  Besides," he
added bitterly, 'she is after bigger game than me now!  " Polly was
silent.  She could hardly deny that Hetty had behaved very foolishly,
flirting with any titled and personable man who had shown her attention
and treating Peter in a most offhand way.  She put her hand on her
brother's arm.

"It is only that her head was turned a little," she pleaded.

"Please will you reconsider--' " Peter, darling!  " Peter rose to his
feet, a schoolboy blush in his cheeks as Susanna Bolt put a gloved hand
cares singly on his shoulder.  The Cyprian gave Polly an appraising
look and her feline smile.

"Lady Polly..."

"Lady Bolt," Polly said coldly.  She marvelled at how different two
sisters could be.  There was a clear innocence about Lucille Sea grave
which contrasted starkly with the predatory sexuality of her twin. Lady
Bolt might have achieved a fragile respectability through her recent
marriage, Polly thought, but her previous activities continued much as
before, encouraged, some said, by Sir Edwin Bolt himself. Susanna's
blue gaze, as hard as the diamonds she preferred, raked Polly and
dismissed her as an unworthy rival.

"Peter..."  this time she trailed her fingers gently down his
shirtfront 'you promised me you would play deep this evening.  " The
phrase was loaded with so much innuendo that Peter Sea grave looked
acutely uncomfortable and his sister almost surprised herself by
giggling.

Doubtless she should have felt shocked, but Lady Bolt was so
superlatively over-dramatic that it was almost impossible to take her
seriously.

"Do not let me keep you from your entertainments, Peter," she said
sweetly, and watched Susanna steer her sheepish brother away towards
the card room.

There was a quadrille in progress, but Polly had refused a number of
requests to dance because it was so hot and she had felt disinclined to
become even more heated and flustered.  The Dowager Lady Sea- grave had
moved away temporarily to chat with Lady Calvert and a number of other
senior matrons, and when she had seen Peter approach his sister she had
not troubled herself to disturb them despite her earlier words.  The
Dowager knew that Polly had so much Town bronze that she need not
trouble herself to chaperon her too closely.

After all, apart from one regrettable incident five years ago, her
daughter had never given her cause to worry.  Nevertheless, she kept
her firmly within eyesight.

Peter's rout chair was only vacant for a moment, then a voice said
ingratiatingly, "Lady Polly!  Vision of loveliness!  I bring
succour!"

Polly stifled a sigh.

"Sir Mar ma duke.  How do you do, sir?"

Sir Mar ma duke Shipley gazed languishingly at her.  An ageing roue, he
was a gazetted fortune-hunter who liked to think that he was dangerous.
A certain indulgent smile on the face of the Dowager Countess as she
looked across at her daughter gave the lie to this.  Sir Mar ma duke
handed Polly a glass and took the seat beside her with an ostentatious
flick of his coattails.

The room was getting more and more humid and the drink was very
welcome.

Polly, who had been intending to be very chilly towards the lecherous
Sir Mar ma duke, found herself smiling gratefully at him instead.

"What exquisite looks you are in tonight, my lady," Sir Mar ma duke
murmured, his breath hot against Polly's neck.

"Dare I hope that you will smile on me?"

"I doubt it, sir!"  Polly said smartly, taking a mouthful of the drink.
It was certainly not lemonade, but it tasted rather pleasantly fruity
and quite innocuous, light and refreshing for a summer night.  She took
another sip.

"Still so cruel, divine one?"  Sir Mar ma duke's dissolute gaze roved
over her familiarly.  Lady Polly Sea- grave had never been an
accredited beauty, but there was nevertheless something very alluring
about her, he thought.

Tonight, in the deep aquamarine which was rather daring for an
unmarried lady, albeit one of more mature years than the debutantes,
she looked particularly attractive.  Her dark hair was up swept and
restrained with a diamond studded slide but she wore no jewels other
than a string of pearls that had the same translucent glow as her skin.
She did not need adornment.

Sir Mar ma duke's eyes lingered in lascivious appreciation.  Whilst the
dragonish Dowager was fully occupied, he intended to take full
advantage of this unexpected teteatete.

Polly sighed again.  She had far too much assurance to feel threatened
by Sir Mar ma duke's slimy overtures.  In a crowded ballroom she was in
no danger from him, other than of being bored to death by his unwelcome
compliments.

"So your young brother has fallen for the lure," Sir Mar ma duke said,
abandoning flattery and pursuing a more scandalous line.

"Never did a lamb go more happily to the slaughter!  The on-dit is that
the lovely Susanna had a mind to take him away from her foster sister,
and what chance did Miss Mark ham's untried charms have against such a
wealth of experience?"

Polly was shocked, but tried not to show it.  It had not occurred to
her that Peter's flirtation with Susanna Bolt was anything more than a
coincidence.

She knew a little of Lady Bolt's activities, far more in fact than her
mother would have thought proper, and now that she thought about it she
remembered hearing of more than one occasion when Susanna had set out
to destroy a couple's happiness.  But her own foster sister?  It argued
a particularly harsh and jealous nature.

"Indeed?"  Polly murmured, refusing to rise to Sir Mar ma duke's
bait.

"I do not care for this conversation, sir."

"No?"  Sir Mar ma duke's gaze moved thoughtfully to her empty glass and
he summoned another full one from a passing flunkey.

"Your pardon, I was only wishing to warn you of Lady Bolt's vicious
nature."

"I should hope that her ladyship's diversions would not affect me,
sir."

"No?"  Sir Mar ma duke said again.  There was a look of malicious
amusement in his eyes which made Polly profoundly uncomfortable.

"Perhaps not.  You will not be interested in the most piquant part of
the tale, then, which is that young Peter is her ladyship's second
choice, for she first set her sights on Lord Henry March night..."

For a moment Polly's dark gaze met Sir Mar ma- duke's, then she looked
away.

She took another mouthful of fruit punch without noticing.  It was so
easy to take refuge in her glass to avoid difficult subjects.  And the
drink was so refreshing and unusual.  Normally she was only allowed
lemonade, which, now she considered it, was ridiculous for one of her
age and experience.

The Dowager Countess was such a high stickler, Polly thought.  Perhaps
it was time she asserted her independence.

"Your squalid gossip is of no interest to me, sir," she said distantly,
wishing that more congenial company would present itself.
Unfortunately, Lady Sea- grave was still chatting, glancing across at
her daughter with unusual and misplaced satisfaction.  It would take a
brave soul to interrupt Sir Mar ma duke now that he was so entrenched,
Polly thought resignedly.  As if to underline the point, the elderly
baronet stretched his arm along the back of Polly's chair and leaned
closer.  His breath was stale with wine.

"Can I not please you?"  Sir Mar ma duke murmured.  "When my sole
intention is your delight, beauteous lady--' " Your servant.  Lady
Polly.  Shipley.  " Polly almost jumped.  She felt a quiver of
awareness along her nerves even before her hand was taken by Lord Henry
March night himself.  Perhaps it was the drink, which she was now
regarding suspiciously, or perhaps the effect of Lord Henry's presence,
but she felt suddenly lightheaded.

"I am persuaded," Lord Henry said gently, 'that you would do so much
better dancing with me, Lady Polly.  Will you do me the honour?  " For
a moment, as Polly's startled dark eyes met Lord Henry's narrowed, lazy
gaze, she had the oddest feeling that he knew she had been thinking of
him.

Various thoughts jostled for dominance in her mind.  Her first was that
Lord Henry never asked her to dance.  How could he, when he seldom even
spoke to her?  The second thought was that this was a waltz and the
Dowager Countess would not approve.  The third was that she was feeling
ever so slightly odd-not unpleasantly odd, but definitely a little
adrift.  Which no doubt explained how she came to be waltzing in Lord
Henry's arms before she even had chance to think about it properly.

The lilt of the music was very seductive and Lord Henry was an
exceptionally good dancer.  After one circuit of the floor, Polly
realized with some incredulity that she felt rather delightfully
abandoned, like thistledown floating on air.  Lord Henry was holding
her at an entirely respectable distance from his body, but
nevertheless the strength of his arm about her, the unfamiliar brush of
his thigh against the slippery material of her dress, was peculiarly
exciting.  Polly blinked slightly, aware that she was not feeling quite
normal, but the thought slid away, out of reach.  Normal?  She felt
marvelous.

"You are keeping dangerous company tonight, Lady Polly," Lord Henry
said in her ear.  The thought of his lips so close to the sensitive
skin of her neck sent a delicious shiver through Polly.  She tried to
pull herself together.

What on earth was wrong with her this evening?

"Are all the Sea graves courting scandal?"  Lord Henry continued.

"First your brother sets himself up as Lady Bolt's new..."  he
hesitated 'new flirt, then you grant Sir Mar ma duke Shipley a
tete-a-tete and compound your daring by dancing with me!  " Polly
looked up fully into his face for the first time.  His words
crystallised the thought which had entered her head when first he had
whisked her from under Sir Mar ma duke's nose.  Sir Mar ma duke liked
to consider himself a rake, but Lord Henry was the really dangerous
one, a marauding tiger loose amongst the innocent flock of debutantes.
Whatever was she about, to be dancing with him with such abandonment?
Across the dance floor, she could see that the Dowager Countess had
finally finished her conversation and was glaring at her most
meaningfully.  Polly felt exasperated.  Why had her mother not objected
to the unwelcome attentions of the odious Sir Mar ma duke and yet had
immediately perceived Lord Henry's arrival?  It was most unfair.  She
deliberately looked the other way.

Lucille had once said, without an iota of partiality, hk that Lord
Henry March night was the best-looking y man that she had ever seen.
Polly could certainly un; understand what she meant, for Lord Henry had
the classical regularity of feature beloved of all sculptors and } ;
painters.  His thick fair hair, immaculately ruffled in W , :. c the
Windswept style, made ladies long to run their 5 '%!  fingers through
it.  The lazy appraisal of those grey ; ;%S s?  ; eyes could, as one
infatuated maiden declared, positively cause one to swoon, and his
sporting pursuits "H."."  f, had given him a physique envied by those
less fa- s.

;T";!-i: : .  voured.

"Are you really so dangerous then, sir?"  Polly heard herself say.
Surely that could not be her voice, so light, so teasing?  She never
flirted!

- .  >. " .,- ---------.

"I am accounted dangerous, certainly.  " Lord Henry ,|})m pspnpul ". ,
" ,1 .  . given her a quizzical glance, no doubt as surprised by
Polly's flirtatious ness as she was herself.  : I ;- "A real tiger,
then, not merely a pussycat?"

This time Lord Henry's look was rather more searching.

"Have you been drinking the arrack punch, Lady Polly?"

"Certainly not."  Polly said with dignified aplomb.  "I had some
delicious fruit cup, but what is that to the " Ah, the fruit cup," Lord
Henry murmured with a slight smile.

"It is so refreshing, is it not?  I see the Dowager Countess is looking
daggers at us," he continued indolently.

"I must shortly redeem myself in her eyes and return you to her
unscathed!"

"Oh, no!"  Polly had suddenly remembered that she had promised Lucille
that she would speak to Lord Henry about a matter of importance.  She
frowned in concentration, trying to remember what exactly the issue had
been.  It was something potentially difficult.  embarrassing.  but she
did not feel embarrassed at the moment, only marvellously liberated.
Her mind was a little fuzzy at the edges, perhaps, but she had not felt
this confident in a long time!  It was a moment before she realised
that Lord Henry was looking at her with amusement.

"I beg your pardon.  Lady Polly?"

"No, do not take me back just yet, sir!"  Polly tried to grasp the
appropriate words.

"I... there is a matter I need ... must discuss with you!"

"Indeed!"  A faint smile touched Lord Henry's firm mouth once more.

"You intrigue me, madam!  I am at your disposal, of course!"

The music was ending.  Lord Henry gave her a mocking bow, taking her
arm to escort her through the crowd and across to one of the
silk-draped alcoves.

It was sufficiently far from her mother to make Polly feel much more
confident.  She could deal with this matter without the Dowager Lady
Sea grave even realising!

Lord Henry stood aside for her to sit down first, but she made no move
to do so.  He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Lady Polly?  What is this urgent matter that demands our
attention?

Will you not sit down so that I may at least do the same?"

Polly discovered that her thought processes were suddenly beautifully
clear.

"I meant," she said deliberately, 'that I needed to speak to you in
private.

Not here.  There are too many people about!  " This time.  Lord Henry
did not scruple to hide his surprise.

"A somewhat equivocal remark, my lady!"  he said, with an ironic
inflection.

"Are you sure that is what you mean?  It seems most singular."

 Polly frowned at him.  She had no time for argument.  All she was
aware of was the single-minded need to fulfill her purpose.

"The terrace should suffice, my lord," she said briskly, turning
towards the door and praying that he would follow.  Out of the corner
of her eye, she saw the Dowager Countess getting heavily to her feet.
It was a long way around the dance floor and the room was crowded, but
it would take a determined Mama seconds only to rescue her charge.
Polly saw one of the Dowager Countess's acquaintance accost her and
heaved a sigh of relief.

Old Lady Odgers was notoriously chatty and would not be easy to shake
off.

She prayed that this would give her enough time.

The terrace was deeply shadowed and Polly purposefully made for the
furthest corner, only turning back to Lord Henry when she had gained
its seclusion.

The cool evening air had helped to sober her a little, but she still
felt remarkably buoyant and determined.  Yet as soon as she opened her
mouth the words seemed to desert her.

"I hoped...!  wished...!  wanted to say..."  Suddenly it seemed
incredibly difficult to frame the appropriate phrases.  She had wanted
to be so gracious, easily putting an end to five years' embarrassment.
At this rate she would cause five years' more!  And Lord Henry was not
helping her, lounging against the parapet and watching her with the
same thoughtful consideration he had already shown.

"Yes, ma'am?  You have already implied that you had something of
importance to impart to me.  I should not be here else."

Polly's cheeks, already flushed with unaccustomed high colour from the
punch, became even rosier.

"Oh, you are the most odious man!  I only wished to say that I wanted
us to be friends!"  Memory came to her aid.

"I want us to be friends in future and I want us to be comfortable
together!"

she brought out, triumphantly.  It had a reassuring sound, although
comfortable was about the last thing Lord Henry made her feel.

"And if you wish it too, then there is no bar--' " Ah, but perhaps I do
not.

" Lord Henry was smiling a little now, for he knew that certain
suspicions he had harboured about Lady Polly's lack of sobriety had
been confirmed.  She was not drunk, precisely, he thought, but she was
not perfectly sober.  And she was evidently too innocent to have
realised her state.  Or her danger.

"Oh!"  Polly had anticipated his compliance and there was no doubt that
this refusal to conform had thrown her plans.  Lord Henry watched in
amusement as she tried to puzzle it out.  With her tumbled curls, pink
cheeks and bright eyes, she looked wholly enchanting.  He felt a
certain impulse stir in him and tried half-heartedly to stifle it.  He
straightened up and took a step closer to her.  Polly did not appear to
notice.

"Well, if you do not care to be comfortable with me--' " No, ma'am.  "
Lord Henry was still immaculately polite, even as he calculated, quite
coldly, what he was about to do.

"Comfortable is not a word I could ever apply to our situation."

"Then--' Polly was at a loss.

"If you do not wish us to be friends, what...?"

Lord Henry made a slight, dismissive gesture.  "What could a rake wish
for from a lady on a providentially empty terrace?"

 "Oh!"

Understanding came to Polly at the very last moment, but her head still
felt as though it was stuffed with wool.  Time seemed to pass very
slowly.

Indeed, she had time to reflect that she had never been kissed by a
man, since she had always been exceptionally careful to avoid being
alone with any gentleman who was not a relative.  Then she remembered
that when she had been in the throes of her infatuation, she had quite
ached for Lord Henry to kiss her as long as it had been in a completely
undemanding fashion.  Some chaste but impassioned salutation had been
the height of her aspirations.

This kiss might have been impassioned, but in no way could it be
described as chaste.  Lord Henry's arm slid about Polly's waist and
brought her into sudden, shocking contact with his body.  His mouth
captured hers with the ruthless skill of the expert, parting her lips
so that her gasp of outrage was lost.  For several long, spellbinding
seconds, Polly was swept up in a passion too complex and demanding for
her even to begin to resist.

Lord Henry let her go very gently and Polly stared at him in silence.
The combined effects of unaccustomed drink and strong emotion made her
feel quite shaken and she put a hand onto the parapet to steady
herself.  The stone was cool beneath her fingers, already damp with the
night's dew.

Polly frowned a little, confused.  How could this have happened when
she had intended so different an outcome?  Then, utterly unexpectedly.
Lord Henry took her hand and pressed a kiss on the palm.

"Do not look at me so reproachfully.  Lady Polly,"

 he said quietly.

"Remember that you took your part in making me what I am."

He turned to go and was confronted once again by the Dowager Countess
of Sea grave, rushing precipitately to the rescue.  He gave her a most
flawless, ironic bow.

"Lady Sea grave!  How do you do, ma'am?  I remember once telling you
that I would never approach your daughter again.  Alas that I am forced
to contradict myself, for I find I have a most urgent need to make her
reacquaintance!  Your servant, ma'am!"

And he left the outraged Dowager spluttering for words.

Chapter Three

QTQSQ

lolly woke up with the conviction that something was terribly wrong.
Her head ached with an unaccustomed thick throbbing and her tongue felt
furry.

She rolled on to her back.  The sun was streaming through the curtains
and she could hear the sound of wheels in the street outside.  It was
late.

Through the woolly feeling in her head, Polly remembered the fruit
punch, so apparently innocuous and yet so dangerous.  Oh, how could she
have been such a fool, she who had been out for five years!  Drinking
spirits, becoming flirtatious, crowning her folly with a drunken
encounter on the terrace with Lord Henry March night!  No doubt he
thought her the most unutterable fool!

She squirmed, turning her hot face into the cool linen pillow in an
attempt to wipe out the vivid memories which were flooding back.

"I've tried to wake her once already, my lady," a voice was saying, and
Polly shot bolt upright, suddenly terrified that her mother was at the
door.  But it was only Lucille, who came into the room and pulled back
the bed curtains with a resounding rasp that echoed through Polly's
head.

 "Oh!  Do not!"  Polly's groan was heartfelt.  She slumped back on the
pillows, feeling dizzy.  Her sister-in-law paused in surprise.

"Polly?  Are you ill?  I thought that you were coming with me to Lady
Rout ledge's picnic?"

The light was making Polly's eyes stream.  She squinted at Lucille
through the brightness.  There was a rhythmic pounding in her ears
although she had no recollection of any major building works currently
taking place on the house.

"Oh dear... I think I may be sick..."

"If I did not know better, I should say that you were foxed," Lucille
was saying severely, eyeing her sister- in-law closely.

"I had no idea that Lady Phillips's ri- dot to had been such a hotbed
of iniquity!  Or was it the prawn patties you ate, perhaps?  Yes, so
much better for it to be the prawns, I think... That is what I shall
tell your Mama.  I will come and see you later..."

Polly was beyond replying.  She turned over and was asleep again at
once.

It was the afternoon when she awoke again, feeling marginally better.

"Lady Sea grave said that I wasn't to disturb you on account of you
being so sick, ma'am," Polly's maid said sympathetically, when summoned
at last by the bell.

"Can I fetch you anything, ma'am?  Some food?"

A spasm of distaste crossed Polly's face.

"I think not, Jessie.  Just a very large glass of water, if you please.
I have seldom been so thirsty!

And I shall get up now, I think.  " Jessie looked dubious.

"Well, ma'am, if you're sure you're ready!  My brother usually takes a
day to sleep off his excesses..."  She caught Polly's outraged
expression and dropped a submissive curtsy.  A country girl from the
Sea graves' Suffolk estate, Jessie had a kind heart but no tact.

"As you wish, ma'am!"  she finished hastily.

"Shall you be going out?"

"Yes!"  Polly snapped, suddenly anxious to refute the suggestion that
she was a drunkard to rival Jessie's brother.

"We shall go to the circulating library!  My lilac walking dress,
please!"

Half an hour later, attired in the lilac and lace dress and with a very
becoming black straw bonnet on her dark curls, Polly sallied forth into
the fresh air with Jessie trotting along behind.  Lucille and the
Dowager Countess had not returned from the picnic, but Polly thought it
unlikely her mother could object to so innocuous a plan as a trip to
the library.

After all, no possible harm could befall her there.

It was pleasantly cool within and Polly spent an enjoyable time
browsing amongst the shelves and choosing her books.  There was
something very soothing about the shadowy quiet of the library,
something tranquil when Polly still felt a little disordered in both
body and spirit.  An elderly gentleman was dozing in a seat in the
corner and two ladies were whispering together over a copy of Louisa
Sidney Stanhope's The Confessional of Valombre.  There was nothing to
disturb the peace.  Polly leant forward to pull a book from the shelf
and found herself looking into a pair of sleepy grey eyes as someone
selected a book from the other side at precisely the same moment as
she.

"Oh!"  She dropped all her books and recoiled a step, causing the two
ladies to break off their conversation and hush her noisily.  The
gentleman came around the end of the bookcase, bent down and gravely
handed her back the books of her choice.

"Good afternoon.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry March- night said.

"What are you doing here?"  Polly hissed crossly, forgetful of the fact
that only hours earlier she had privately resolved never to speak to
him again.

He was looking immaculate in a dove-grey jacket which echoed the colour
of those disturbing grey eyes and Polly felt both annoyed and ill
prepared to meet him.  If only she had stayed at home!  The scene on
Lady Phillips's terrace flashed before her eyes once more, adding to
her confusion.  It was the greatest piece of bad luck to be obliged to
face him again so soon.

Lord Henry gestured to the two slender volumes under his arm.

"Like you, I am selecting some reading matter," he said calmly.

"A gentleman may attend the circulating library if he wishes!"

"Yes, but I would hardly have considered reading to be amongst your
favoured occupations Polly bit her lip, aware that her confusion had
prompted her to sound less than civil.

"I beg your pardon, I only meant that I imagined you had other
interests Again she broke off.  That sounded even worse!

Lord Henry smiled, showing her the books.

"Allow me to astound you then, ma'am!  I have here Cole- ridge's
Biographica Liter aria and some Homer, which I have not read since I
was in short coats!

I assure you, I am far more erudite than you think me!"

Polly blinked, unable to refute the evidence of her eyes.  It seemed
singular that a man whose self- proclaimed aim in life was enjoyment to
the point of dissipation should sit in alone with only his books for
company.

 "I am so glad to see you restored to health," Lord Henry continued
smoothly.

"I was at Lady Rout- ledge's picnic earlier and your sister-in-law
intimated that you had been taken ill after the ball last night.
Something you ate--or drank, perhaps?"

Polly could feel herself blushing with vexation.  The last thing that
she wanted was to be reminded of the previous evening and Lord Henry's
scandalous behaviour.

"I am quite recovered now, I thank you," she said stiffly.

"Good day, sir.

I must be on my way home for we are promised for the theatre this
evening.  " "Perhaps I may escort you back to Brook Street?"  Lord
Henry suggested politely.

He held the door for her as she went out into the sunny street.  It was
tempting to accept his offer, but since Polly was still smarting with
mortification over her behaviour the night before.  Lord Henry's
continued presence could only be a dangerous reminder.  She gave him a
smile behind which her regret was imperfectly hidden.

"Thank you, sir, but I think not.  I have my maid with me for company
and it is not far to home,"

"I am disappointed, ma'am," Lord Henry said, falling into step beside
her as though she had not spoken.  "Are we not pledged to a better
understanding?

How may that be achieved if you refuse my company?"

"Pledged to a better understanding?"  Polly stopped and stared up at
him.

The summer breeze was ruffling his thick fair hair and she stifled a
sudden urge to touch it.  She realised that she was still staring.
Hastily, she started walking again.

"Why, yes."  Somehow Lord Henry had taken her arm without her noticing.
It seemed churlish to draw away from him.

"We are to be friends, remember?  You suggested it last night!"

"Friends!"  Polly almost tripped up with shock and his hand tightened
momentarily on her arm, sending all sorts of strange but delicious
sensations through her body.

"Yes, of course you must remember!  We were on the terrace--' " Yes!  "
Polly squeaked, convinced he was about to remind her of every searing
detail.  She took a deep breath.

"Of course I remember our conversation, sir.  I had the particular
impression, however, that you did not care for my suggestion!"

Lord Henry turned to look at her.  It was a distinctly speculative
look.

"You did not find my response to you... friendly?"

Polly blushed with indignation.

"I did not, my lord!  Presumptuous, outrageous, but scarcely
friendly!"

Lord Henry's shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Come now.

Lady Polly!  You are severe!  Was my company so repulsive to you?  "
Polly was in a dilemma.  Modesty required her to lie but she had been
brought up to be exceptionally truthful.

"Your behaviour was not that of a gentleman, sir!"

"Ah, true!"  Lord Henry smiled whimsically.

"But I find myself rather taken by your proposal.  Lady Polly.  I have
an ardent desire to promote our friendship.  Our encounter last night
whetted my appetite for it!"

They had reached Brook Street, which was fortunate since Polly was
utterly unable to think of a suitable response.  Lord Henry kissed her
hand.

"If you wish to be persuaded further of my erudition, perhaps you might
wish to join me in St James's Square?  I have an excellent art
collection which you might like to view..."  His glance was wicked.

"Unless you are already convinced of my scholarship and good taste?"

"I will accept your word on it," Polly said, still trying to be severe
though tempted to giggle.

"Good day, sir!"

Art collection, indeed!  Polly blushed a little as she considered the
implications of his teasing invitation.  He must consider her a green
girl to be caught by that one!  Lord Henry grinned and strolled off
down the street, with just one provocative look back.  Polly was
annoyed that he had caught her looking after him.

"There's a likely gentleman," Jessie opined, looking over Polly's
shoulder.

"Aye, and a dangerous one, too!  You be careful, madam!"

Polly, who had been thinking exactly the same thing, turned away with
studied indifference.

"Oh, nonsense, Jessie!  Lord Henry is just a flirt!"

"A flirt!"  Jessie was indignant.

"A rake, more to the point!  Aye, and you like it, madam!"

Polly did not deign to reply.

As she dressed for the theatre that evening, she repressed a little
shiver of excitement and apprehension at the possibility of seeing Lord
Henry again.

It seemed that her behaviour the previous night had, entirely
unexpectedly, caught his interest.  But his attentions could never be
anything other than dishonourable, and as a result of her own actions
he was now pursuing her in a wholly improper way.

The play that night was the farce The Devil to Pay, and the company was
a merry one.  Nicholas and Lucille Sea grave, the Dowager Countess and
Polly, made up a party with Sir Godfrey Or bison and his cousins the Da
cres.  There was a vast number of their acquaintance at Drury Lane that
night and the Dowager Countess spent an entertaining time leaning over
the side of their box and identifying members of the fashionable crowd.
 When she saw Lucille's twin sister Susanna Bolt on the arm of a
distinguished- looking gentleman of military bearing, she dug Lady
Dacre in the ribs.

"Do look, Marianne!  There is the Duke of Gars ton making a fool of
himself over the Cyprian!  Only see how she preens and pouts!  Lord,
what is it about these worthy gentlemen that makes them such easy meat
for her?"

Fortunately, Lucille was engrossed in conversation with Nicholas and
Lord Dacre and did not hear, but Polly leant forward curiously. Susanna
Bolt was looking very striking again, she thought, in her bold and
flaunting style.

There were jewels glittering in her hair and her mouth was a deep,
curving red as she smiled triumphantly over her conquest.  The sapphire
blue eyes which appraised the crowd were the exact shade of Lucille's
but there the resemblance finished, for the Countess of Sea grave had
such a sweetness of character and bearing that it softened every
feature that Susanna's avarice had turned hard.

Polly sighed, just a little envious of Susanna's bold beauty.  She knew
that her own looks were pleasant enough, although she had never been
considered an Incomparable.  The Sea grave colouring of chestnut hair
and dark brown eyes flecked with gold seemed to suit her brothers
better, although her creamy complexion was much admired.  And her
figure was trim rather than voluptuous, which the gentlemen seemed to
prefer.  Polly wondered idly whether Susanna's appearance on Gars ton's
arm indicated that her brief interest in Peter was over or whether she
was just being naive to imagine the Cyprian confining herself to one
man at a time.

"Polly!"  the Dowager Countess said sharply, as a young buck raised his
quizzing glass to ogle her daughter.

"Kindly sit back!  You do not wish to attract the attention of the hoi
polloiV Polly's heart skipped a beat and she sat back slowly, for she
had just seen Lord Henry March night in a box across from them.  He was
in a lively group with Simon Verey, his wife Therese and some of their
friends, all laughing animatedly at a remark Lady Verey had just made.
Polly felt a quiver of envy and repressed it quickly.  It was not that
she was bored with her own party, for she always enjoyed Lucille's
company and the Misses Dacie were pleasant enough, if hen witted.  Just
for once, however, it would be fun to be part of a racier crowd.  She
was forever being chaperoned about by her mother or some other elderly
female relative, which was all very well for a new debutante but
decidedly slow for a lady of twenty- three.  She risked another look
across at the box, to find that Lord Henry was studying her with a
concentrated regard which made her pulse beat faster.

The play began, but Polly found it incredibly difficult to
concentrate.

Normally she became engrossed in a performance, for play going was one
of her favourite entertainments, but tonight all she seemed able to
think about was whether Lord Henry was serious in his pursuit and
whether she should respond.

On the one hand, he could not have any serious intention and since her
feelings were already engaged-- and had been so for five years--she
would be only stirring up all the old emotions that she should be
trying to forget.

On the other hand, she could not deny that she derived immense
enjoyment from his company.  If she managed matters well, perhaps.  But
could she manage Lord Henry?  It would be Very dangerous .  a
challenge, then?  No, a risk and a hazardous one at that.  Foolish even
to consider it, knowing his reputation.  But.  Polly shivered.  A risk
worth taking?  She had found the Season dull, repetitious.

She wanted some excitement.  The prim side of her character, the
orthodox side, was asking her what on earth she was thinking of, to
encourage the attentions of so notorious a rake.

There was a burst of applause, and Polly realised to her horror that
the entire first act had passed without her even noticing.  The
audience started to chatter, to mill around and stretch their legs
before the second act.

Lucille took Polly's arm as they strolled out with everyone else.

"What do you think of Venn's performance, Polly?  Is he as accomplished
as Edmund Keen, do you think?"

Polly floundered.

"Well, perhaps so... Or perhaps not... I need more time to consider--'
She broke off as Lord Henry and the Vereys approached, and was not sure
whether to be glad or nervous at the interruption.

Lord Henry greeted Lucille very warmly, and once again Polly felt a
stirring of jealousy when she considered their friendship.  She was not
unsophisticated enough to think that just because Lord Henry had
suddenly paid some attention to her, he might not be pursuing other
interests.  But surely Lucille could not rank as one of those!  There
was an innocence about the Countess of Sea grave which made such a
thought seem foolish.

Besides, Lucille had now turned her attention to the Vereys, leaving
Polly and Lord Henry standing together.

"Are you enjoying the play, Lady Polly?"  Lord Henry asked
conventionally enough as they strolled down the corridor,

"Yes, thank you, my lord."  Polly was desperately hoping that he would
not question her too closely about it.

"You always enjoyed the theatre, did you not?"  Lord Henry said with a
smile.

"You are not one of those who come only to see and be seen!  I remember
when we came to see As You Like It, you were so enraptured that no one
could get a word from you for a full half-hour afterwards!"

Polly blushed.  She could remember the occasion to which he referred
and the memory troubled her.  It had been very early on in their
acquaintance, when she was first out, and she had sat through the play
in a dream.

Although utterly engrossed in the story, she had still been fully aware
of Lord Henry sitting slightly behind her, his attention as much on her
as it was on the play.  He had leant forward, smiling at her
enthusiasm, and it had seemed to Polly that his enjoyment had derived
as much from her pleasure as from the entertainment.

The bell rang for the second act, saving her the necessity of reply.

"A moment.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry said, when she would have excused
herself and returned to the box.

"Will you drive with me in the park tomorrow?"

 Polly stood still, jostled by those returning to their seats.

"Surely not an unusual request?"  Lord Henry said gently, with a smile
that made her heart race.

"You must be inundated by gentlemen asking to escort you!"

"Yes, but not by you Polly stopped herself.

"I beg your pardon.  What I meant was that you never take a lady up in
your phaeton!"

"Not often," Lord Henry amended, with the same disconcerting smile.

"I am, however, accomplished enough as a whip to make the offer!"

Polly knew he was being deliberately obtuse.  It was not his skill that
was in question but the fact that it would cause a storm of comment if
he took her up.  Lord Henry handed her back into the box as the lights
went down.

"I will see you tomorrow at five," he murmured, taking her acquiescence
for granted, and was gone.  Polly saw him slide into his seat in the
box opposite and incline his head as he saw her watching.  She was
annoyed that he had caught her looking at him yet again, rather than at
the play.

Chapter Tow QsysQ Well, I think it is a famous thing that you and
Harry are now such good friends," Lucille Sea grave declared at
breakfast, when Polly shyly confided that Lord Henry was to take her
driving that afternoon.

"I do not think Mama will view it in quite the same light, Lucille,"
Polly said gloomily.  The Dowager Countess had been almost apoplectic
on finding her only daughter alone on the terrace at Lady Phillips's
with the most notorious rake in Town.  Polly's repeated statement that
she and Lord Henry had only been talking together had met with short
shrift.  Not only did the Dowager disbelieve her but she had some
pungent words to say about young ladies who decided to talk alone with
rake hells.

A moment later, the Dowager swished bad- temperedly into the breakfast
room and eyed her daughter and daughter-in-law with disfavour.

"What are you two whispering about?"  she demanded querulously.  She
asked for a plate of kedgeree then picked at it so disagreeably that
Polly's heart sank.  She could already tell that the Dowager Countess
had a headache, induced by her late night at the theatre, and would be
in a bad mood.

"I was telling Lucille that Lord Henry March night is to take me
driving this aftemooon," she said, rather defiantly.

"He is to collect me at five."

The Dowager flushed an unbecoming puce.

"Driving?  With Lord Henry March night?  Have you taken leave of your
senses, miss?  Why, the man's unsafe!"

"As a whip or as a man Nicholas Sea grave enquired lazily, rustling his
newspaper.  He had given no indication that he had been listening to
the previous conversation, but now Polly saw the look of amusement in
her brother's dark eyes and her heart sank still further.  If Nicholas
objected as well, the trip was as good as ruined.  Lucille gave her
husband a reproving glance.

"I am persuaded that nothing so very dreadful can happen in the park,
ma'am,"

she said mildly to her mother-in-law.

"There will be plenty of people about, after all."

The Dowager cast her a darkling look.

"You have no idea of what that man is capable, Lucille!  And it is not
simply the risk to Polly's person, but the damage to her reputation! If
she is seen in company with him, all claim to respectability would be
lost--' " Oh, come.

Mama, you are making too much of this," Nicholas interrupted.

"Harry March night is a good enough fellow!  He will not do anything to
injure Polly's good name!  I say she should go!"

He folded his paper up a little irritably, got up, bent to kiss his
wife and murmured that he was taking refuge in his book room.

"Some honey in your tea, ma'am?"  Lucille said hastily, seeing her
mother-in-law glare at Sea grave's departing back.

"You know that it is very soothing for the headache."

The Dowager Countess smiled reluctantly.  She was very fond of her
unconventional daughter-in-law.

"Thank you, Lucille.  It is good to know that you have so much concern
for my health when my own brood seem set on tormenting me!  Now, will
you be accompanying me to Mrs Man bury's this afternoon?  I realise
that Polly--' she glared again '--will be otherwise engaged!"

Polly was to remember Sea grave's unlikely championing and her mother's
reluctant acquiescence later, when she was ensconsed in Lord Henry's
perch phaeton and they were bowling along under the trees.  They were
attracting a great deal of attention from the fashionable crowds who
had come to take the air and Polly had begun to wish that she had taken
her mother's advice.  She felt uncomfortable as the focus of so much
speculative interest.  Nor did Lord Henry stop to greet his
acquaintance, but concentrated his attention solely on her.  Polly
thought she should have been flattered.  Instead, such single-minded
attention was beginning to make her nervous.  She was suddenly unsure
where it was leading--or where it might end.

And yet Lord Henry's conversation was unexceptionable.  Surely she had
nothing to fear.

"Are you enjoying the Season?"  he enquired, expertly avoiding an
oncoming vehicle which was being driven with considerably less skill
and more waywardness than his own.

"Do you like London?"

Polly relaxed slightly.  It was most enjoyable to be out in the fresh
air, for it was another sunny day with a cool breeze and to be driven
with such expertise was a real pleasure.

"Are those not two entirely separate questions, my lord?"  she queried
with a smile.

"I have found the Season a little flat this year, but yes, I like
London a great deal, for there are so many beautiful buildings and
interesting sights to observe.  There, will that do?"

Lord Henry took his eyes off the road for long enough to give her an
amused glance.

"Most comprehensively answered, my lady, but with little real
information given!  Why has the Season been so tedious for you?"

Polly shrugged a little uncomfortably, regretting her flippancy.  She
had no desire to sound like a spoilt Society miss.

"Well, the round of parties and balls and entertainments is much like
it was last time.  Perhaps I am becoming a little jaded after all these
years--' Lord Henry burst out laughing.

"Yes, you have a great many years in your dish, ma'am!"  He lowered his
voice.

"Perhaps it is just that you need a change of scene?  Do you go to
Bright on in the summer?"

Polly nodded without much enthusiasm.

"We do.  But it is the same people and the same diversions!"  She
brightened.

"I love the sea though, and find the air most refreshing.  I don't know
why I should not be looking forward to it..."  Her voice trailed away.
She was regretting telling him of her boredom with the endless,
superficial round of society events, for it sounded as though she were
simply complaining.

"Perhaps you prefer the country?"  Lord Henry was saying
thoughtfully.

"Suffolk is a beautiful place to be.  You seemed very happy at Dilling
ham last year."

 "Yes..."  Polly smiled '. I love Dilling ham.  I can ride, and paint
and walk and please myself.  " Lord Henry flashed her another smile.

"So you are a rebel at heart.  Lady Polly!  You wish to please yourself
rather than follow the fashion!"

It was an appealing concept.

"Gentlemen are more fortunate when it comes to such matters," Polly
observed judiciously.

"You may do as you please, but we are watched over and instructed and
restricted... And if we marry, the tyranny of our parents is exchanged
for the tyranny of a husband!"

Filled with a sudden sense of absurdity at her own words, she started
to laugh.

"I wondered whether that was why you had never married," Lord Henry
said quietly.

"Is that the reason, ma'am?  That you had no wish to exchange a
circumscribed girlhood for an equally restrictive marriage?"

Polly's laughter faded and she fell silent.  The only sound was the
noise of the phaeton's wheels and the cooing of the doves in the shady
trees.

"No," she said slowly, 'that was not the reason that I have never
married.  " "Then will you tell me what it is?"  They had reached a
quiet stretch of the road and Lord Henry was allowing his team to slow
down while he concentrated on her.  Their eyes met for a split second
of tension.

"No," Polly said again, half-lightly, half in earnest, "I shall not,
sir!

You have no right to ask so leading a question on so small an
acquaintance!  " She saw Lord Henry smile as he accepted her refusal
and allowed her to retreat.

"I protest," he said easily.

"I have known you for years, ma'am, yet you insist we are as
strangers!"

 "We may have been acquainted for years," Polly agreed, equally
casually, 'but for most of that time you have been away, sir,
travelling or entertaining yourself.  " She frowned as it occurred to
her that she did not actually know what it was that had taken Lord
Henry away so often.

Society whispered that it was scandal--women, gambling, racing--but no
one actually knew.  "Very true, ma'am," Lord Henry agreed, clearly
unprepared to enlighten her further.

"Like you, I find Society stifling if I spend too long in its company!
I have noticed a change in London lately.  Oh, the ton enjoy themselves
as much as before, with as many outrageous amusements as they can
devise, but the rest of the populace is not as tolerant as it used to
be!"

Polly knew what he meant.  There were so many of the dispossessed on
the streets, looking resentfully as the rich and fashionable passed by,
so many men who had served their country at war and now had no
occupation in peace time.  There were many who preached against the
accepted order and agitated for change and some who would be prepared
to resort to violence to get it.

"There is a sort of anger about the city at times," Polly agreed,
shivering in the cool air.

"I sometimes wonder how long things can stay unchanged..."

"Melancholy thoughts for so bright a day," Lord Henry observed.

"My apologies for striking a discordant note.  Why, look, is that not
your esteemed relative Lady Bolt, over there?  Your brother will be
desolate that she has found a richer man in the Duke of Gars ton!"

"Oh, dear!"  Polly looked across to the approaching curricle, where
Lady Bolt was arrayed in a dress of scarlet silk entirely unsuitable
for an afternoon's drive.  A hat adorned with curling ostrich plumes
framed her face.  Polly felt both dowdy and insignificant in
comparison.

"Henry!"  Lady Bolt was hailing them now, with more familiarity than
Polly liked to see.

"How delightful to see you!  Why--' her eye fell on Polly in amused
scorn '--hardly your usual taste, my dear?  So sweet and tediously
dull!"

Polly flushed with anger and mortification.  It would have been
impossible to miss Lady Bolt since the two carriages had to pass each
other, and as she and Henry had slowed down to talk, the Cyprian had
come upon them almost unawares.  Nevertheless it was unfortunate.  The
Dowager Countess would have a fit if she heard of the meeting, and as
for Lady Bolt's barbed insults, it strained Polly's natural courtesy to
accept them without retaliation.

"How do you do.  Lady Bolt."  Lord Henry spoke very coldly.

"I fear I was so engrossed in Lady Polly's delightful company that I
missed your approach!

Good day, ma'am!  " And he gave the horses the office to move off.

"Oh, dear," Polly said again, when the infuriated Cyprian had been left
behind, 'it is so very difficult!  Lucille is so charming and her
sister so much her opposite!  I would not for all the world cut her
dead, but--' "But you have little choice," Lord Henry said grimly.

"Society dictates that a lady such as yourself should not even know
what Lady Bolt is, let alone speak to her--as well you know, ma'am!"

"Yes, but--' Polly was a kind girl; although she detested Susanna
Bolt's nature, she could not help but feel uncomfortable.

"Lucille once said that they were both obliged to find the means to
support themselves, and Susanna chose one course and Lucille another!
It is easy to judge when one has not had to make such a choice!"

"You are all generosity.  Lady Polly!"  Polly knew Lord Henry was
laughing at her, albeit somewhat ruefully.

"Console yourself with the fact that Susanna Bolt is a harpy and you
will then feel no need to sympathize with her!"

"You seem to know her very well," Polly said un guardedly, piqued by
his amusement.

"I know her type," Lord Henry conceded.  They turned through the park
gates and back towards Brook Street.

"I am happy to continue this entirely improper conversation," he added,
'but only if you are willing to admit to being its instigator!  I will
not take the blame for discussing matters unsuitable for a lady's ears!
" "Society can be very foolish," Polly said crossly, 'dictating what a
lady may and may not do, or hear, or say!  It puts me out of all
patience!  " The phaeton stopped and Lord Henry jumped lightly down,
holding out a hand to help Polly descend.  He did not allow their
bodies to touch as he swung her to the ground, nor did he hold on to
her hand for longer than was strictly necessary.  Polly found herself
disappointed.  For some reason the drive had ended on an unsatisfactory
note.  Polly was inclined to blame Lady Bolt's interruption, although
honesty prompted her that this was not really true.

It seemed that she was dissatisfied when Lord Henry behaved properly
and nervous when he did not.  Flirtation was clearly not a game she
could play with anywhere near Lord Henry's aplomb.

The flower cart arrived early in Brook Street the following day,
bringing a beautiful posy of pale pink roses for Polly and a card from
Lord Henry saying that he had been called unexpectedly from Town, but
hoped to see her again shortly.  Polly did not even attempt to hide her
pleasure in the gift, merely burying her face in the soft fragrant
petals when Jessie made pointed comments about fine gentlemen and
pretty gestures.

The days of Lord Henry's absence crept by.  There were only a few weeks
of the Season left to run and the weather had turned very hot.  The
Dowager Countess became quite peevish when her ankles swelled up in the
heat.  She declined to accompany Polly and the Da cres on a sightseeing
trip to St Paul's Cathedral and when her daughter returned enervated
and exhausted, told her that she had known the weather had been too
inclement for a trip out.

She fretted over Peter's absence and when he did call, upbraided him
for his foolishness in still running after Susanna Bolt.  The servants
all became very bad-tempered as they went about their work, and the
house in Brook Street became a somewhat uncomfortable place to live.

"Everyone is so cross at the moment," Polly sighed to Lucille, after
Jessie had grumbled ceaselessly over her decision to change her chosen
dress for a soiree one night.

"Have you noticed how the heat makes people quicker-tempered?  It's
very strange.  Thank goodness there is to be no dancing tonight!  I
feel sure we should all melt into a puddle!"

 Lucille fanned herself vigorously.

"I hear that there were riots in The Strand last night," she said,
frowning.

"Some windows were smashed and shops looted.  I am sure that this
weather can only add to people's grievances.  I shall ask Nicholas to
give all the servants a day off on Saturday, and perhaps we may all go
out of Town to somewhere cooler.

Hamp stead Wells, perhaps?  A walk on the Heath might be quite
refreshing.  " Even the Dowager Countess agreed to the proposed trip,
feeling that the village air would be less noxious than that in London.
The day was sunny but not too hot and they spent a most enjoyable few
hours strolling on the Heath, playing bowls, and taking the waters at
the spa.  Polly declared the water so unpleasant that she needed a cup
of tea to wash away the taste, so they retired to one of the
honeysuckle-covered tea arbours for further refreshment.

"Oh, do let us stay a little longer," Lucille urged, catching sight of
a sign which promised a concert in the pump-room that evening, followed
by fireworks.

"There are plenty more of the gardens and grottoes to explore and it
would be such fun to stay for the evening's entertainments!"

The light was fading when the concert finished and they came out on to
the Heath for the firework display.  It was busy and many of the
benches on the edge of the hill were already full.

"Heavens, what a crush!"  The Dowager Countess exclaimed.

"I had no idea that the whole of Town would have come out for this! Let
us walk a little way along and see if we can find any seats!"

Polly was dawdling along behind the others, pulling her velvet cloak
closer, for the evening was cool now that the sun had gone.  A florid
gentleman and large lady, amorously entwined, bumped into her and
almost sent her flying without noticing.

Polly stumbled.  The first of the rockets soared into the sky above her
and scattered a trail of bright stars.  Suddenly it was very dark and
she could not see the others at all.  The crowd pressed about her;
ladies, gentlemen, servants, tradesmen, cits and people of quite
another sort.

A voice said: "All alone, lady?  Let me take care of you!"  He was
young and attired as a gentleman, but Polly knew him to be no such
thing.  He was also drunk.  And as she looked around wildly for her
family, he took her arm.

"Your help will not be necessary, sir," a voice said smoothly, from
behind her.

"The lady is with me, but I am grateful to you for your
consideration."

Polly recognised the voice even before she swung around to see Lord
Henry March night standing so protectively close to her.  Something in
his demeanour also communicated itself to the man who had accosted her,
for he mumbled something about meaning no harm, and stumbled away. Lord
Henry watched him go with a slight smile then turned his attention back
to Polly.

"Tell me.  Lady Polly," he said conversationally, steering her out of
the crowd to the edge of the path, 'is this part of your claim for
independence, to wander alone on Hamp stead Heath in the dark?  It
seems rather foolhardy!

" "Don't be absurd!"  Polly snapped.  Reaction was setting in now and
she was horrified at what had almost happened to her.

"I have become separated from my party, that is all!  We were looking
for seats for the fireworks--' Another rocket soared overhead as
though to illustrate her point.

"Well, they could be anywhere now," Lord Henry said resignedly, looking
at the crowds.

"It will be best for me to escort you back to your carriage, I think.
They should have no trouble in finding you there.  Is Sea grave here
with you?"

Polly nodded.

"Thank God.  He at least will have the sense to keep the others calm
and search for you in a sensible fashion!  Now, if we go down this path
it should take us to the Well Walk.  Did you leave your carriage
there?"

Polly nodded unhappily.  She knew that the Dowager Countess would be
beside herself with worry and could not but regret spoiling the end of
such a lovely day.

"We were having such a nice time," she said regretfully.

"I am sorry that it has had to end this way."

It was very dark down the steep little passage that led to the street
where the carriages were waiting.  The scent of honeysuckle still hung
in the air and the stars arched above them.  Polly, trying to find her
way in the dark, suddenly remembered that she had not even thanked Lord
Henry for rescuing her.

"I am sorry," she said in a small voice, "I should have thanked you.
Your arrival was most timely, my lord.  I hope that I have not taken
you away from your friends?"

"I am here alone," Lord Henry said, sounding preoccupied.

"It is comforting to think that you feel safer with me than with that
ruffian!"

This was an aspect of the situation that had not occurred to Polly at
all.

She stopped in an arched doorway.  It was not possible to see Lord
Henry's face in the pale light.

"Oh, I never even thought--' she said, uncertainly.

"Perhaps you should have done."  Lord Henry sounded grim.

"You were flatteringly quick to entrust yourself to me, but my
reputation is scarce such that a young lady should consider taking a
walk in the dark with me!"

"Well!"  Polly had had time to become indignant.

"I think it most unfair of you to ring a peal over me for trusting you,
sir!

I had little choice but to consider you the lesser of two evils!"

She heard Lord Henry laugh at that.

"Better the devil you know?"  His shoulder brushed a spray of
honeysuckle and released fresh scent into the air.  He was very close
and Polly suddenly became intensely aware of his physical presence. Her
throat felt constricted.

"Besides..."  she was clutching at straws now 'on the last occasion
that we met, sir, you behaved with perfect propriety!  It led me to
believe that what I had heard of you was grossly exaggerated--' She had
taken a cautious step forward as she spoke, missed her footing on a
step, and felt Lord Henry's arms go around her to steady her.

"You misjudged me," Lord Henry said with satisfaction, 'and this.  Lady
Polly, is where I have been wanting you ever since I saw you this
evening.  " The dark night was intimate and warm.  Polly felt curiously
anonymous, as though she could say anything, do anything, without it
really mattering.

She did not try to break away from him, but stood in the circle of his
arms, their bodies touching lightly.  In the silence she could hear him
breathing.

She raised her mouth to Henry's, waiting in a fever of anticipation
for the gentle persuasiveness of his first kiss to deepen into passion.
She pressed herself against him, entwining her arms about his neck to
hold him close.  He was keeping his kisses frustratingly light, but
when Polly slid her hands into his hair she heard him groan and his
mouth returned to hers with more force and more demand.  She parted her
lips beneath the sensual pressure of his and leaned back against the
doorway, drawing him with her.  It was as though she had become a
creature of sensation only.  Her cloak had slid back and she could feel
the warmth of his body against hers creating a delicious, seductive
need within her.

One of his hands brushed the cloak aside and moved to caress her breast
very gently.  His mouth was rough on hers now and she revelled in it,
gasping his name against his lips.  And then, suddenly, it was over and
she was left shivering in the chill breeze.

"Enough, sweetheart!  It seems I misjudged you, too.  Such sweet
responsiveness will be my undoing!"

There was an undertone of laughter in Henry's voice, but he still
sounded shaken.

"My innocent, wayward Lady Polly--have you any idea just what you are
doing?"

With great deliberation he pulled her cloak close about her and turned
her around.

Polly felt cold and bereft.  She wanted to be back in his arms, wanted
it quite dreadfully.  And yet, all she had ever been taught suggested
that this had to be wrong.  It was desperately confusing.

"I'm sorry--' she began, in a small voice, but Henry took her arm in a
comforting hold.

"Do not be.  It was my fault.  I thought I knew what I was doing, but
you proved me wrong."  She saw him grin.

"You may have been smothered in propriety but it seems there may be a
chance to redeem you!"  He took Polly's face in his hands and kissed
her again lightly.

"Now, we must go down to the Well Walk before I forget myself even
further."

He took her hand and drew Polly reluctantly down the remaining steps,
taking care to let her go before they emerged into the lamplight.  The
carriages were all drawn up on the Walk and Lucille and the Dowager
Countess were already there, turning hopefully at the sound of
footsteps, their faces breaking into relief.

"Polly!  Poor child!  Whatever has happened to you?  You're shaking!"

Lucille enfolded her in a comforting hug.  Over Polly's head she said
to Henry,

"Nicholas is scouring the Terrace, but he should be back directly!

Oh, he will be so grateful.  Henry!  We were so worried!"

Polly shrank into the shadows whilst the Dowager Countess pressed her
slightly more grudging thanks on Lord Henry.  She was sure that she
must look as bemused and dazed as she felt.

"Thank God she came to no harm," the Dowager was saying gruffly, eyeing
her daughter's flustered face and fortunately attributing her confusion
to the shock of being lost.

"We are indebted to you, sir."

Lord Henry smiled.

"By great good chance Lady Polly came to no lasting hurt this evening."
His eyes met Polly's and she saw the wicked twinkle there.  She hoped
desperately that it was dark enough to hide her burning face.

"Do not be too hard on her, ma'am!  I have taken her to task enough for
her behaviour!"

"Harry Marehnight playing the moralist!"  the Dowager Countess said as
the coach rumbled home.

"Who would have thought it!  Evidently he has an understanding of
proper behaviour after all!  I expect he was most uncompromising!"

Polly shivered, remembering the explosive heat of the encounter with
Henry.

There had certainly been little of compromise about it.

"He was indeed, Mama!"  she said, and only Lucille saw the shadow of a
smile that touched her sister-in-law's mouth as she sat back in her
corner of the carriage and dreamed.

It was much later that night when Lord Henry March night strolled
unobtrusively into the card room at White's and glanced around with
apparent lack of interest at the games that were in progress.  At one
table an older gentleman of military bearing was winning steadily at
whist, a shrewd look in his eye and a glass of water at his elbow.

"Fitz patrick has the luck of the devil," Simon Verey said in Lord
Henry's ear.

"How does he do it?"

"Easily," Lord Henry said laconically, without turning his head.

"He is sober--the others are drunk.  It is an unequal contest."

Verey grinned.

"You look as though you could do with a drink yourself.

Harry!  You're uncommon serious tonight!  Is it love or business that
prompts such severity?  " Lord Henry smiled reluctantly.

"A little of both, perhaps... Mr Dit ton is losing heavily," he added
with apparent irrelevance, nodding towards a table where a dandy clad
entirely in yellow was slumped in his chair, scowling ferociously at
the cards in his hand.

Verey was no fool and he knew more than most about Lord Henry's
preoccupations.

 "Dit ton has always been intemperate in his habits," he observed
quietly, 'but lately.  " "Yes, he plays too deep--' Lord Henry broke
off to greet an acquaintance and turned away from the card tables,
moving to a quieter corner.

"Another one for whom matters do not prosper," Verey said, watching
Peter Sea grave weaving his way a little unsteadily between the
tables.

"Extraordinary, I always thought him the most straightforward of the
family!

Nick Sea grave was the very devil for gambling and women before his
marriage and now he's as quiet as a lamb and it's Peter who has lost
fifty thousand in one sitting!"

Lord Henry winced.

"As bad as that?"  he asked.  "And in one of Lady Bolt's preferred
gaming hells, I have no doubt!"

Verey shrugged.

"She has her claws into him now, for all she's after Gars ton's fortune
as well!  He would have done better to settle for that sweet little
Miss Mark ham!"

"In praise of marriage, Simon?"  Lord Henry said mockingly.

"You have become quite the old married man yourself these two years
past!"

Verey grinned a little self-consciously.

"I'll not deny that I count myself the most fortunate of men to have
found Therese," he said, a little gruffly.

"I am only here tonight because my sister Jane is up from the country
and the two of them sent me out so that they could have agossip in
peace!"

"How does the Duchess?"  Henry asked lightly, smiling as always to
think of Jane Verey with so weighty a title.  Her brother laughed.

"She does very well, I thank you!  I shall pass on your regards!  I
doubt she will be in Town for long, for Delahaye returns from the
continent shortly and will no doubt be in haste to claim his wife!  Ah,
these tales of married bliss!  One might almost consider it fashionable
to dote on one's spouse these days!"

Henry took a glass of wine proffered by a passing waiter.

"Almost you convince me, Simon!"

"You?  Parson's mousetrap?"  Verey looked almost comically surprised.

"Do I know the lady?"

"You should do," Henry murmured.

"She is the only one I have ever evinced an interest in marrying!"

Verey spluttered into his wine.

"But...!  presume you mean... But that was five years ago, old fellow!
Mean to say, I thought it was a thing of the past!"

"So it was, but not any more."

"Well!"  Verey sat down a little heavily.

"Am I to wish you happy, then?"

"Not yet."  Lord Henry's gaze returned thoughtfully to the slouching
figure of Tristan Dit ton.

"Certain business is getting in the way.  When it concludes..."

There was a crash from across the room as Peter Sea grave tried to take
his place at a faro table, clutched unsteadily at his chair and
succeeded only in overturning it and drawing attention to himself.

"Hope she has more steadiness of character than her brother," Verey
said gloomily.

Lord Henry grinned.

"Oh, decidedly!  And it may be unchivalrous in me to say so, but she
holds her drink with a great deal more charm!"

Chapter Five QzrfpsQ It will not be long before Mama warns me," Polly
said gloomily as she and Lucille strolled along Bond Street in search
of items for Lucille's belated wedding trip.

"Oh, look, Lucille, those satin dancing slippers are the most exquisite
things!  Why do you not take those with you?"

"I fear they will see little wear in the Lake District," Lucille
observed mildly.

"A pair of stout walking boots would be more the thing!"

"And a parasol to keep the sun off!  Mama would consider it deplorable
for you to return with a tan!"

Lucille laughed.

"A fine figure I shall cut in boots and a parasol!  Why do you not buy
the slippers yourself?"

But Polly's gaze had alighted on an embroidered reticule which would
look perfect with her striped walking dress.

"I have only enough of my allowance left for one purchase," she said
regretfully.

"Oh, look at those beautiful silk gloves!  Now I am in a quandary!"

Lucille laughed.

"Do you need any of these things?"

"Oh, no!  At least--' Polly wrinkled up her nose.

 "Not need, precisely, but it would be pleasant to have them!  Am I
monstrously extravagant?"

Lucille, who privately thought that her sister-in-law was surprisingly
un spoilt for all her privileged upbringing, reassured her that this
was not the case at all.

Once the reticule had been settled upon and bought, and they were
walking on, Lucille said suddenly, "I was attending to you really! What
is it that she will warn you about, Polly?"

Polly looked puzzled, then her face cleared.

"Oh, about Lord Henry March night!  In fact, I am surprised that Mama
has not spoken before now!

It is unlike her to allow me so much licence!  " In the previous two
weeks.  Lord Henry had been much in evidence in Brook Street, calling
on Polly, taking her riding or driving, accompanying her to routs,
parties and picnics.  Polly had tried to take his attentions lightly
but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think that he might
have serious intentions and, oddly, Lucille's next words echoed this.

"I believe that your mama is in a dilemma, Polly," she said
thoughtfully.

"She feels that she should warn you against Lord Henry's advances, but
she cannot quite disabuse herself of the hope that he is in earnest!
Not even your mama is prepared to offend the Duke and Duchess of March
night by suggesting that one of their sons is not a suitable match for
her daughter!"

Polly bit her lip.

"Do you truly think... I try not to let myself hope too much, but--'
She broke off.

"I dare say I should not set too much store by his behaviour.  After
all, he is a shocking flirt!"

"He has not flirted with anyone else since he started to pay serious
court to you," Lucille pointed out quietly.

The colour flooded Polly's face, then receded to leave her very pale.

"No, that's true!  I had not thought... But perhaps he is only flirting
with meY " You may judge for yourself whether Lord Henry is sincere,"
Lucille said with a little smile, 'for I see him coming this way!"

It was true.  Lord Henry March night, in company with the Vereys and a
young lady of schoolroom appearance, was sauntering along the pavement
towards them.  Polly saw him quicken his step as he caught sight of
them and the two parties met and greeted each other with unaffected
pleasure.

"Lady Sea grave!  Lady Polly!"  Lord Henry was smiling at Polly in a
way that made her feel suddenly rather hot.

"What good fortune!"  He turned to the very young lady by his side.

"May I make you known to my sister Laura?"

Laura March night, simply but expensively clad in the demure apparel of
the debutante, dropped a shy curtsy.  She was a sweet-looking girl with
the same corn-coloured hair and grey eyes as her brother.  Polly
remembered hearing that Lady Laura was delicate and had recently
returned from a trip to Bath Spa with her mother, where the medicinal
waters had apparently done wonders for her health.

"We were just planning an outing to Richmond," Henry was saying, his
gaze still fixed rather disconcertingly on Polly.

"Tomorrow, if the weather stays fair.  We would be delighted if you
were able to join us--' he turned courteously to Lucille '--and Lord
Sea grave as well, of course, if he is free."

Lucille, who had been exchanging a few words with Therese and Simon
Verey, looked rueful.

"We are promised for a visit tomorrow and cannot cry off," she said
apologetically, 'but I am persuaded that Polly would be able to make up
one of your party.  What do you think, Polly?  Are you already engaged
for tomorrow?  " Polly shook herself out of the slight confusion which
Lord Henry's presence always seemed to stir up in her.

"Oh, no... yes... indeed!  I have no other plans!  I should be
delighted!"

Therese Verey smiled.

"I am sure your mama will let me stand as chaperon!

Laura is to accompany us, and Simon's sister Jane Delahaye, and one or
two others.  It will be great fun!  " "We thought to ride," Lord Henry
murmured.

"I understand that you are a keen horsewoman.  Lady Polly.  Would such
a plan meet with your approval?"

Polly turned her glowing face to his.

"Oh, indeed, that would be most enjoyable!  I have missed riding out
since I have been up in Town!"

They parted in mutual accord, having agreed that Lord Henry would call
for Polly in his phaeton and drive her to Richmond.  The Vereys
undertook to provide the horses from Simon's extensive stables and
Polly started to look forward to the excursion very much.  She hurried
home to review her wardrobe, certain that she had absolutely nothing to
wear that was worthy of a trip to Richmond with Lord Henry March night.
After she had considered every dress she owned, draping them over the
bed and holding them up in the nun-or, a grumbling Jessie pointed out
that she would be wearing a riding habit anyway.

That meant a choice of green, red or navy blue and Polly chose the
blue, then spent almost the entire evening at the musicale they were
all attending, wondering whether she had made the correct choice.  She
was then struck by the awful thought that it might rain on the morrow
even though it had not done so for several weeks.  All in all, it was a
wonder she had any sleep that night.

Fortunately, it proved to be the most perfect day for a ride.  Polly
had greatly enjoyed the drive to Richmond and the party had met up at
the Roe hampton Gate, taken a ride to Pen Ponds and were now turning
back for a cold collation at the Star and Garter Inn.

"I had no idea that you were such an accomplished rider, ma'am," Henry
March night said to Polly as, out of breath and laughing with
exhilaration, she slowed to a canter as the Gate came in sight once
more.

"I had heard that you were keen, but the two are not always synonymous!
I should have suggested such an outing much sooner!"

His frank gaze admired the colour in her cheeks and the brightness of
her eyes.

"It is pleasant to escape the confines of the Town, is it not?"

Something in his tone reminded Polly of the night at Hamp stead Wells,
when Henry had told her that she was a rebel by nature.  Certainly her
unrestrained enjoyment of a gallop through the park seemed to prove his
point.  They had not approached the intimacy of that night at Hamp
stead again; indeed.  Henry seemed very careful to avoid any behaviour
that could be construed as questionable.  He made sure that they were
never alone together and he treated Polly with utmost propriety.  She
found his behaviour puzzling, to say the least.  She sensed that it did
not come naturally to him to keep himself on so tight a rein, and yet
she was half-grateful that he did not attempt to shorten the distance
between them.  She was confused by her feelings for him.  On the one
hand she wanted more, far more, from him, but she was still held back
by the constraints of her upbringing.

Now, to give herself time, she turned away and studied the sweep of the
land towards the river, the charming little woods scattered about them
and the herds of deer grazing peacefully in the distance.

"Have you seen John Boy dell's aqua tints of the river?"  Lord Henry
said casually, slowing his horse to a walk to allow the rest of the
group to catch them up.

"They are held to be very pretty, I believe."

"Yes," Polly smiled.

"They are quite charming.  And it is such fun to be able to match his
pictures to all the places along the river, but I do believe that he
gives a more rural feel to the prints than is truly accurate!"

"I must suppose that anyone brought up in Suffolk considers the area
around London to be too close to the city to be truly rural," Lord
Henry observed.

"And no doubt I shall shortly be reminded of the difference for myself.
Were you aware that we are to spend some time near Wood bridge this
summer?  My mother has decided that it would be good for Laura's health
to go to the seaside, but to avoid crowds and excitement."

There was something dry in his tone which suggested to Polly that Henry
had very similar views to her own on the Duchess of March night's
mollycoddling of her youngest daughter.  Lady Laura was a little ahead
of them now on her grey mare, her charming countenance turned towards
young Lord Blakeney, who was evincing every sign of pleasure at being
her chosen escort.  Certainly Laura looked the picture of health and
was revelling in the outing and the company.

"I am sorry that Lady Laura has been unwell," Polly said cautiously,
'but she seems much recovered now.  The waters at Bath must have a
remarkably curative effect!  And I hope," she added hastily, seeing
Henry's look of amusement, 'that she will find Suffolk similarly
restorative and not too dull!"

"Alas, I am the one who is likely to find the country slow," Henry said
humourously, 'especially as it will be devoid of your presence, Lady
Polly, which is the only thing that might have made it tolerable for
me!  " Polly could not help blushing.  She was also regretting rather
strongly the Dowager Countess's avowed intent of spending the summer in
Bright on.

Perhaps she could contrive a stay at Dilling ham?  But she did not want
Lord Henry to feel too encouraged.  "Nonsense, Lord Henry," she said
bracingly.

"You have told me many times that you consider Suffolk a vastly
pleasant county!  I am sure you will find plenty to amuse you there!"

Lord Henry's lips twitched.

"It was such a pretty compliment too," he murmured.

"I am sorry it did not please you."

Polly tried not to smile.

"It was very pretty," she agreed solemnly, 'but I was not sure how much
it was worth!  " Lord Henry burst out laughing.

"I cannot put you out of countenance, can I, Lady Polly?  You may take
it as true--I should be very sorry to spend the summer months out of
your company!"

Fortunately for Polly's composure, Therese Verey brought her horse
alongside at that point and Henry fell back to talk to Simon.  They
clattered into the yard of the Star and Garter and were pleased to find
themselves expected and a delicious cold collation laid out on trestles
in the garden.  Polly, drawn into conversation with Therese and Jane
Delahaye over the meal, only noticed Lord Henry's absence as the party
gathered itself to depart.

"Where is Henry?"  Lady Laura asked innocently, as they walked slowly
through the arch into the inn courtyard.

"He was here a moment ago!  I thought-- Oh!"

"Rather showy," Polly heard Simon Verey say to Lord Blakeney, 'and too
short of bone-- Oh, I say!  " The scene in the courtyard appeared to
have a similar effect on all members of the party.  One moment, Polly
thought, they had been chatting amongst themselves and the next they
had all fallen into horrified silence.

There was a carriage drawn up in the yard, pulled by the four showy
white horses which Lord Verey had just been disparaging.  Lord Henry
March night was leaning against the side of the coach and chatting to
its occupant, a smile of appreciation on his lips.  As he saw the group
emerge from the garden he straightened up and Polly saw a fleeting look
of annoyance cross his face as though he had no wish to be interrupted.
A moment later, the lady in the carriage had leaned out and, taking
Henry by surprise, planted a lingering kiss on his mouth.

There was no doubt that Lady Bolt had staged the action for maximum
effect.

From within the carriage she would have seen Henry's companions emerge
through the archway and her sense of malice had done the rest.  And
whilst Henry moved away from her as quickly as he could, the damage
was done.  All the witnesses had an image of Lady Bolt's hands resting
lightly on Henry's shoulders as she lowered her smiling scarlet mouth
to his for several long seconds.  Polly winced at the sight.

After that, everything became a little confused.  Lady Bolt's carriage
rolled out of the yard, rather in the manner of the wicked fairy
vanishing in a pantomime.  Simon Verey had a quick word with Henry, who
seemed to disappear as quickly as Lady Bolt had done.

"In front of his own sister too," Lord Blakeney was saying, outraged,
as he shepherded a pink-faced Laura March night protectively into the
inn.

"Lady Laura, please wait here whilst I have my phaeton brought round!
You cannot drive back with Lord Henry after that--' But here Laura
March night proved surprisingly obstinate.

"I assure you, Lord Blakeney, I have no difficulty in accepting my
brother's escort back to Berkeley Square.  I should be delighted if he
chose to take me up!"

It was a shame Lord Blakeney could not see that he was doing himself
great disservice in Laura's eyes by criticising her brother, Polly
thought.  She was very loyal to Henry.

Polly saw the look of mingled regret and exasperation that passed
between Therese Verey and Jane Delahaye, as Therese said to her, "Lady
Polly, it would be best, perhaps, if both you and Lady Laura drive back
with us.  It will be a bit of a squeeze, but I am sure none of us will
mind..."

And Simon Verey had hastened away to attend to the setting to of his
carriage.

 Polly felt dazed and a little sick.  Whilst she had common sense
enough to see that Lady Bolt had planned the whole encounter, the
memory of it filled her with revulsion.  And Henry was hardly
blameless.  He had been chatting to the Cyprian only a moment earlier
and had obviously been enjoying her company.  Perhaps he had even
arranged to meet her there to arrange a tryst later that day!  Polly's
lost hopes mocked her.  She had begun to believe Henry sincere, to
trust him.  Well, now she saw the error of her ways!

Polly spent the whole of the journey back to Brook Street in a numb
silence and then went straight to her room, declining to tell even
Lucille about the events of the day.  Miserably she wondered why Lord
Henry had made no attempt to see or speak to her before they had left.
He had disappeared with the speed of a man effecting a guilty exit. Had
he approached her it would have been difficult to know how to deal with
the situation, but she would have preferred to have had that
opportunity.

Evidently he had not cared sufficiently about her opinion to make an
effort to explain to her.

Defiantly, Polly put on her favourite dress and prepared for the ball
at Mrs Fleetwood's that evening.  If she was going to have to face Lord
Henry March night and the attendant scandal, she was determined to look
her best.

As Polly had anticipated and dreaded, the tale was all over Town.

"How foolish of Harry..."  Lucille sighed, as she and Polly fended off
the fifth curious gossipmonger 'and how unlike him!  " "I collect you
mean he was foolish to be caught," Polly said tartly.  She sat down
rather heavily and rubbed a foot where her dainty dancing shoes were
pinching.  It did not add to her good humour.

Lucille looked reproachful.

"I mean to have allowed himself to have been trapped by Susanna!  She
is forever up to these little tricks just to amuse herself!"

Polly thought that Lucille was probably right, but she did not have any
sympathy for Henry.

"I am persuaded that Lady Bolt did not force him into any situation
unwillingly," she said coldly.

"I think you are too indulgent of his folly, Lucille!"

Lucille raised her eyebrows at this reproach.

"Well, upon my word, you are very harsh!  Susanna has succeeded
admirably!"

This caught Polly's attention.

"Whatever can you mean, Lucille?"

"Why, simply that Susanna is currently engaged in an attempt to ruin
the future for yourself and Henry!  She has already succeeded in
improving on the estrangement between Peter and Hetty.  I think..."
Lucille smiled serenely '. I hope that she will not accomplish a break
between Nicholas and myself!

I think that beyond even her charms!  " Polly was staring at her
sister-in-law in horror.  "You think that this is all a plot of Lady
Bolt's?"

"Assuredly!  She will engineer any chance to cause trouble!  You should
know that by now, Polly--' Lucille broke off with a little gasp and,
turning her head, Polly saw that the object of their discussions had
just come into the ballroom.  As if to underline Lucille's words,
Susanna Bolt was hanging heavily on the arm of Peter Sea grave.

 "Oh, truly," Lucille said, sounding more vexed than Polly had ever
heard her, 'this is the outside of enough!  " It had been an
unenjoyable evening.  Polly danced a few desultory dances, chatted
half-heartedly and waited in vain for Lord Henry March night to make an
appearance.  They retired early, leaving Lady Bolt in triumphant
possession of the floor and of Peter Sea- grave, and the Dowager
Countess railed ceaselessly against her all the way home.  Polly slept
fitfully and woke with a headache.

"Do you come with me to the Royal Humane Society lecture this
afternoon?"

Lucille asked, finding her sister-in-law sitting quietly in the
drawing-room that lunchtime.  Her eye fell on the improving book which
Polly had been reading earlier.

"Or perhaps you are so enthralled in that righteous to me that you have
no wish to go out!  Etiquette for young ladies!  Upon my word!"

Polly laughed, despite herself.  Etiquette and deportment might be very
uplifting and suitable for a young lady, but it was also tedious.
Somehow the disastrous scene at Richmond had prompted her to revert to
all that was proper and conventional.  She entertained no more hopes of
reforming a rake, particularly as the rake in question clearly cared so
little for her opinion of him that he had not troubled to seek her
out.

The Royal Humane Society sounded to be a very suitable place for a lady
of charity to spend some time and at least she would not be bothered
by Lord Henry's presence there!  Feeling pleasantly virtuous, she
agreed to join Lucille on the outing.

The marble entrance hall of the Royal Humane Society was cool and
shadowy after the brightness of the day outside.  The ladies furled
their parasols and hurried to join the group of people going into the
lecture room.

Polly was astonished to see a number of their acquaintance there.  She
had thought that this latest interest of Lucille's was yet another
slightly eccentric and obscure hobby, but now found that the Society
was a magnet for the fashionable.

"I had no idea that such a lecture would be so popular," she murmured
in Lucille's ear as they slid into their seats and a gentleman nearby
raised his hat and murmured a greeting.  The room was filling rapidly.
Across the aisle, Polly could see the Huntlys and Lady Havisham, and
returned the wave of Miss Dit- ton, a neighbour of the Sea graves from
Suffolk.

"The Society has become a popular means of exercising benevolence,"
Lucille replied quietly.

"You remember that I told you it was originally established by two
doctors to promote resuscitation?  It now hands out medals and rewards
to those people who have helped save lives.  I believe that a small
group of members are researching means of reviving the drowned and the
hanged..."

Polly shuddered.

"How very unpleasant!  I am all in favour of exercising benevolence,
and indeed I suppose that genuine scientific research should never be
discouraged, but what can be the attraction for some of these people?
Why, it is positively ghoulish!"

She touched Lucille's arm.

"Look at Mr Dit ton, for instance!  He is almost slav- Nicola Comtek
87 ering as he talks to that gentleman over there and his eyes are
gleaming with unholy excitement!  Ugh, unwholesome man!  And you cannot
tell me that Mr and Miss Dit ton are here because they like to involve
themselves in charitable causes!  A less benevolent pair would be
difficult to find!"

Lucille laughed.

"I have to agree!  It is a sad fact that the more macabre aspects of
the Society do attract those people who have a fascination with the
gruesome!"

Fortunately, the lecture that afternoon was on the charitable aspects
of the Society's work, Lucille herself having no interest in its more
grim activities.  A number of projects were explained to the listeners,
many of whom were happy to offer financial support.  After the lecture
there was a sumptuous luncheon at which the guests could mingle and
chat, and meet some of the people helped by the Society's work. Lucille
and Polly soon found themselves effusively greeted by the Dit tons, and
were obliged to stop to exchange pleasantries.

Polly had known Miss Thalia Dit ton and her brother Tristan all her
life.

Unfortunately, familiarity had not bred affection.  She found both the
Dit tons bordering on the vulgar with their preoccupation with rank and
fortune.

Beside Miss Dit ton lounged the young gentleman who had the misfortune
to be her betrothed: Mr Bunion was a gentleman of considerable estate,
even though he had no title, and his blank, good-natured face wore the
perpetually surprised look of one who was not at all certain how he
came to be betrothed to Miss Dit ton in the first place.

After a few moments they managed to excuse themselves and were moving
towards the door when Polly clutched her sister-in-law's arm.

"Lucille!  Look!  It's Henry March night, of all people!  Now whatever
can he be doing here?  I am sure Lord Henry does not trouble himself to
exercise benevolence!"

As soon as the words left Polly's lips she regretted them, for it
occurred to her that Lucille herself might have arranged to meet Lord
Henry there.

A moment later she chided herself for even thinking such a thing.  She
knew that her unhappy feelings for Lord Henry were warping her
judgement and making her prone to jealousy.  It was a new and
uncomfortable experience for her.

Lucille followed Polly's look to see Lord Henry, deep in conversation
with one of the Society's members over by a marble pillar.

"Good gracious, you are right, Polly!"  A frown furrowed her smooth
brow.

"It does seem a little out of character, but I must suppose we do not
know Lord Henry well enough to judge him!"

"Well, let us not distract him from his conversation!"  Polly said
hastily, suddenly anxious not to have to confront Lord Henry after the
debacle of Richmond.  Yesterday she had wanted an explanation; now, to
be allowed to withdraw quietly from his company was the best that she
could hope for.  It was now clear that he did not intend to approach
her and she thought dully that she should perhaps credit him with
proper feeling for sparing her that embarrassment.

Lucille was looking at her quizzically.

"You seem very anxious to avoid him, Polly!  You will have to speak to
him again one day, you know!  Perhaps you might even give him the
chance to explain himself!"

 Polly blushed.

"I am embarrassed by what happened yesterday," she admitted, 'and I
wish to give myself a little time to recover.  You must know that I had
started to cherish some hopes for Lord Henry and myself, but now I see
that I was mistaken.  I was prepared to hear him out, but he has not
given me that opportunity, Lucille!  Clearly it is not important to
him!  Best to let the matter pass, I think!  " Lucille looked as though
she would have liked to have argued, but as the Dit tons were
approaching them again they beat a hasty retreat out into the sunshine
and the matter was dropped.

"I do see that the Society serves a worthy cause," Polly said, in
answer to Lucille's enquiry as to whether she had enjoyed herself at
the lecture, 'but I fear I cannot appreciate its more gruesome aspects.
Oh, I am sure it serves a worthy medical purpose," she added hastily,
'but I do feel it encourages people like Mr Dit ton to gloat over
unpleasantness!  As for the benevolent aspects--do you not feel
uncomfortable about the way some people congratulate themselves on
their generosity?  Why, some of them were positively glowing with
self-worth!  Maybe I am unkind--' She saw Lucille smile and added
defensively, " Well, do you not agree, Lucille?  You are always so
discreet in your charitable activities, and never expect fulsome
thanks!  " Lucille laughed.

"Yes, Polly, I do agree with you, as a matter of fact.  I am not at all
certain that I shall be returning to the Royal Humane Society!  And at
all costs we roust avoid your mama discovering our trip to investigate
the Society's activities!  One mention of resuscitating the dying and
she will very likely have a fit of the va pours!"

he ball at Mrs EUery's that night could hardly have been further
removed from the Royal Humane Society lecture, but a number of the same
fashionable crowd graced the occasion.

It was another hot night, too hot for dancing and humid enough to worry
Mrs EUery that she had not ordered enough champagne to quench the
thirst and would be deemed penny-pinching by the ton.  Polly,
vigourously fanning herself after attempting the boulanger with Simon
Verey, could only be grateful that this was the very last ball of the
Season and they would shortly be leaving Town.

The Dowager Countess was chaperoning her daughter to the ball and was
keeping a closer eye on her than she had done at Lady Phillips's. 
Polly returned punctilliously to her mother's side after each dance, as
anxious as the Dowager to avoid any encounter with Lord Henry March
night.  It was not possible to ignore him completely, for Lord Henry
was escorting his sister to the ball, but it was entirely possible to
avoid any opportunity for direct conversation and Polly was bent on
proving this.  Her heart was sore.  He had only been amusing himself
with her, after all.

At the end of the following set of country dances, Polly found the
Dowager Countess seated next to the fearsome Dowager Duchess of
Broxboume, with the Dit tons and a few others in sycophantic
attendance.  Simon Verey had been dancing with Lady Laura March night
and as Polly rejoined her mother she saw Lord Henry at close quarters
for the first time that night, casually bending over his sister's chair
to exchange a few words.  Polly felt the blood come up into her cheeks
as his grey gaze drifted thoughtfully over her.  She avoided his eye
and turned her shoulder so that he was not in her line of vision.
Disconcertingly, she felt as though he was still watching her and that
his gaze contained amusement.  She hated being so aware of his
presence.

"We were talking of the Chapman case," the Dowager Duchess of Broxboume
said, looking at Lord Henry through her lorgnette and permitting a
faint, wintry smile to touch her thin lips.  He was a reluctant
favourite of hers.

"Mr Dit ton was just saying that the desperado has escaped!"

A soft gasp escaped from the lips of those ladies who found themselves
overset at this piece of news.

"Escaped on the way to the gallows, what!"  Mr Dit- ton confirmed
excitedly.

"A whole gang of the felons set upon the cart and overpowered the
guards!

There was rioting in Skinner Street and St John Street, and Chapman
disappeared into the crowds and was never seen again!  " The Dowager
Duchess's large bulk shuddered.  "None of us are safe in our beds! Why,
the man is a robber and murderer!"

 The group looked around as though expecting Captain Chapman and his
murderous brigands to burst in through the ballroom windows.  And,
indeed, it did seem for a moment that the chandeliers grew dim and a
cold wind blew through the room.

The Chapman case had become something of a cause celebre in recent
weeks, its topicality fanned into flames by the radical press.  Chapman
had been arrested during a theft on a gunsmith's and the claim had been
that he was stealing arms for an insurrection.  Further investigations
into Chapman's activities suggested that he had also been behind a
number of robberies of violence perpetuated on members of the ton,
whilst his actions as a rabble-rouser were well known.  The very name
could send a shiver down the spine.  It was as though he had become a
figurehead for the poor, hungry and oppressed, who threatened the
established order.

"They say," Mr Dit ton put in with the same eager ghoulish ness Polly
had recognised in him earlier in the day, 'that the man has a powerful
protector, a nobleman who is bored with his own easy existence and
seeks excitement.

They say that he has spirited Chapman away!  " A murmur of appalled
protest ran round the group.  "Surely not one of us!"

Miss Dit ton said, looking about to faint dead away.

'/ had not heard that rumour," the Dowager Duchess said, a little
irritably.

"Is it certain?"

Mr Dit ton shrugged elegantly.

"Dear madam, who can say?  But it would give a great deal of help to
Chapman and his cronies to have a wealthy supporter!  And not just
that, but a man who has the entree to ton functions--why, such a
person could advise on the subject for a robbery with violence, he
could--' " You're frightening the ladies, Dit ton," Lord Henry said
gently.

Polly looked at him.  He was wearing the same, languid look of boredom
that was his habitual expression in general company and yet for a
second she could have sworn that there had been keen interest in his
face, as though he were absorbing all that Tristan Dit ton was
saying.

"But are you not concerned, March night?"  the Dowager Duchess
demanded.

"Do you not fear for your life?"

Lord Henry smiled.

"Alas, no, ma'am.  I have no energy to waste worrying about criminals
and agitators.  The set of my coat, the quality of my linen-- those are
the matters that preoccupy me!  Excuse me!"

And he strolled away into the card room.

"Well!"  the Duchess said explosively.

"Was there ever such a man-milliner!

I am thankful we do not have to depend on the likes of Henry March
night to defend us from the common people!  " "Of course," Mr Dit ton
said, a sly look on his equine face, 'it may all be a facade, ma'am!
What if--' he leaned forward avidly '--Lord Henry is our man?

The pose of dandy would be a fine way to dispel suspicion!  " This time
there was a shocked gasp from his audience.  Even the Duchess seemed
uncertain how to react.  Polly stood up.  The candlelight seemed
suddenly to make her head ache and she was aware of a constriction in
her throat.  Everyone seemed to have forgotten the presence of Lady
Laura March night, who was looking so pale she looked in danger of
fainting.

"Perhaps you will be so kind as to accompany me to the refreshment
room.

Lady Laura," Polly said firmly, taking the younger girl's unresisting
arm.

"I feel in need of some lemonade.  No, thank you, Mr Dit ton," she said
sharply, as Tristan Dit ton leaped to his feet, "Lady Laura and I will
do very well on our own!"

"Lord Henry is far too lazy to put himself to the trouble of planning
insurrection!"  the Dowager Duchess said, meaning well, but almost
undoing all of Polly's good work.

Mr Dit ton's eyes gleamed.

"You may be correct, your Grace," he said smoothly, 'but how can we
know?  I tell you, I shall be regarding Henry March- night with the
greatest suspicion from now on!  " Laura gave a faint moan.

"Poppycock, Dit ton!"  the Duchess said, pinning her colours to the
mast.

"You should have more care, slandering a man like that!  Lucky for you
March night's too idle to call you out!"

Polly did not wait for matters to get worse.  She practically dragged
Lady Laura along the edge of the ballroom towards the door.  In the
background the music continued to tinkle and a few couples were
attempting the cotillion in desultory fashion.

Polly found that she was very upset and chided herself for her
foolishness.

She could hardly blame others for dismissing Henry March night as
lightweight when he himself encouraged precisely that impression.  It
puzzled her, for the man she knew was in no way superficial, and yet in
general company he appeared to change character and become as shallow
as any other pleasure-seeker in the ton.  For a moment she remembered
that lightning change in Henry's expression from acute intelligence to
amiable blandness, then a stifled sob from Lady Laura recalled her to
the person who had been most injured by Mr Dit ton's malicious remarks
and the Duchess's clumsy attempts to smooth matters over.

"It isn't fair," Lady Laura said passionately, biting her lip to stop
herself from crying.

"Everyone is so unkind about Henry when he is the sweetest person
imaginable!

Oh, I could hardly bear to hear them!  I nearly said something I
regretted.

Duchess or no!"

She looked at Polly, half-mutinous and half- ashamed.  Polly smiled at
her encouragingly.

"Mr Dit ton is unpardonable," she said quietly, 'and her Grace of
Broxboume scarcely less so!  " She put out a hand on the other girl's
arm.

"Please do not regard it.  Lady Laura!  I am sure you are right--you
must know your brother better than any of us!"

"He is not at all as everyone imagines," Lady Laura said earnestly,
gratefully taking the glass of lemonade that Polly passed her.

"People think him stupid, or frivolous, but they do not at all
appreciate his qualities!  Why, I know that he is currently involved in
work which--' " Laura?  " It was difficult to tell whether it was Polly
or Laura who jumped more.

Laura had been engrossed in her attempts to exonerate her brother and
Polly was fascinated by whatever it was she had been about to reveal.
When Lord Henry himself paused beside them they both looked up, flushed
and disconcerted.  He raised an eyebrow.

 "Whatever can the two of you be plotting?  Why, you look the picture
of guilt!"

It was too much for Laura.  Her eyes filled with tears again and with a
murmured word of apology to Polly, she positively ran out of the
refreshment room.

Henry watched her go with a heavy frown on his brow.  He touched
Polly's hand briefly.

"I had no idea that Laura was so upset.  Lady Polly.  I apologise for
interrupting your conversation when she evidently wished to confide in
you."

His searching gaze rested on Polly's face for a moment.

"I had better make sure that she is all right.  Our mother has not
accompanied Laura tonight and I promised to keep an eye on her.  Excuse
me..."

Polly had no inclination to return to the ballroom.  She watched Lord
Henry's tall figure skirt the floor and cross urgently to Lady Laura's
chaperon, saw the lady point and Lord Henry set off in that
direction.

Polly sighed.  It was unforgivable of Mr Dit ton to make such ill-bred
remarks about Lord Henry March- night in front of his sister and hardly
surprising that Laura had been deeply distressed.  Nor did she doubt
Laura's whole-hearted defence of her brother.  For a moment Polly
wondered what Laura had been about to say to her, and she remembered
the incisive look in Lord Henry's eyes as he had listened to Mr Dit
ton.  There was no doubt that Lord Henry was an enigma, assuming a
superficial and indolent air when he chose, but using it to disguise
something deeper.  Surely she could not be the only one to have
noticed?  And yet, it seemed she was.

Mr Dit ton, his sister and Mr Bunion came into the refreshment room,
laughing and chatting, and Polly went out into the ballroom to avoid
them.

It was al most the last dance of the evening; the orchestra was tuning
up again and Polly felt oddly flat.  The Season was trailing away in
rather insipid fashion now that the excitement of her false flirtation
with Lord Henry had ended.  She wished.  "Lady Polly, may I speak with
you?"

She had not seen Lord Henry approaching her, for he had come along the
edge of the dancing floor, where a line of pillars cast a dark
shadow.

What Polly could see, however, was Lady Sea grave advancing
purposefully once more from the other side of the room.  Lord Henry saw
it too and his lips tightened.

"Come and dance with me," he said a little abruptly.  "Your mother will
scarcely pursue us on to the floor!"

It was the waltz which was playing, all too reminiscent of their
previous encounter at Lady Phillips's rout.  Now, however, there was a
definite constraint between them.  There was a heavy frown on Lord
Henry's brow and for a moment Polly wondered whether he was going to
broach the subject of the scene at Richmond.  Her heart beat a little
faster.

"I must thank you.  Lady Polly, for your kindness to my sister just
now.

Clearly you removed her from a distressing situation before matters
could get worse.  I am most grateful.  " Polly felt obscurely
disappointed.  So they were to continue as though nothing had happened,
and yet the barriers between them were now reinforced.

She had little choice but to follow his lead.  Normally so open and
amiable, his expression now was preoccupied and almost severe.  There
was still a frown between those dark brows and an angry set to Lord
Henry's mouth.

"Lady Laura told you what was said, then."  Polly spoke a little
hesitantly.

"I am sorry that she should have been so distressed.  Even if Mr Dit
ton spoke in jest it was in bad taste and ill conceived--' " Would that
I could call him to account for it," Lord Henry said furiously, 'but
just at the moment I can ill afford--' He broke off suddenly,
refocusing on Polly, and some of the latent anger went out of him.

"Oh, well," the nonchalance had eased back into his voice and was
well-feigned, almost convincing '--Dit ton is an unpleasant fellow,
when all is said and done, but not worth disturbing oneself over.  Such
matters never are worth the trouble.  " Had Polly not been so aware of
Lord Henry she might well have been taken in by his assumption of good
humour, but with her own feelings in turmoil she found she could
contain herself no longer.  The words popped out of her mouth before
she even had time to consider them.

"Why do you pretend to be of no account, interested in nothing but
foolish, frippery things, my lord?  I am not taken in by your pretence
that you do not care about Dit ton's words!  It does not cozen me,
though I confess I find other aspects of your behaviour rather more
puzzling!"

For a moment, she saw the surprised speculation in Lord Henry's eyes,
before the bland amiability that so frustrated her returned.

"I collect that you refer to my other exploits.  Lady Polly?  You do
not consider high play and the pursuit of the fair sex to be serious
occupations for a gentleman, ma'am?"

Polly almost stamped her foot.

"I am well aware that you might find them so!  But I know you are
seeking to distract me, my lord, running me about something when I
know you consider it a serious matter... I saw you when Mr Dit ton made
his remarks about Chapman's protector--' She broke off as his hand
tightened warningly on hers.

Her voice had risen as her feelings spilled over, and other couples had
turned curiously to see what was going on.  Lord Henry bent close to
her ear.

"Yes, you can read me better than most, Lady Polly, because I have
chosen to show my true self to you.  And it is also true that I do not
choose to behave in company as I do with my closest friends.  But just
for now, I must beg you to forget what you know of me and accept that I
am nothing more than a foolish, frippery fellow who cares only for the
set of his neck- cloth..."

His mouth twisted into a smile at her look of amazement.

They were very close.  This time there was no attempt to distract her
from the topic.  There was a compelling force in his eyes that silenced
her, demanded her compliance.

Polly's thoughts tumbled over themselves.  Why the pretence at boredom
and dandyism?  What was he hiding?  Perhaps Tristan Dit ton had been
right: a man playing a part; a nobleman, bored with his easy lifestyle,
craving excitement.  But it was not possible!  Lord Henry had
integrity, honour.

Surely, he would never become embroiled in criminal activities simply
to amuse himself.  Polly's troubled gaze searched Lord Henry's face.
"But why are you playing a part?  What--' " Forgive me.  " Lord Henry's
tone had softened as he saw her look.

"I cannot tell you that now.  And forgive my abruptness.  I should not
have spoken so, but it is of the greatest importance that you should
keep your suspicions to yourself.  Lady Polly.  One day I will tell you
why..."

 Polly shook her head slightly, retreating into pride.  "It is of no
consequence if you do not wish to explain yourself--' " Yes, it is of
consequence!  I do not give a rush for what others think of me, but I
do care for your good opinion.  " He was still frowning.

"When I can, I shall explain all to you, including those aspects of my
behaviour which have appeared most questionable!"  A smile lit his eyes
briefly.

"For now, I can only ask you to trust me..."

The music finished with a final flourish but Polly scarcely noticed as
Henry led her back to the Dowager Countess, who had returned to gossip
with the Duchess of Broxboume.  He excused himself immediately.

"My sister and her chaperon have already left and I must make haste to
my next engagement.  Good evening, Lady Polly."  He bowed to the
Dowager Countess, "Good evening, ma'am..."

Polly watched him go.  She was even more confused than she had been
before she challenged him over his odd behaviour.  It seemed that there
were more mysteries to Henry March night than met the eye, and none
would be explained to her in the near future.

Polly's mouth drooped.  She felt tired and bad- tempered with the onset
of a headache.  Nor did the Dowager Countess seem much inclined to
linger.  She was suffering from an unusual reticence resulting from her
part in the unfortunate scene with Lady Laura.

"For it was very bad ton of Tristan Dit ton to speak as he did," she
commented, once she and Polly were in the seclusion of their carriage,
'and though Lady Laura is a little mouse and I had quite forgotten her
presence, I feel badly that I did not give him the set- down he
deserved.  " Polly murmured something in agreement, leaning her head
against the seat and closing her eyes.  Although the day had been
fresh, the wind had now died and the night was almost unbearably humid.
Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance and Polly could see the nicker
of lightning away across the river.

She shivered within her cloak, wishing they were already home.

There seemed to be something malevolent in the air.

They had gone perhaps two-thirds of the way back to Brook Street when
there were sudden violent shouts outside the carriage, making Polly
open her eyes and the Dowager Countess, who had been lulled into a doze
by the rumble of the wheels, jump out of her skin.

Torches flared outside the window, and by their flickering light, Polly
could see a huge mass of figures, jostling and shouting, their faces
twisted and malignant.  There was a sound of breaking glass and the
snap of firecrackers, sudden and shocking, and a growl of excitement
rose from the crowd.  The carriage lurched, slowing to a crawl.

"What on earth--' the Dowager began, leaning forward to peer out of the
window, and then the carriage door was flung open without warning and
the nightmare came in.

Filthy hands caught Polly and the Dowager Countess, and dragged them
forcibly into the street.  The smell of unwashed bodies and the sweet
stench of spirits was in Polly's nostrils.  The howl of the mob was all
around them.

Hands plucked at their clothes, ripping them, and snatching at their
jewellery.  Lady Sea grave was screaming; Polly felt a sharp pain as
her pearl necklace was wrenched from about her throat.  She was blinded
by the glare of the torches and by the tangle of her hair as her
jewelled headband was pulled off.  All about her was the swell of
menacing power as the mob tested its strength--Polly could feel it and
it terrified her.

The coachman was shouting and swearing horribly, his arm raised to
defend himself against the blows raining down.  In all the noise and
confusion, he had not even noticed that Polly and the Dowager Countess
needed his aid, and he would have been unable to defend them anyway.
The footman had been pulled from the box and was hanging on to the door
of the carriage for dear life as the rabble tried to drag him into the
gutter.  And then, for a moment, the crowd thinned and the coachman,
seizing his chance, whipped the horses into a gallop.  The carriage
lumbered off down the street with the mob jeering and stoning it.

"All alone, now," a voice breathed in Polly's ear, but she scarcely
noticed, for before her was a scene from hell that was beyond her worst
fantasy.

There had been another carriage behind theirs in the road, and this one
had been set on fire.  Flames roared from the roof and the open door. A
man was kneeling in the gutter, his evening dress smouldering, his
hands horribly burned and disfigured.  Beside him, a woman was
scrabbling about amongst the cobbles, sobbing hysterically.  Polly
caught her breath as the firelight caught the glitter of something
amongst the cobblestones.  The woman leant forward, but a hundred
hands were quicker than hers, snatching up the coins and precious
stones and laughing in scorn.  The woman sobbed all the louder.

"She's crying for her money," Polly whispered, horrified.

The Dowager Countess screamed again, pummelled and jostled by the mob.
A ragged cheer went up from the crowd as the fire spurted upwards.
Polly shrank back, trying to evade the grasping hands, but there was
nowhere to run.

"And now, my little dove..."  the leary, whisky- sodden voice murmured
again.

"My, you're a pretty one, ain't ye?"

The frenzied scene began to fade as Polly felt herself slipping into a
faint.

Her mother was crying and sobbing, but Polly found she could not cry.
Nor could she fight this inexorable tide that had swept them up and
carried them on a wave of exultant power.  The noise was terrifying and
the darkness, with the flames illuminating those freakish, evil faces,
only added to her fear.

She hardly noticed when a change came over the crowd, so far was she
gone in terror and revulsion.  There was a whisper running through the
mob like wind through corn, and the edges of the crowd began to fray
and break away.

"Don't try... Not worth it... He has a pistol... Two pistols... Let's
go..."

An arm slid about Polly's waist, hard and strong, and she was too tired
to fight.  Let them carry me off and do what they must, she thought
tiredly.  I cannot do any more.  "This is no time for swooning, Lady
Polly," Lord Henry March night's voice said, very calm and very
resolute.

"I must ask you to show some mettle."

 Polly opened her eyes to find that he was real and holding her very
close.

Those brilliant grey eyes were blazing into hers.  The nausea receded a
little.  He gave her a slight shake.

"I need you to be strong now, Polly.  Don't disappoint me."

Polly's chin came up.  Though utterly unprepared for the horrors that
had happened to her, she responded instinctively to the authority in
his tone.

Besides, there was her mother to consider.  The Dowager Countess was
stumbling to her feet, her clothes in tatters, filthy and stained.  The
mob was falling back, hesitant and sullen, slipping away in ones and
twos down the dark alleys and lanes, melting into the darkness as they
had come.

Lord Henry was bending to help the Dowager Countess to her feet and as
he did so, his black cloak swung back and Polly saw the pistols at his
belt.

"The militia are coming..."  The whisper caught and ran round the
remains of the rabble.  The madness was dying.

"Let's go..."

"Can you walk, ma'am?"  Lord Henry was solicitous, his voice betraying
neither fear nor panic.

"If not, I will carry you home.  It is not far, but I think we should
be moving."

The Dowager, like her daughter, had a strong streak of courage in her.
She straightened up and pushed her tumbled hair away from her face.

"I can walk, sir, if you give me your arm.  But the other lady and
gentleman...?  I thought, I was sure... Lord and Lady Ballantyne?"

"They have gone," Lord Henry was saying, already shepherding them away
from the smouldering hulk of the carriage, 'and we can only hope that
they man aged to escape the mob.  We must concentrate on getting you
home safely, ma'am.  " The dark streets were empty, littered with
broken glass and smouldering wreckage.  It seemed to Polly, summoning
the last of her strength to get herself safely back to Brook Street,
that the journey could have taken two minutes or two hours.  The
Dowager Countess limped along, huddled within the tattered remains of
her cloak, leaning heavily on Lord Henry's arm.  His other arm
remained, most improperly, about Polly's waist.  But she did not care
for propriety or convention.  Polly needed the reassurance and strength
Lord Henry's presence conveyed, and would have clung to him if all the
mobs from hell had erupted about them.

Lights flared from the house in Brook Street and the front door stood
open.

Lord Henry helped the Dowager Countess up the steps and into the hall.
The whole place was in uproar.  Nicholas Sea grave, his face tense and
white, was supporting a man Polly recognised with relief as John, the
coachman.  There was a huge, livid bruise on his temple and dried blood
caked to his face.

His eyes were wild as he clutched at the Earl's arm.

The butler, looking almost as shaken as Sea grave himself, was firing
orders at a host of servants who appeared to be running aimlessly in
all directions.

As they came in at the door, there was a moment of complete silence.
Then the Dowager tottered over to the staircase, clutched at the
bannisters and sat down rather heavily on the bottom step.  And Lord
Henry March night, with the casual aplomb that would not have been out
of place at the most exclusive of social gatherings, said, "Your
servant, Sea grave.  I am happy to be able to restore the Dowager
Countess and Lady Polly to you."

Much later, the Dowager Countess had been cosseted and exhorted into
bed by her daughter-in-law, and Polly was propped up against her
pillows, sipping a cup of hot, sweet tea.  She felt light-headed with
exhaustion, but the shock had prevented her from sleeping.  Nicholas
and Lucille, horrified and distressed, had heard the whole story, and
were now sitting at the end of the bed.

Lord Henry March night had slipped away before anyone had had the
chance to thank him properly.

'and the strangest thing," Polly was saying, stifling a yawn, 'was that
Lord Henry appeared to come from nowhere.  And when he did, the rabble
turned tail and fled.  It was most extraordinary.  He is a most
mysterious man..."

Her eyelids were closing.  Lucille gently took the cup from her grasp
and set it down on the washstand.  She tucked up Polly's covers.

Polly could feel herself slipping into sleep at last.  She tried to
rouse herself.

"Lady Laura March night told me that Henry was not as everyone
imagined..."

she said drowsily.

"And now I see it is true.  A man who takes a brace of pistols to a
ball is quite unusual..."

Lucille's eyes met those of her husband.  Nick raised an eyebrow but
did not speak.  Polly slid further down into the bed.  It was warm and
safe, and suddenly she was not afraid any more.  But there was
something else she had to tell them.  It was worrying at the edges of
her mind and would not let her rest.

 With an enormous effort, she managed to get the words out.

"I love him so much, you see," Polly said, quite as though it explained
everything.

"I always have."  And then she slept.

It was early the following morning that Nick Sea- grave called in at St
James's.  The discreet and deferential manservant who answered the door
could not confirm that Lord Henry March night was yet out of bed, a
statement which elicited a look of amused disbelief from Sea grave, if
nothing more.  He was not surprised when Lord Henry joined him within
five minutes, fully dressed and showing no signs that he had recently
arisen.

"I am here to offer my thanks on behalf of all of us for your timely
actions last night, March night," Sea grave said, accepting a chair and
the offer of a cup of coffee.

"My mother could barely be restrained from coming around here to thank
you herself!  Indeed, she will be singing your praises to all and
sundry from now on!"

A smile twitched Lord Henry's lips.

"How very uncomfortable!  I will have to think of a way of dissuading
her!"

"No doubt you'll come up with something," Sea- grave said, also
smiling.  He allowed his gaze to travel around the room, appreciating
its elegant style and tasteful furnishing.  There were a number of
books on the shelves which he recognised but had not touched for years
and some very fine pictures.  Sea grave was not surprised.

"How fortunate for my mother and Polly that you happened to be passing
at the moment the mob turned on them," Sea grave continued blandly.

"Much in the same way that you were passing on Hamp stead Heath the
other night!"

Lord Henry picked up the coffee pot, avoiding his guest's penetrating
gaze.

"It was fortunate, indeed."

"No doubt," Sea grave pursued, 'you had taken a pair of pistols to Mrs
Ellery's ball just to be prepared.  One cannot be too careful these
days!  " Lord Henry, pouring the coffee into large china cups, checked
slightly.

His grey eyes met Sea grave's inscrutable dark ones.

"Ah, the pistols.  I assume... Lady Polly?"

"She's an observant girl," Sea grave agreed, 'but I expect you have
already realised that.  " "Your sister sees a little too much," Lord
Henry agreed, with grim feeling.

He passed the cup across and Sea grave sat back in the chair, savouring
the strong aroma of the coffee.

"I hope," Lord Henry said, 'that neither the Dowager Countess nor Lady
Polly will have taken any lasting hurt.  That was a hellish scene last
night.  Sea grave.  They were both unconscionably brave.  " Sea grave's
mouth tightened into uncompromising lines.

"Chapman, was it?"

he said grimly.

"It was a bad day when he escaped.  How close are you to retaking
him?"

Lord Henry was looking just as implacable.

"Close enough," he said.

"Maybe it would have been last night if I hadn't been diverted on to
other matters!"

"And at Hamp stead?"

Henry shrugged.

"A rumour... a suggestion that he had been seen.  You know how it is,
Sea grave--the rum ours have him everywhere from Clerkenwell to
Chelsea!  But yesterday I was closing in.  I had found out where he had
been hiding."

"At the Royal Humane Society?"  Sea grave asked, with a smile.

"Polly mentioned that she and Lucille had seen you there!  They were
most impressed by your interest in charitable work, old chap!"

Lord Henry laughed reluctantly.

"The only act of benevolence I would like to commit at present is
ridding the earth of scum like Chapman!  It was a masterstroke on his
part to use the Society as cover.  They are so tied up with their own
generosity that they do not even press a fellow for his name.  And what
is one unkempt and ragged fugitive amongst so many dispossessed,
looking for a few nights' shelter?"

"And the tale of a rich protector?"  Sea graves asked, putting down his
empty coffee cup.

Lord Henry hesitated.

"I have my suspicions..."

Sea grave nodded.

"Well, I had better be going.  But I do thank you.  Harry.

If you had not intervened.  I hope it has not damaged your chances of
taking your man.  " Lord Henry gave him a rueful smile and shook Sea-
grave's proffered hand.

At the door the Earl paused.

"If you ever need any help, just let me know.  Oh, and Harry--' The
younger man looked at him enquiringly, "Be careful," Sea grave said.

"I realise why you intervened last night and I would not wish anything
to prevent you from eventually making your declaration!"

And he raised his cane in mocking salute and left a startled Lord Henry
staring at the door.

Chapter Seven Q<$zs$> ) London wilted in the heat of a blazing July.

Polly, made lethargic with the combination of heat and the shock of the
riot, kept largely to her room, whiling the time away reading or
playing patience until Jessie told her sharply that she was turning
into a recluse.  She hardly cared.  Each night her sleep was broken by
snatches of nightmare in which grasping hands captured her and dragged
her away to unspeakable places.

She would wake in tears, gasping for breath, comforted only when she
realised that she was safe in her bed.  During the day she had no
energy or inclination to go out and gradually the invitations
decreased, although plenty of callers still came to see the Dowager
Countess and sympathise with her over her ordeal.  Polly had not seen
Lord Henry since the night that he had rescued them and rumour had it
that he had left London on some of the mysterious, unspecified business
that seemed to take him away sometimes.

Polly's heart ached.  She had needed to see Henry again, wanted to
thank him, and now she felt dissatisfied that matters had somehow ended
in an unsatisfactory way.

 Whilst Polly played patience and the Dowager Countess languished
artistically, Lucille had persuaded Nicholas to make good his promise
of a belated wedding trip to Scotland and the Lake District. Meanwhile,
Peter Sea grave announced with bravado that he would be spending the
summer at a very racy houseparty in Buckingham shire at the seat of
Lord Weller den.

The Weller den carousals were almost legendary for their deep play and
libidinous entertainments The Dowager Countess's mouth turned down in a
line of decided disapproval when she heard his plans, but she said
nothing and Nicholas just commented that since Peter had evidently
chosen to go to hell, he might as well do it in fine style. Remembering
Nicholas's own hell raising some years before his marriage, Polly
thought that he had probably been wise in leaving Peter to follow his
own course.

The Dowager Countess's intention to spend the summer in Bright on had
been quite overset by the shock of being caught up in the riot and she
had decided to go instead to the Sea grave estates in Suffolk, where
the country peace might help calm her shattered nerves.

"Are you sure that you wish to accompany me to Dilling ham, Polly?"
Lady Sea grave asked, a little dubiously, when Polly had said that she
preferred to visit Suffolk rather than go to the south coast.

"The country is very slow and we could easily arrange for you to go to
Bright on.  The Bells are taking a house on the Steyne and I am sure
they would be pleased to have your company, or perhaps the Da cres, but
it must be your choice..."

She looked at her daughter with concern.  Polly had been pale and
listless since that horrible night, and her unwillingness to go out
and shyness in company worried her mother.

Surely the girl needed entertainment and companionship rather than to
hide herself away?  She would never get over her experiences if she
became a hermit!

Polly looked out at the dusty street and thought of the jostling,
raffish Bright on crowds.  The world and his wife would be at the
seaside and there would be company and balls and soirees.  And at
Dilling ham there would be the sun on the corn fields and the river
tumbling to the cold sea and the call of the plovers.  And, of course,
there was the chance that Lord Henry March night might be in Wood
bridge if his plans had not changed since that momentous day at
Richmond.

"Most singular," Sir Godfrey Or bison observed with disapproval, when
acquainted with the Dowager Countess's plan and the fact that his
goddaughter proposed to immure herself in the middle of nowhere for the
summer.

"Tell you what, Cecil ia, you'll never get that girl married off if she
persists in this eccentric behaviour!  Why, I wash my hands of her!

She'll die an old maid!  " He warmed to his theme, sticking out his
ample stomach in its embroidered waistcoat.

"And as for that foolish young puppy, Peter, I've heard he's going to
Weller den's place at Wy combe," he growled.

"Damned fool of a boy, wasting his substance on women and gambling.
Don't know what this family is coming to, Cecil ia!  Dashed bad
form!"

In the event, Suffolk proved nowhere near as dull as Sir Godfrey might
have imagined.  The arrival of the Sea graves and the Dit tons from
London amplified the existing gentry families such as the Fan-ants and
Fitzgeralds, and there were plenty of parties, outings and
entertainments.

Indeed, it sometimes seemed that the whole of the Town had made its way
to Suffolk that summer, and four weeks later, when Nicholas and Lucille
returned early from their wedding trip, Dilling ham Court really came
to life.

"Lucille is in a Delicate Condition," the Dowager Countess said coyly
to Polly, the evening after her son and daughter-in-law had arrived
back.

"She needs to rest, and what better place than here in the good country
air?

And though I am desolated to be so soon a grandmother, I am delighted
that she is enceinte.  It is wonderful news!"

Polly had been visiting the Fitzgeralds when Lord and Lady Sea grave
had returned and so was not able to see her sister-in-law until the
next morning.

Lucille did indeed look a wan sight, propped up on her lacy pillows,
her face a creamish white and her huge blue eyes shadowed with
purple.

"I feel wretched," Lucille admitted in response to Polly's anxious
enquiry.

"We were having such a nice time as well--the scenery was so
beautiful--then suddenly I began to feel hideously unwell and could
hardly bear to be cooped up in the carriage all those hours!"  She
shrugged.

"Well, if this is marriage, I shall go and live alone in a cottage with
a cat and my books!"

Polly laughed.

"I am so sorry you feel so miserable, Lucille!  But think how many
people you have made happy!  Why, Mama is in seventh heaven, despite
what she says about the ageing effect of being a grandmother, and as
for Nicholas, he looks like the cat that got the cream!"

"Well, it's all right for him!"  the Earl's ungrateful wife said
crossly.

"He just had the enjoyable part to play!  But I shall have my revenge
by being a very difficult patient!"

"Have you had any breakfast?"  Polly asked practically, looking round
the bedroom and espying a plate of toast on the table.

Lucille shuddered.

"Your mama sent me some plain toast and dry biscuits--she said it was
the best thing for the sickness, but the sight of it made me feel even
worse!

Monstrous!  And yesterday all I wanted was a pickled egg!"

Polly giggled.

"You will feel better soon, Lucille.  Mama said so and you know how she
is always right!  Now, can I bring you anything before I go out?  We
are visiting the Dit tons this morning, so you may count that as my
punishment and not think yourself the only one suffering!"

Lucille managed a pallid smile.

"Perhaps there are some benefits to being confined to bed, after all!
Come in and talk to me when you get back.  In the meantime, I am
determined to have Nicholas at my beck and call!"

Lucille's interesting condition was the main topic of conversation
amongst the ladies visiting the Dit- tons, but when the gentlemen came
in from the stables, the gossip turned to news of the Dowager Duchess
of Broxboume, who had had all her jewellery stolen in an audacious
midnight raid on her London home the very night before the Dit tons
left London.

"The Dowager Duchess slept through it all apparently," Mr Dit ton
reported, with an excited laugh, 'but now her Grace is refusing to
leave London at all, for fear her entire house will be ransacked!  The
on-dit is that she sits up all night with the butler beside her armed
with a blunderbuss!  " Lady Sea grave shuddered.

"What in the world are things coming to when one is not safe in one's
own home?  Why, I for one shall be staying here in the country until
that felon Chapman is captured!  At least I may take the air in Wood
bridge without being set upon by a gang of ruffians!"

Mr Dit ton leant forward, almost impaling himself on his ridiculously
high shirt points.

"Can you be sure that the country is so safe, ma'am?  They do say that
there is a gang of smugglers who still work the coast near here, so
take care if you choose to step out at dark of the moon!"

"Enough, Tristan," Mrs Dit ton said, quite sharply for her.  She had
seen the Dowager Countess shudder and cast her son a look of profound
dislike, and Mrs Dit ton had no intention of finding her invitations to
Dilling ham Court rescinded.  She cast about swiftly for a new piece of
gossip to distract attention.

"I have heard a far more riveting piece of news," she said, brown eyes
sparkling and her turban a- twitch.

"Mrs Cozens told Maria Wilcox, who told me that the March nights are
coming to Wood bridge!"

There was a sudden silence, but for the muted clink of china.  All
conversations seemed to have been suspended as everyone turned to Mrs
Dit ton for further information.

Lady Sea grave raised her brows.

"How extraordinary!  Are you sure, Eustacia?"

"Well..."  Mrs Dit ton had the grace to retract a little 'it is only
the Duchess and Lady Laura.  I understand that they have been in Bath
these four weeks past.  " again her brown eyes twinkled with gleeful
malice 'but Laura is being pursued by a most unsuitable young man and
the Duchess is at pains to remove her from his company!"

There was a gasp of speculative interest from the assembled ladies.
Lady Laura; only eighteen and the sweetest of debutantes, was the
perfect target for scandal.

"How delicious," Miss Dit ton breathed in excitement.

"Lord Blakeney was paying her particular attention in Town--I wonder if
he followed her to Bath--' '/ had heard," Lady Sea grave said a little
tartly, 'that Lady Laura is delicate and that Sarah March- night was
thinking of a sea break even before they left Town, for the good of
Laura's health.  But why they have chosen Wood bridge.  " and she
frowned at the thought of her hegemony of Suffolk society being under
threat.

"But the most piquant part," Mrs Dit ton finished triumphantly, 'is
that they are to be escorted here by Lord Henry.  Lord Henry March
night is coming to Wood bridge!  " This time the gasp contained a fris
son of excitement as well as interest.

Almost every one of the ladies present had a deep interest in
discussing and deploring the activities of so notorious a rake.  That
he might be about to create a stir in their little backwater was almost
too stimulating to consider.  Lord Henry might be condemned as being
quite beyond the social pale, but he remained one of the most eligible
and unobtainable prizes on the marriage mart.

 Polly, despite having had foreknowledge of Mrs Dit ton's words,
jumped and spilt a little tea on her lilac silk dress.  Miss Dit ton's
sharp brown eyes, so like her mother's, noted Polly's pallor.

"Lud, Lady Polly, the news has quite overset you!"  she said, with
spurious sympathy.

"I do so sympathise.  How can you face the strong rescuer who saved you
from the mob?  How can you look him in the eye after what you have been
through?

I know I should be quite overcome!"

7 shall face him with gratitude," Lady Sea grave said trenchantly,
wading in before her daughter could even speak.

"Regardless of my previous opinion of Lord Henry, I cannot but be
profoundly grateful that he was passing that night.  Such good fortune!
And he was truly courageous in facing down that mob and risking his
life to help us!  I shall not hear another word against him!"

Polly raised her eyebrows at such a staunch defence of a man her mother
had previously dismissed as a dissolute wastrel.

"I vow," Miss Dit ton said archly, "Lord Henry has achieved a champion
in you, has he not, ma'am!  But I would wager all my pin money that it
will not be long before he does something truly dreadful," her eyes
sparkled at the thought of it '--and we are all deploring him for a
villain!  " She cast a spiteful sideways look at Polly.

"After all, remember the incident at Richmond!  I am sure that Lady
Polly will never forget it!"

Someone tittered behind their hand.  Polly felt the familiar fury
rising at this denouncement of Lord Henry, mixed with the pain that the
memory of that day could still occasion her.

 "Lord Henry would no doubt be flattered to think that his activities
could command such interest, Thalia," she said coolly.

Miss Dit ton, reddening, sought to sharpen her claws.

"It must be very pleasant to have your brother and sister-in-law back
at Dilling ham," she said, smiling at Polly.

"And I hear that your brother Peter has been intent on getting to know
Lady Bolt much better!  Such interesting family connections the Sea
graves have!"

Polly knew better than to rise to that.  Miss Dit ton derived all her
pleasure from the little pin-pricks and sharp words that could
discommode her listeners.  She yawned, as though somewhat bored with
the topic of conversation.

"Oh, as to that, Peter has always been a most sociable creature!  I am
blessed with two very amiable brothers.  Miss Dit ton.  No doubt I am
the envy of all about me!"  Polly's gaze lingered just long enough on
Tristan Dit ton to make her point.  In no way could Mr Dit ton be
coveted as a brother.

A tiny frown of annoyance marred Miss Dit ton's narrow forehead and
Polly was grateful when Mrs Fitzgerald came across to join them and
dilute the conversation.  She was afraid that she was about to be very
rude to Miss Dit ton.

The Dowager Countess and her daughter left soon after, with the Dit
tons coming out on to the front steps to wave them off in state.

"Do give dearest Lucille our best wishes and tell her that we shall be
over to Dilling ham soon to see how she goes on!"  Mrs Dit ton
gushed.

 The Countess and Polly exchanged a look, in total accord.

"Poor Lucille," the Countess murmured sotto voce.

"Just when she was beginning to feel a little better as well!"

The unrelenting summer heat continued.  The Dowager Countess had taken
to dozing the afternoon hours away, and with Lucille also confined to
bed and Nicholas out about estate business, Polly would wander in the
shade of the gardens or curl up with a book in the pergola beside the
lake.  It was too hot for riding.  Her mind was preoccupied with
thoughts of Lord Henry March night.  Part of her longed to see him when
he came to Wood bridge, but her practical side told her that this was
unlikely.  Whilst Lord Henry might well escort his mother and sister on
the journey, he would hardly stay long in a provincial backwater which
could hold no interest for one used to far more sophisticated
pleasures.  It seemed even less likely that Henry would choose to seek
her out.  Since he had not called in London after the ordeal, he would
be unlikely to do so now.

Polly frowned, putting her book down on the painted seat of the pagoda
and looking out across the dazzling water of the lake.  There was no
doubt that Lord Henry March night was an enigma.  She had guessed he
was not the foolish dandy he pretended to be, though his reputation as
a rake was perhaps another matter.  But there was something suspicious
in his behaviour.  Mr Dit ton's words at the ball, half- forgotten,
came back to give her a slight shock.  A gentleman who was bored with
his aristocratic lifestyle might well become involved in criminal
activities for excitement.  He might well be lurking during a
riot--could even be an instigator of the discontent that had led the
mob to turn on them.

Polly shivered.  Surely she was being foolish, particularly when she
cared for him as she did.  She could not equate her feelings for him
with such doubts about his integrity.  Yet something did not quite fit.
She got up, intending to walk off her fit of the dismals.  She took the
path which skirted the lake, enjoying the play of light on its surface
and considering whether it would make a suitable subject for her
painting.

Polly had not picked up her paintbrush since returning to Suffolk, but
it was an activity which she thoroughly enjoyed and she had some skill.
It was a beautiful day to be outside, although a little too hot for
comfort, but Polly's parasol kept the direct sunlight off her face.

The Dilling ham lake drained, by way of a small stream and a sluice
gate, into the River De ben, and Polly slipped through the little gate
and took the riverside path.  Strictly speaking, this was not Sea grave
land and belonged to Charles Far rant, but Polly knew he would not mind
her trespassing.  The Fan-ants and the Sea graves had grown up
together.

There was a small fishing-house a little way further down the bank.
With a smile, Polly remembered that this had been the scene of various
childhood expeditions in the hot summers of years that had gone by;
they had sat on the balcony of the fishing-house, dangling their lines
in the river and losing patience before they had caught anything.  The
boys had been allowed to swim, but her governess had scolded Polly for
asking to join in too, and had only reluctantly allowed her to dangle
her bare feet in the water of the pool inside the fishing-house. Polly
smiled at the memory.  The pool, lined with coloured tiles and marble
imported specially by Charles Far rant's father, had always fascinated
her.  The water had been so clear and deep, shadowed and secret.  She
was minded to peek inside just to see if the reality was anything like
her childhood memories.

Polly pushed open the fishing-house door and, in the split second that
followed, her startled gaze took in everything before her.  The
interior was smaller than she remembered, but the tiles of a swirling
green and blue were just the same.  Light filtered down from the
balcony above, dappling the water and illuminating the statues of
mermaids and merman, which, in varying states of tasteful undress,
lined the walls.

Polly certainly did not remember them.  Her gaze lingered,
half-shocked, half-intrigued at the sensuous display.  Then she looked
again at the pool and experienced a sensuous shock of an entirely more
physical nature.

The pool was occupied.  Polly, her hand still on the latch, took a
hasty step backwards.  And at that moment Lord Henry March night, his
wet, fair hair as sleek as an otter's pelt, hauled himself out of the
pool, the water running down his bronzed torso, shimmering droplets
glistening on his naked body.

Polly gave a strangled squeak.  She clapped her hand over her mouth,
then wondered foolishly if it would be better to shield her eyes, since
she seemed incapable of tearing her gaze away from Lord Henry's body.

His nakedness was a shocking echo of the classical poses of the
statues.

But they were inanimate, whilst he was all too vividly alive.  The
strong, graceful lines of his body were utterly compelling.  Somehow,
Polly managed to raise her gaze to Lord Henry's bare, broad chest,
where it appeared to become fixed once again.  He had an excellent
physique, she thought dazedly, without an ounce of fat, the powerful
shoulders and chest tapering to the narrow waist and down to strong
thighs, all too clearly displayed to her view.

Lord Henry turned aside in leisurely fashion to reach for the towel
which lay across a wicker chair and Polly's fascinated gaze followed.
Then, as he finally draped the towel about his waist, she was released
from the spell and met his eyes, full of speculative amusement.

"Have you seen enough.  Lady Polly?"  Lord Henry asked, scrupulously
polite, his hand hovering suggestively over the knot at his waist.

Polly could not answer.  A huge wave of heat washed over her,
compounded of sheer sensual awareness and burning embarrassment.  Even
as her mortification struggled for mastery, she was aware of other,
more demanding and disturbing feelings, feelings she could not control
or understand.  She turned on her heel, bumping clumsily against the
door in her attempt to get out of the fishing-house more quickly.  The
path was rough beneath the flimsy soles of her shoes as she ran from
him.  The sun suddenly seemed blindingly hot, the grasses threshing
against her skirt, the colours spinning in a whirling kaleidoscope.
Behind her, she thought she heard Lord Henry shout,

"Polly!

Wait!"

She did not turn.  Branded on her mind was the vision of Lord Henry's
naked perfection, overlaid with the conventional gloss of how utterly
she had humiliated herself and that she would never be able to face him
again as long as she lived.

She did not see the rabbit hole, did not realise her danger until she
had tripped headlong into the grass and nettles to lie still, winded,
with tears of pain and embarrassment stinging her eyes and the sound of
Lord Henry's footsteps drawing ever closer.

Chapter Eight QyssQ roily brushed the tumbled hair out of her eyes and
hastily attempted to sit up.  A sharp pain shot through her ankle as
she tried to put her weight on it.  At the same time, tiny stinging
patches of nettle rash seemed to rise on every exposed bit of skin.
With a groan she lay back in the grass.

The blue sky was abruptly blotted out.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  Lord Henry March night
demanded, with something less than his customary aplomb.

Even through her pain and misery, Polly was aware of relief that he had
taken time to dress before he had followed her.  He was not, perhaps,
as immaculately turned out as usual, but there was something powerfully
attractive about the sight of such casual dishevelment.  Polly turned
her head away with another groan.  To be able to think of nothing but
Henry March night's attractions at a time like this argued a disordered
intellect.

Henry's gaze took in her tumbled hair and the lines of pain on her
white face, and his tone changed abruptly.

 "You're hurt!"  He stretched out a hand and Polly flinched back,
trying to scramble to her feet.  She saw the angry colour come into his
face at her reaction, though his voice remained level.

"I assure you that you can trust me.  Lady Polly.  I am not so far gone
in debauchery as to take advantage of a de fenceless woman!  Besides,
what were you intending to do--get up and hop away from me?  Attack me
with your parasol, perhaps?"

He had gone down on one knee beside her in the grass now.

"This is no time to be missish."  He had taken her ankle in his hand
now and was exploring it with gentle fingers warm against the silkiness
of her stockinged foot.

Polly closed her eyes in an agony of confusion and mortification. Still
shocked and aroused by their confrontation in the fishing-house, she
found his touch almost unendurable.

But there was nothing remotely suggestive in Lord Henry's behaviour.

"You have sprained your ankle," he said in matter- of-fact tones.

"I doubt that you could walk on it even if you wanted to!  I will take
you back to the Court.  It is not far."  He scooped her up in arms that
made nothing of her weight.

Polly had started to feel very unwell.  The heat and the pain were
making her head swim and the colours all seemed too bright and blurred.
She turned her head against Lord Henry's shoulder, forgetting for a
moment her earlier discomfort in his presence.

"Oh, no, you cannot!  I cannot allow--' Her qualms surfaced again
before they had gone more than twenty steps.  Lord Henry did not even
slow his pace.

"Indeed?  Can I not?"  He sounded grimly amused.  "And how do you
intend to stop me?"  He settled her more comfortably in his arms.

"Close your eyes, if you cannot bear to think of being in my arms!"

After the bright glare of the sun, the cool entrance hall at Dilling
ham Court was blissfully shaded.  Polly, who had been lulled into
comparative peace by the gentleness with which Henry had carried her,
opened her eyes with reluctance.  Medlyn was hurrying across the hall
towards them, his brows almost disappearing into his hair at the sight
of Polly clasped close to Lord Henry yet again.  It was beginning to
look like a habit.

"Lady Polly!  Lord Henry!  Whatever has happened, sir?"

"Lady Polly has fallen and hurt her ankle," Lord Henry said tersely.

"Send someone for the doctor please, Medlyn, and if you could show me
to Lady Polly's room " Put me down!  " Polly hissed in a mortified
whisper.

"Certainly not," Lord Henry said, in exactly the same terse tone.

"Do not be so foolish!  You cannot stand!"

"I can try!"  Polly said obstinately, her mouth set in a tight line.

Lord Henry looked as though he would have liked to have slapped her if
he had had a hand free.

"Pray do not martyr yourself Fortunately, the drawing-room door opened
at that moment and the Dowager Countess and Nicholas Sea grave came out
into the hall, stopping dead at the sight in front of them.

"Polly!"  the Dowager Countess said faintly.

"What on earth " Lady Polly has sprained her ankle," Lord Henry said
again, with commendable patience.

"If someone could show me to her room?"

 "Of course."  Nicholas Sea grave had recovered himself and now
appeared to be trying to suppress some amusement as he considered his
sister's flushed face and her unwilling rescuer.

"Bring her this way, March night!  Has Medlyn sent for the doctor?  Oh,
good... Here..."

Polly's pillows were soft beneath her head.  She could feel her mother
fussing around her as Sea grave steered Lord Henry out of the room.

"Wait..."  It came out as a croak.  She opened her eyes.  Despite her
mortification, there really was something she had to say.

"Thank you, sir," Polly said, reluctantly looking at Lord Henry, and
for a moment she saw the expression in those dazzling grey eyes soften
as he smiled at her.  It made her feel quite weak, and not from
sickness.

"At your service.  Lady Polly.  I hope that you will be feeling better
shortly..."

"We're indebted to you for your help yet again, March night," Sea grave
was saying pleasantly, shaking his hand.

"A glass of something before you go, perhaps?  If you come down to my
book room..."  The door closed behind them.

There was a moment of silence, then, "Polly," the Dowager Countess said
imperiously, "I demand that you tell me what is going on!"

Polly's lashes flickered.  For a moment she hesitated, but it really
was easier to pretend that she had fainted.  She gave a little sigh,
turned her head on the pillow, and lay still.  She heard the Dowager
Countess sigh with exasperation.

"Polly Sea grave!  I vow and declare that you are the most trying child
sometimes!"

Polly vouchsafed no reply.

 "So," Lucille said, patting the bed beside her to encourage her
sister-in-law to sit down, 'you may now tell me precisely what happened
between yourself and Harry March night!  " It was a week since Polly's
accident and she had proved a poor patient.

She had kept to her room for the first day or two, resting her ankle as
the doctor had instructed, but the enforced inactivity had begun to
bore her and she had begged Sea grave to carry her down to the
drawing-room, where she could at least have some company.  And on this
particular morning, she had hopped into Lucille's bedroom as her
sister- in-law was taking her morning chocolate.

Lucille was much better.  The morning sickness that had brought her low
whilst travelling had now receded and she looked radiant.  She fixed
Polly with a wicked look over the rim of her chocolate cup.

"Do not seek to cozen me!  Oh, I know the story you have told your
mama!

But it stretches my credulity too far to believe that you happened to
be strolling by the river and tripped, and Henry March- night was just
passing and was able to rescue you when you fell!  So?  " Polly
hesitated.  She could not deny that it was heaven to have Lucille back
to confide in.  The Dowager Countess was very kind under her starchy
exterior, but it would have been impossible to tell her mother the
story of what had really happened.  And since Lucille had been shrewd
enough to guess at the fabrication.  "Well," she said cautiously, 'it
was true that I was walking by the river.

Mr Far rant has a fishing-house down there--just beyond the edge of our
land--and for some reason I felt compelled to go and explore it.

 I don't know why.  " The memory of Lord Henry's magnificent physique
came back to Polly, as it had done countless times in the past week.

"I

wish--oh, how I wish I had not gone in there!  " Lucille's lips
twitched.

"Come, now, it cannot be so tragic!  Was Lord Henry in the
fishing-house?"

"Yes!"  Polly raised stricken brown eyes to Lucille's blue ones.

"But he was not fishing!  That would have been quite innocuous!  Oh,
Lucille--' Lucille raised her eyebrows.

"I see!  I have not been in the house, but Nicholas mentioned it had a
plunge pool below the balcony.  They used to swim in the river in the
hot summers, he said, but..."  Her eyes widened.

"Oh, glory, Polly, do you mean to say that Lord Henry was in the
pool?"

Polly nodded.

"Yes, but--' " But?  " "He was getting out of the pool--' Lucille
clapped her hand to her mouth, her eyes enormous.

"Oh, Polly!  Was he-- Did he-- Was he undress edT " Completely!  "
Polly admitted.  She saw Lucille's appalled gaze and added miserably,
"I know!  And what did I do but stare in the most shameless manner
imaginable!  I do not know what came over me precisely!  But, Lucille,
I could not tear my gaze away!"

Lucille, with her superior experience and understanding of such
matters, rather thought that she could understand how Polly had become
so transfixed.

Despite her years, Polly was rather an innocent, as no doubt she ought
to be.

It seemed to Lucille that the Earl and Countess of Sea grave had gone
to great lengths to protect their only daughter, with the result that
Polly seemed like Sleeping Beauty, quite lacking the innate, age-old
understanding of the games played between the sexes.

Polly seldom flirted or practised her charms on any of her admirers.
She seemed quite unawakened, and yet there was something about Lord
Henry March night which obviously stirred her, and it clearly both
intrigued and frightened her.

Lucille's sense of humour began to get the better of her, despite
Polly's tragic expression.

"I imagine Lord Henry must have been well worth looking at!"  Lucille
said, trying not to laugh.

"Lucille!"

"Well?"  Lucille's blue gaze was amused.

"There is no harm in admitting it, Polly!  Leastways, not to me, though
I dare say your mama would not approve!  Come, it is not a tragedy!
Lord Henry is a very attractive man, and you have a tend re for him...
It would be more worrying if the sight of him had left you unmoved! But
whatever happened next?"

"I ran away," Polly said baldly.

"Which was how I came to trip and fall, and Lord Henry came after me--'
" Fully dressed by now, I hope!  " "Yes, indeed!  But when he offered
to help me I was all missish, for I was so embarrassed to have stared
so, and so confused... I have never felt that way before, at least not
with anyone else..."  Polly's voice trailed off hopelessly.  There was
a moment's silence, then Lucille patted her hand.

"Listen, Polly, there is nothing to be ashamed of in your behaviour.
Such matters are not discussed, I know, but your reaction to Lord Henry
was entirely natural!"  She looked at Polly's woebegone face and smiled
encouragingly.

"You have nothing to reproach yourself for."

 "No," Polly said wretchedly, 'but Lord Henry already has a low enough
opinion of me, Lucille!  He will be thinking me the veri est light
skirt!  I did not tell you before, but do you remember the morning you
went on the picnic, and how poorly I was feeling?  " At Lucille's nod
she rushed on.

"I

became intoxicated with the fruit punch at Lady Phillips's Ball the
night before, and then I tried to tell Lord Henry that I wished us to
be friends, but I got it all wrong and he ended up kissing me on the
terrace and it was dreadful--' Lucille was looking thunderstruck.

"Wait, wait!  What on earth were you doing drinking the punch?"

"I thought it was fruit cup," Polly said, suddenly and unaccountably
wanting to giggle.

"It was a very hot night, you see, and the drink was so refreshing...
Anyway, such a pea goose as I was, I did not realise that I was
intoxicated!  So when I had the chance to speak to Lord Henry I felt
marvellously brave, but he did not interpret my words in quite the way
I wished and before I knew it he was kissing me--' Suddenly she felt
the laughter welling up again, and once she had started she could not
stop.  Lucille put her cup down and sat in amused bewilderment.

"Polly, Polly!  Whatever happened?"

"I told you," Polly said, between giggles, 'he kissed me!  " "And you
said it was dreadful."  Lucille finished.

"Well, no..."  Polly's giggles started to subside at last.  She wiped
her eyes.

"The kiss itself was not dreadful, it was quite delightful..."

Again, her voice faded away as she remembered the stirring of her
senses, so intriguing and yet so frightening.

"I wanted him to go on kissing me for ever," she finished naively.

"Well, what is so wrong with that?"

Polly's eyes were enormous.

"But, Lucille, a lady does not kiss a gentleman before they are
married!"

She frowned.

"And then, when he rescued me at Hamp stead Wells..."  again she found
herself repressing a giggle at Lucille's rapt expression 'why, I
positively threw myself at his head!  He must think me very fast!  " "I
doubt it," Lucille said drily.

"It all sounds highly comical to me and hardly the stuff of which loose
women are made!"

Polly, to her own surprise, started to laugh again,

"Yes, I do see what you mean!  Although I have to say that there were
certain similarities between my conduct and that of Lady Bolt at
Richmond!"

"No, truly?  I have underestimated you, Polly!"

"That is what Lord Henry said!"  Polly admitted with a giggle,
provoking a look of speculative amazement from her sister-in-law.

"Now, Richmond..."  Lucille tried to look severe.

"I assume that you have not discussed it with Lord Henry?"

Polly sobered slightly.

"No, and I cannot see that we shall ever do so.  I am still resigned to
the fact that there is no future for me with Lord Henry, for he is
clearly unable to abandon his rakish habits."  A shade of colour crept
into her face.

"Indeed, it is one of the reasons why I feel particularly badly about
my behaviour."  She struggled a little for the words.

"It is not as if... that is... were we betrothed..."

But Lucille was smiling again.

"It does not do to worry too much about such things, Polly!  I have
the strangest feeling that all will turn out for the best.  Lord Henry,
I am persuaded, thinks no less of you for your conduct."  Her eyes
twinkled.

"Your folly in becoming foxed, however, is a different matter!"

Polly found herself laughing again in spite of herself.

"Yes, it was unforgivable in me and really very unpleasant to boot!  I
am sure Lord Henry thinks me a complete fool, which is dreadful!  And
now this business at the fishing-house... Oh, Lord, I really have made
a complete cake of myself!"

And she collapsed into fresh giggles.

Lucille was also laughing.

"And you think this a calamity?  It's the funniest thing I have heard
this age!"

"Yes!"  Polly raised eyes brimming with tears of laughter.

"I see now that it is!  Oh, thank you, Lucille!  I feel so much
better!"

"Our encounters seem to be becoming ever more dramatic.  Lady Polly,"
Lord Henry March night murmured, taking the seat next to hers in Mrs
Fitzgerald's drawing-room a week later.

"Is it possible for us to converse in a seemly fashion, do you think,
or will something untoward occur simply through our proximity?"  There
was a blend of mockery and amusement in the low tones which Polly found
infinitely disturbing, but she was not going to allow him to put her
out of countenance.

He had not called to see her during her convalescence and that alone
was enough to make her treat him coolly.  Although she would never have
admitted it, Polly had waited in vain through the hot summer days,
hoping that each peal of the doorbell might be Lord Henry, or that each
floral tribute might be his.

 She should have known better--it was all of a piece with his
behaviour in London--but it made it no easier to bear.

She gave him a cool smile.

"Provided that you are able to behave yourself we may do tolerably
well, sir," she said lightly.

"And now that I am so much better, I shall at least be able to make my
escape!  But--' her smile gained a shade of warmth '--I have not yet
had the opportunity to thank you for the service rendered to us in
London that night--' Lord Henry touched her hand so briefly, so quickly
that no one noticed; Polly thought she might have imagined it were it
not for the sensation of warmth his touch aroused.  She looked away,
confused.

"Do not speak of it.  I am just glad that no real harm came of the
occasion."

Polly reflected that Lord Henry's attractions lay not only in his
undeniable physical attributes but also in his charm of manner.  She
had hardened her heart against him and yet she could feel herself
weakening already.  He spoke as though she were the only person of
importance in the room and the intent look in those cool grey eyes was
for her alone.  And yet it had to be an illusion, for Polly had seen
him charming a dozen other women with that mixture of concentrated
attention and lazy grace.

In the days of Henry's absence, Polly had taught herself to be
sensible.

She had accepted Lucille's dictum that the feelings aroused in her by
Lord Henry were perfectly natural, but she was not at all sure that she
wished to experience them again.  Lord Henry was a rake who understood
such matters; Polly was aware of her own inexperience and timidity and
she had no intention of letting Lord Henry, whose intentions could
only be dishonourable, complete her education.  But avoiding him would
be difficult in the small social circle of Wood bridge, and remaining
impervious to his charm was even more of a problem.

To distract herself, she turned her brightest smile upon him.

"And what do you find to amuse you in Wood bridge, sir?  It must be
intolerably dull for one accustomed to more sophisticated
amusements!"

Lord Henry raised his eyebrows.

"And what other pursuits do you imagine me preferring.  Lady Polly?"

Polly blushed.

"Now, sir, I warned you--' " I assure you it was a genuine question,"
Lord Henry said idly.

"People have the most extraordinary preconceptions about my behaviour,
you see!"

"No doubt completely without foundation," Polly said with asperity,
meeting his bright, guileless gaze.  She smiled.

"Tell, me then, sir, to avoid misunderstandings, what it is you find of
interest in this part of the country."

"Well..."  Lord Henry looked thoughtful 'for a start, my father has
commissioned me to oversee the making of his new yacht down at the
boatyard, so that keeps me busy for part of the time.  Charles Far
rant, over at Leet wood, is a good friend of mine, so I have spent some
time there.  Then there is the society to he had here and the
entertainments in the Town.  But above all, Suffolk is so pretty a
county I feel I could walk and ride and swim--' he cast Polly a wicked
sideways look '--for as much time as I have available to me.  So you
see, I do not lack amusement.  " Polly had been feeling quite in
charity with him, until the mention of the swimming, for she found
Suffolk the prettiest and most tranquil place on earth.

 Now, however, the vision of Lord Henry emerging from the pool was
before her eyes again and she knew she had turned bright red.  Worse,
she knew that he knew what she was thinking of, for he said, very
softly, "It was a most stimulating encounter.  Lady Polly."

"I would call it shocking, sir."

"No, not at all... enjoyable, provocative..."  She knew he was teasing
her, pushing her to see how much licence she would allow him.  And
indeed, it was most difficult, Polly thought, for he made her feel so
much less prudishly conventional than normal.  There was a quickening
in her blood in response to this banter and he could read the signs,
knew she was responding to him even against her better judgement.

"Enough, Lord Henry!"  But Polly could not prevent herself smiling and
she saw him incline his head, though his eyes were still bright with
challenge, as if to say: "I will accept your decision this time but I
know that you are weakening..."

"You will be wishing me away, then, ma'am," he said politely.

"You must consult your own inclination, sir."  A faint smile touched
Lord Henry's eyes.

"Oh, as for myself, ma'am, I could sit here all day!  But I promised my
sister I would ask you a favour."  He nodded in the direction of Lady
Laura, who was sitting under the watchful eye of the Duchess.

"Laura feels a little isolated out at Fen church alone and I know she
longs for a change of company!  You have been good enough to show her
some kindness in the past.  May I beg the pleasure of bringing her to
you now?"

Lady Laura had caught his eye and was looking hopeful.  Polly
smiled.

"By all means.  Lord Henry.  I should be delighted."

The arrangement was soon effected.  Lady Laura took the seat beside
Polly and they chatted pleasantly for ten minutes, with Lord Henry
adding the odd, laconic comment every so often.  Laura expressed
herself very taken with Suffolk, although a little lonely in the house
out towards the sea on the Or ford road.  She explained that the
Duchess had taken it with the thought that the bracing sea air would do
Laura good, although she had not felt herself pulled down by her weeks
in London.  Polly's poor opinion of the Duchess's domineering ways
grew.  It seemed that she wanted to keep her daughter in what almost
amounted to seclusion.  Laura admitted to liking the house and its
situation near the beach, but regretted the lack of companionship close
by.  She was about to venture some further comment when Charles Far
rant, who had been conversing with Miss Dit ton, drew up a chair and
asked if he might join them.  Laura blushed and fell unaccountably
silent.

Polly observed this development with amusement and not a little
surprise.

Mr Far rant was hardly so romantic a figure that a young girl would
develop a tend re for him.  He was in his late thirties, pleasant and
slightly earnest, and he had a look of complete dog like devotion in
his kindly eyes as they rested on Laura.  She in turn, seemed unable to
look directly at him, but with shy smiles and sideways looks indicated
that she was not indifferent to his presence.  Polly, catching Lord
Henry's speculative gaze as he assimilated this unlikely attraction,
shared a look of conspiratorial indulgence with him.  A moment later,
he suggested that they go and admire Mrs Fitzgerald's gardens
together, leaving the smitten couple to progress their surprising
romance.

"Who would have thought it?"  Lord Henry said pensively, helping Polly
descend the wide, shallow stone steps which led from the drawing-room
to the chamomile lawn.

"I have the greatest regard for Far rant, but I never imagined he would
set the world on fire!  Yet Laura seems to find him agreeable enough,
and has done so from the moment they first clapped eyes on each other
at Fen church!"

He slanted a look down at Polly's serene face.

"I am further in his debt, for I imagine you would not have consented
to step outside with me were you not tempted to play matchmaker!

Shall we take a seat beneath that oak tree?  You should not walk far
until your ankle is fully mended.  " They were still in full view of
the house and it seemed perfectly proper.

The tree cast a cool shade and Polly sank on to the seat with some
gratitude.

"Thank goodness!  It really is too hot in the full sun!"

"Are we really mere acquaintances, to be discussing the weather?"  Lord
Henry asked lazily.

"I can think of far more interesting topics!"

It occurred to Polly that the proximity of the house and the fact that
anyone could see them from the window would not deter Lord Henry from
his customary outrageous behaviour.  His hand was lying along the back
of the wooden seat behind her and she was almost certain that he was
touching her hair.  A moment later he had entwined one of her ringlets
about his fingers, just brushing the sensitive skin of her neck as he
did so.  Polly moved her head sharply away.

"Will your parents look with kindness on an attachment between Lady
Laura and Mr Far rant?"  Polly asked, both to distract Lord Henry and
also because she had a genuine interest in Laura's future.

Henry sighed.

"I doubt it.  They intend her for John Bel lars--' He stopped as he saw
Polly's face.

"I know Bel lars made you an offer and you refused him, and no doubt
you share my opinion of him!  But rank and consequence will always be
in demand..."  He shrugged, as though the thought made him a little
uncomfortable.

"Is Lady Laura receptive to his suit?"  Polly asked hesitantly.  She
did not wish to be thought prying, but she could not believe that a
girl who was showing all the symptoms of love, as Laura was, could be
easily persuaded to look at another man.

"She was indifferent to all the plans made for her," Henry said
bluntly, 'until she met Far rant.  I observed her partiality from the
start and wondered at it!  But it will make matters devilishly
difficult.  Well--' he shrugged again '--we will see.  " He smiled at
Polly.  " A little while ago we were discussing my interests here in
Suffolk.  What do you find to do with your time in this delightful
backwater?  " Polly accepted that he wished to change the subject.

"Oh, I go riding when it is not too hot, and I walk and read and paint.
I have a fondness for watercolours although I would say my talent is
small.

And as you have seen, there is much company to he had."

"Yes, though not all of it congenial," Lord Henry observed.

"I find myself becoming ever less tolerant of poor company these days.
I rate intelligent conversation and good company above all other claims
of rank and importance!"

 "Outrageous!"  Polly said, trying not to laugh.

"You were not always so selective, sir!"

Henry raised an eyebrow.

"Can you be taking me to task, Lady Polly?"

There was a martial light in Polly's eye.

"Your attentions are bestowed somewhat indiscriminately, my lord!"

"I protest!  There is no truth in those rum ours!"

Polly looked sceptical.

"How can you deny it, sir?  I suppose that at the least I should
commend your taste in admiring my sister-in-law!"

Lord Henry raised a lazy eyebrow.

"I collect that you refer to Lady Sea grave?"

"How many other sisters-in-law do I have, sir?"  Polly snapped, wishing
she had not started on this line of conversation.

"Can you deny that you hold her in great esteem?"

"Certainly not!"  Henry said promptly.

"She is a woman of great good sense and I admire her extremely!  But
that is all there is to it!"

Polly noted how relieved she felt and perversely wished to punish
him.

"That at least could be understood I suppose!  But as for Lady Bolt! Do
you forget that I saw you with my own eyes at Richmond?"

"Ah."  Lord Henry stretched his long legs and admired the polish on his
boots.

"I wondered whether you would ever have the courage to challenge me
with that particular incident!"

"Courage!"  Polly was really annoyed now.

"It does not require courage, sir, only a little less regard for
convention than you would usually find in me!  I certainly have the
fortitude to accuse you of trifling with my feelings and of falling
prey to Lady Bolt's blowsy charms!"

Henry was laughing now, which only added to Polly's anger.  Normally
she would never have spoken thus.  To challenge a gentleman about his
behaviour was simply not done, particularly if that behaviour involved
a member of the demimonde.

"How unladylike in you to disparage a rival!  I would never have
thought it of you.  Lady Polly!"

Polly was incensed.

"Lady Bolt is no rival of mine!  She is welcome to you, sir!"

She tried to rise, but Henry caught her wrist and held her still.

"You think, then, that I had arranged to meet Lady Bolt at Richmond?"

Polly tried to sound scornful.

"I had assumed that to be the case!  Or perhaps I misjudge you! Perhaps
you simply seized an opportunity that presented itself to you?"

Henry was still looking amused but there was now a grim edge to his
smile.

"Oh, no, you are quite correct!  I did arrange to meet Lady Bolt, but
perhaps not for the reason that you suspect!"

"I am sure we were all able to guess what that reason was, sir!"  Polly
was smarting now from having her suspicions confirmed, and in so
apparently unconcerned a way.  Evidently Lord Henry was dead to all
sense of propriety!

"And if I were to say that I was more sinned against than sinning? More
kissed against than kissing, perhaps--would you like to know how that
feels.

Lady Polly?"

Their gazes locked for a heated moment, then Polly glanced
instinctively towards the house, a bare twenty yards away.

 "You would not dare!"

"A dangerous assumption!"

Afterwards, Polly was never quite sure how much had been duress and how
far she had moved of her own volition.  Certainly Henry had kissed her
and when he had stopped she had been in his arms, with no indication of
how she had got there or how long she had been there.  Indeed, she had
no memory of anything other than the delicious pleasure of being kissed
by him, a pleasure it would have been foolish to deny since her body
was betraying her enjoyment by pressing closer to him.

"Oh, dear.  Lady Polly," Henry said with regret, 'it seems that the
experience was not so repulsive for you as it was for me with Lady
Bolt!  " He gave her a mocking smile that made Polly want to slap him
and with an unforgivable breach of good manners, abandoned her on the
garden seat and strode off indoors.

"Oh!"

Polly only realised that she had spoken aloud when she saw the Dowager
Countess hurrying across the lawn towards her.

"Are you unwell, my love?"  her mother asked, her face creased with
concern.

"You sounded quite as though you were suffering from the indigestion!
And Lord Henry implied that you are not feeling in quite plump currant.
He said that the sun had gone to your head!"

"Oh!"  Polly thought that she would explode with indignation and
outrage.

"Conceited, intolerable man!"

The Dowager looked concerned.

"Really, my love, I do think you might show a little more gratitude!
Lord Henry has done us more than one great service!  If you find you
cannot like him, at least you could pretend!"

Chapter Nine QysQ roily was mortified when Lord Henry chose to escort
his mother and sister to Dilling ham the following day.  She had spent
a restless night tossing and turning, reproaching herself for her hasty
words to him and for giving him the opportunity to humiliate her
further.  It was only when she had become calmer that Polly had
wondered what Lord Henry had meant by saying that his reason for
arranging to meet Lady Bolt had perhaps not been what people might
think.  Though she puzzled over it, Polly could think of no explanation
other than the obvious.  It was another mystery to add to all the other
riddles surrounding Henry March night.

Fortunately Polly was not required to sit in the drawing-room and make
polite conversation with him.  Nick Sea grave offered to show Henry the
stables and the two of them went off, leaving the ladies alone.

The Duchess and the Dowager Countess Sea grave had never been close
friends, but they quickly found common ground in mutual acquaintances
and experiences, and when they were comfortably established, Laura
turned to Polly with a shy smile and asked if she might see the
orangery.

"I have heard that it dates from the seventeenth century and is very
fine,"

she confided, as they strolled along the covered colonnade that
connected the main part of the house to the conservatories.

"Mr Far rant, who was telling me something of the history of the house
and the village, said that lemons were grown here as early as 1690 and
that your family had wanted to carry on the tradition!  Only fancy!  He
is a very agreeable gentleman, is he not?"

Polly, who had allowed her thoughts to drift in the inevitable
direction of Lord Henry, was amused and a little surprised at the
determined manner in which Laura had already steered the conversation
on to what interested her.

She smiled.

"Indeed, he is!  We have known Charles Far rant for an age and always
found him a most pleasant and congenial man."

"I was surprised," Laura said a little hesitantly, avoiding Polly's
gaze, 'that such an amiable man was as yet unmarried.  But perhaps he
has some understanding with.  that is, perhaps there is a lady.  " Her
voice trailed away and she fixed Polly with a hopeful look from her
grey eyes.

Polly pushed open the orangery doors and they entered the humid
interior, heavy with the scent of citrus.

"Oh, no, I think it is simply that Mr Far rant has not yet met a lady
who made him wish to give up his bachelor state!  He was a great
admirer of Lucille-- Lady Sea grave--before her marriage, but I believe
he has never sought to enter the state of marriage himself!"

 Laura was listening with attention.  Polly was diverted by the
concentration the younger girl was devoting to the topic.  Clearly it
mattered to her a great deal.

"And his family?"  Lady Laura pursued, pretending to admire the orange
trees in their ornamental tubs.  "It is perfectly respectable, is it
not?"

Polly's lips twitched.

"Oh, entirely unexceptionable!  But..."  she hesitated, thinking it
only fair to sound a word of caution 'forgive me, I have no wish to
pry, but I am not entirely sure that Mr Far rant would be smiled upon
as a suitor for the daughter of a Duke!  His estate is relatively small
and although the family name is an old one--' She broke off, shocked,
as Laura burst into tears and sat down rather heavily on one of the
painted wooden benches.

"Oh, my dear!"  Polly, both taken aback and touched, sat down beside
her.

"I am so sorry!  I had no wish to upset you--' " No," Laura said,
groping for a handkerchief, 'it is entirely my fault, Lady Polly!  Oh,
thank you--' as Polly pressed her own handkerchief into her hand '--it
is just that I love him so much and I do not think that I can bear
it!"

Polly was silenced by this frank admission.  Evidently the March night
household was not one in which feelings were repressed--or else Laura
simply felt so strongly that in her youth and inexperience she could
not conceal it.

"It is as you say," Laura was continuing desperately, dabbing at her
reddened eyes.

"I believe that Henry had no objection for Mr Far rant is a friend of
his, but Mama spoke to me this morning--she said that Mr Far rant,
whilst being a perfectly pleasant man, was not a suitable match for
me.  She felt that his attentions were becoming too marked and that I
should discourage him.  But I don't want to discourage him!"  Her voice
rose.

"I am sure Mama will warn him off!  Or I shall be sent away!  Oh, what
shall I do?"

Polly reflected that she was not necessarily the best person to advise
Laura on the wisdom or otherwise of going against her family's
wishes.

Laura was the same age as she had been when she had been persuaded to
refuse Henry's proposal, although Laura could not know that.  For all
her gentleness, Laura March night seemed to have more certitude and
determination than Polly had ever felt.  She was certain of her love
for Charles Far rant and would not scruple to admit it.  Polly,
remembering her own doubts and indecision, felt curiously unqualified
to advise her.

Fortunately Laura seemed to feel better simply as a result of pouring
her heart out, and was now drying her eyes and tidying herself.

"I expect I look a shocking fright," she said, with a brave attempt at
a smile.

"I do apologise, Lady Polly--' Polly touched her hand.

"Do not!  Believe me, I can understand how you feel!  And that is why
my advice is that you can only follow your heart.

But make no hasty decisions!  It may be that your parents may relent
when they see how steadfast is your affection.  " The bright light of
determination was suddenly in Laura's eyes.

"Oh, I will!  Thank you!"

"You had better come up to my room to tidy up," Polly said, getting to
her feet.

"It is unconscionably hot in here, anyway!  And it is fortunate that it
is such a sunny day!  We may tell your mama that the sun has made your
eyes water!"

 It was unlucky that they came down the staircase at the moment the
gentlemen were crossing the hall from the stables.  Henry gave his
sister a searching glance and followed it up with a no less penetrating
look at Polly, which she tried to meet with equanimity.  Laura's eyes
were still a little pink and puffy, and her hastily proffered excuse
that she had been out in the sun met with Henry's look of blandest
disbelief.  He made no demur, however, when Polly suggested that they
join the others.

"I supp pose Laura has been telling you of the scene about Charles Far
rant,"

he said sotto voce in Polly's ear as he held the drawing-room door for
her.

"It is to be hoped that you were suitably un encouraging!"

Polly's eyes flashed.

"I seem to remember that you professed friendship for Mr Far rant
yesterday!"

she hissed, under cover of ringing the bell for more refreshments.

It was impossible to pursue any further conversation, but Polly's heart
sank when she considered the implications of Henry's words.  If he was
not prepared to support his sister, her case looked unhappy indeed.

Fortunately, the Duchess did believe Laura's pretence where her son had
been more discerning.  Scolding Laura for going out in the sun without
a parasol, she also scrutinised Polly's complexion for blemishes and
gave a small nod when she failed to spot any freckle.

"Perhaps Lady Polly might like to accompany me out into the
garden--with a parasol, of course," Henry suggested wickedly.

His mother frowned.

"A splendid idea, my boy, but not today!  Had you forgotten that we are
promised to the Fitzgeralds shortly?"  She lumbered to her feet and
gave a gracious farewell.  Polly wondered fleetingly whether Laura
would ever be as fat as her mama.

"Charming," said the Duchess, pinching Polly's cheek painfully on her
way out.

"Quite delightful.  You are to be congratulated on your daughter,
ma'am!  We shall see you again soon, I hope!"

Nicholas Sea grave was trying unsuccessfully to repress his laughter as
they watched the coach rumble off.

"I believe you have just been given the maternal seal of approval.
Poll," he observed.

"What an accolade!  The Duchess of March night favours you as a
daughter-in-law!"

Polly, examining her mixed feelings, was obliged to acknowledge that
one would have to love Henry very much to willingly accept such a
mother-in-law.

"Well," the Dowager Countess said fairly, "Laura March night is also a
charming child, dutiful and well behaved!  Sarah March night was only
saying just now that Laura had never given them a moment's trouble!
Why, Polly--' she looked at her daughter with concern '--you look quite
pale all of a sudden!  Too much sun, I suppose!  Oh, the evils of a hot
summer!"

Polly was in fact dwelling more on the twin evils of leading the
innocent Lady Laura astray and being considered as a potential bride
for Lord Henry.

If her mother only knew the advice she had dispensed to Laura but
fifteen minutes ago!  And the irony of suggesting that Lord Henry
should marry anyone when he was so obviously incapable of a necessary
steadiness of character!

Polly wandered slowly back up the steps as her mother forged on ahead,
instructing Medlyn to have the drains checked, "For this heat is
causing all kinds of noxious va pours!"

 The sound of horses' hooves on the gravel gave Polly pause just as
she was about to go inside.  A lone horseman was galloping up the
drive, sliding from the saddle in front of her and flinging his reins
carelessly to a grinning groom with a familiarity that suggested that
he was happy to be home.

"Peter!"

Peter Sea grave picked his sister up and twirled her about.

"Hello, Poll!  Who was that visiting just now?  Pretty little piece,
ain't she!"

"Peter," Polly said with asperity, 'that was Lady Laura March night and
she has come to the country precisely to avoid rakes such as
yourself!

Besides," she added with a little smile, 'you will have to fight
Charles Far rant for the privilege--he only met her a sennight ago but
he is already smitten!"

"Oh, well..."  Peter let her go and gave her a smile that seemed a
little frayed at the edges '. I'll secede graciously to Far rant's
prior claim!  I daresay I am not very welcome here, am I?  But I had
nowhere else to go!  " Polly slipped her hand through his arm.

"You are not in Mama's good books, certainly, but you know she is
always glad to see you at heart!  What has happened, Peter?"

"Pockets to let," her brother admitted reluctantly.

"I haven't a feather to fly!  Oh, God, Poll, I've been an unmitigated
fool!

I heard that Hetty had become betrothed to Edmund Grantley and I got
blind drunk and let Weller den's cronies fleece me.  So I've come to
throw myself on Mama's mercy!"

"It's not just Mama," Polly said, bluntly.

"Nicholas is here too.  He and Lucille returned early from their tour,
for Lucille is increasing.  You have missed all the news, Peter!"

"So it seems," Peter said, clearly torn between pleasure at the news of
an impending niece or nephew and concern at finding his brother
unexpectedly in residence.

Polly squeezed his arm.

"It will be all right.  But how did you hear about Hetty's
betrothal?"

"Lady Bolt told me," Peter said bitterly.

"She was at Weller den's place.

Said she'd had a letter from Hetty herself!  Straight from the horse's
mouth!

" Polly reflected that there were plenty of things one might call Lady
Bolt, of which a horse was the most flattering.

"I scarcely think Mrs Mark ham likely to allow Hetty to correspond with
Lady Bolt," she said carefully, 'foster sister or no!  I think you may
have been duped, Peter!  " Her brother seemed much taken by this
idea.

"Lord, I never thought of that!"  He paused in the entrance hall.

"The scheming harpy!"

"I thought you were much struck by Lady Bolt," Polly said, suppressing
a giggle.

"I remember that you admired her exceedingly and were most cast down
when she favoured Gars ton over you!  You do not sound so complimentary
now!"

Peter shot his sister a darkling look.

"Dashed improper of you to say so, Poll, though you may be right!"  He
grinned suddenly.

"The truth is the woman's a dishonest dory!  And anyway, I couldn't
afford her!"

Polly, enchanted by this graphically unflattering description of Lady
Bolt, nevertheless tried to get back to matters which were more
important.

 "But what do you intend to do about Hetty?"  she asked demurely.

"This news of a betrothal may all be a hum, Peter, and you do still
care about Hetty, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Peter said crossly.

"The silly chit is supposed to be marrying me, not Edmund Grantley!  I
tell you.  Poll, it goes against the grain with me to sit here and do
nothing, but what can I do?  Can't rush to Kings mar ton and call the
fellow out, can I?"

"At least you could go to Kings mar ton and find out what is going
on,"

Polly suggested hopefully.

Her brother looked unconvinced.

"Suppose I'd better go and beard Nick in his lair before I decide what
else to do," he said glumly.

"He's bound to cut up rough at me losing so heavily to Weller den.
Still, I'm not the only pigeon his lordship is intent on plucking!  I
heard that March night was due to arrive in a couple of days' time and
you know what a gamester he is!  Lady Bolt was aux anges to hear that
he was joining them!"

"Lord Henry?"  Polly was amazed and, she discovered, annoyed.

"But he has been here in Wood bridge these four days past!  He has just
been here now!"

"Well, he's expected at Weller den's place shortly," Peter asserted
incontrovertibly.

"Heard about it from Weller den himself!  Like I said.

Lady Bolt is waiting for him in an agony of impatience!  She don't let
her bed go cold!  " And with this final, scandalous sally he strolled
off to Sea grave's book room, unaware of the variety of emotions, all
of them unpleasant, which he had aroused in his sister's breast.

Peter stayed only a day at Dilling ham, much to his mother's dismay.
He had an uncomfortable interview with his elder brother, emerging
silent and tightlipped from Sea grave's room after half an hour.

The next morning Peter left for Kings mar ton at first light.

"I do hope that matters will sort themselves out," Lucille sighed,
sitting with her sister-in-law under a huge tented pavilion which had
been erected on Dilling ham Court's green lawns.

"Perhaps I was wrong to encourage Hetty to accept Peter last year.  She
is very young, after all, and marriage is a very serious business.  She
has shown a sad unsteadiness of character these months past--' " So has
Peter,"

Polly said frankly.

"This outrageous business of Lady Bolt, for example!  He and Hetty
deserve each other!"

Polly knew she sounded bad-tempered even before Lucille gave her a look
of amused concern.  Peter's intelligence that Lord Henry was taking up
with Lady Bolt again should not have surprised her, but it had
certainly made her very crabby.  To have to console the Dowager
Countess over Peter's abrupt arrival and departure had been almost too
much to bear, when his advent had brought her such unwelcome news.

"Upon my word, you sound very severe!"  Lucille said calmly.

"Quite as though you are suffering the gout!  Perhaps your own affairs
are not prospering either?"

"You are very acute, Lucille," Polly admitted with a half-smile,
feeling some of her good humour start to return.

"The truth is that I seem to have been dispensing advice liberally
these past few days, yet I can only seem to make a mull of my own
business!"  She sighed and got to the point.

"I

understand from Peter that Lord Henry March night was taking his place
at Weller den's houseparty--in more ways than one!  " Lucille put her
book down.

"Here's a tangle!  You mean to imply that Lord Henry has taken up with
Lady Bolt?  Surely Peter is mistaken?"

Polly shrugged pettishly.

"Is it so surprising after that flagrant public display at Richmond?
Oh, Lord Henry denied it to me, but I did not believe him!  What an
extraordinary woman!  Peter, Lord Henry and the Duke of Gars ton all in
the space of a few short weeks!  Anyway--' she shrugged again '--I
neither know nor care!  I am done with Lord Henry!  He is forever
flitting hither and thither like some will o' wisp!  It tries my
patience!"

"He certainly seems very busy for a man who has no purpose in life,"

Lucille agreed, straight-faced, remembering certain secret information
Nicholas had imparted to her about Lord Henry's activities.

"No purpose!"  Polly's indignation was well established again now. Like
many people who were seldom disagreeable, once she really lost her
temper she had to give it full rein.

"He seems to have purpose enough in gambling and debauchery!  And to
take up with Lady Bolt, who has been bought and sold by half of London!
Well, I will not take her leavings!"

"Oh, dear," Lucille said, lips twitching into a smile, 'you are
hopelessly in love with him still!  " "In love!  I have a mind to many
the next man who asks me!"

Polly caught Lucille's eye and her anger simmered into reluctant
amusement.

"Well, no doubt I am a fool to want a man to be other than he is..."

"Not at all!"  Lucille stretched like a cat in the warmth of the
sun.

"Rather, you would be a fool to settle for second best!

But I am still not entirely sure that Lord Henry has succumbed to
Susanna's rather overblown charms!  " She yawned.

"And let us hope Hetty does not feel as you do, or Peter may return
home without her!  She certainly has a great deal to forgive in his
behaviour!"

Polly sighed.  Despite the bright promise of the day, she felt
strangely discontented.

"Love!"  she said crossly.

'"Most loving mere folly," Lucille quoted lightly,

"Lord, why do I feel so tired all the time?"  And she fell asleep where
she sat.

The interview with Peter had obviously made Nicholas Sea grave as out
of sorts as his brother.  He was curt almost to the point of rudeness
at lunchtime, announced that he had a number of visits to make about
the estate and asked Polly, somewhat surprisingly, whether she would
like to join him on the ride.  As the day was fine and cooler than of
late, Polly agreed with alacrity.  They called at a couple of the
tenant farms, had tea and cakes at each since Polly was too
kind-hearted to refuse the offer, and finished with a gallop along the
springy turf at the edge of the sea before turning for home.

The fresh air and exercise had quite restored Polly's spirits and it
was unfortunate that as they entered the lime avenue that led up to
Dilling ham Court, the cause of her ill-humour should appear before her
eyes and undo all the good work of the afternoon.

Lord Henry March night, on an elegant bay, was just trotting down the
drive and reined in hastily at the sight of them.

 "Lord Sea grave!  Lady Polly!  This is good fortune indeed!  I am
just come from the house, where I was told you were out about the
estate.  I came to take my leave, for I shall be departing Suffolk on
the morrow."

Coming so quickly after Peter's assertions, this could only confirm
Polly's suspicion that Lord Henry was for the Weller den houseparty.
Her chestnut mare jibbed slightly as her hands tightened involuntarily
on the reins.

"Is this a permanent departure, Lord Henry?"  she enquired sweetly.

"You seem to be forever travelling hither and thither!  Such a busy
life!"

Out of the corner of her eyes she thought she saw a nicker of a grin
cross her brother's face, but Lord Henry remained impassive.

"A temporary separation only, Lady Polly," he said, very courteously.

"As you know, I am as fond of Suffolk as anywhere on earth!  I shall be
back as soon as I am able."

Polly made a great show of examining her riding gloves.

"And where is your present destination?"  she enquired, as though it
was of no great moment.

"I have heard that Buckingham shire is proving very popular this
summer!"

Lord Henry raised his eyebrows.  He was looking so lazily amused that
Polly felt herself go hot with annoyance.  So he thought it a diversion
to trifle with her feelings and then go after other game as the fancy
took him!

"Good luck and godspeed then, Harry," Nick Sea- grave said, leaning
over to shake his hand.  Polly, watching this display of masculine
complicity with irritation, nevertheless noticed the significant look
which passed between the two men.  She frowned a little as Lord Henry
turned his horse and cantered away.  It was almost as though Sea grave
knew something, and yet what was there to know?  Lord Henry was, by his
own admission, a man whose prime concern was to seek after pleasure,
and if there were other, more mysterious, aspects to his character,
what could Nick Sea grave know of those?

"I collect that you were wishing him good luck in his gambling," she
said crossly.

"In all his ventures," Sea grave agreed smoothly.

Lady Laura March night was becoming a regular visitor to Dilling ham
Court, where she and Polly would walk together in the gardens or set
their easels up with some idyllic aspect before them, in the hope of
capturing it in watercolours or charcoal.  Laura made no further
reference to her burgeoning relationship with Mr Far rant, and at the
evening soirees and parties in Wood bridge, under the watchful eye of
the Duchess, she appeared to be avoiding him.  Polly was sad but not
surprised that rank and consequence had won the day.  In the face of
the Duchess's powerful disapproval, it was difficult to see how the
romance could have prospered.

She asked no questions but simply enjoyed Laura's company, which was
certainly a welcome change from that of the Dit tons.

The Dit tons were relentlessly sociable, especially with those they
sought to cultivate, and it was difficult to avoid all their
invitations.  Polly, having managed to excuse herself from a trip to
the theatre in Wood bridge in their company, found that good manners
forced her to accept the next pressing invitation, which was to make up
a party to visit Myrmingham Abbey, a former Franciscan priory whose
ruins were particularly romantic and picturesque.

The scenery was indeed very fine but the company a sad trial with Mr
Dit ton uncertain whether to bestow his dubious compliments on Polly or
Laura, and Miss Dit ton sulking at not being the centre of attention.

"Lady Polly is becoming quite tanned," Mrs Dit ton observed to the
Dowager Countess, with a hint of malice, as they returned to the
carriages at the end of the day.

"I should not encourage my Thalia to wander about in the sun without a
parasol!"

Lady Sea grave looked hard at her daughter but could observe no more
than a healthy colour.

"Polly looks very well," she said coldly.

"And she always wears a hat with a very wide brim!"

They all returned from the outing in a scratchy mood that the romantic
ruins had done nothing to soothe and Polly was sorely tempted to reject
the suggestion that they all go to the Fair at Cold Hollow two days
hence.

Rather to her surprise, however, Laura March night seemed very eager to
attend and almost begged Polly to go with her.

"The Fair is accounted to be great fun.  Lady Polly," Laura said,
looking hopeful.

"I am persuaded that you would enjoy it a great deal!"

Her anxious face relaxed into a smile at Polly's reluctant
acquiescence.

In the event, Polly rather enjoyed the spectacle.  Cold Hollow was only
a small town, but its Fair was famous for miles around.  The
proceedings were opened by the Town Crier ringing the revels in as the
Mayor processed down the street, accompanied by four civic dignitaries.
They seemed very full of their own importance and Polly and Laura
could not help but laugh at their rather tattered livery of gold and
blue.

Once the ceremonial part was over, the traders and stall holders were
free to start peddling their goods.  The visitors strolled between the
booths, admiring the variety of entertainments, from livestock to a
small circus.

Tristan Dit ton was persuaded to show his prowess in the boxing booth,
despite Mrs Dit ton's protests that it was not suitable in front of the
ladies.  He took a heavy fall almost immediately against the Suffolk
Champion, Mal Mar combe.

"Oh, dear," Lady Laura whispered in Polly's ear, "I believe Mr Dit
ton's pride has taken the heaviest tumble!  He looks quite furious!  Do
let us stroll on ahead, Lady Polly, and avoid his ill temper!"

The day was fine with a light breeze, and it was fun to meander through
the crowd, eyeing the attractions.  Lady Laura caught Polly's arm.

"Oh, look, a gypsy fortune-teller!  I am minded to go in and discover
my destiny!"

Polly hesitated, for she was not at all sure that this was the sort of
entertainment of which the Duchess of March night would approve.
Turning around, Polly saw that Mrs Dit ton, their chaperon for the day,
was a considerable distance behind and appeared to be involved in some
kind of altercation with both her children and an angry stall holder.
Polly's heart sank.  She had no wish to rejoin them and become
embroiled in the dispute, and Lady Laura was already at the tent
entrance, ready to pull aside the flap and go in.

"Very well," Polly said weakly.

"I shall wait here for you, Laura.  And do not let them cozen you!"

But it was too late.  Lady Laura had already disappeared into the
tent's dusky, sweet-scented interior and with a sigh, Polly sat down on
the grass to wait.

It was very warm in the sun and Polly was almost convinced that she had
nodded off to sleep, although when she opened her eyes again everything
looked much the same.  She could not see the Dit tons, for which she
was profoundly grateful, but as she blinked against the bright
sunlight, she was almost certain that she saw Lady Laura, arm in arm
with Mr Far rant, just passing out of sight behind the roundabouts. She
scrambled to her feet, pulling aside the tent flap and peering into the
gypsy's den.

Dark, inquisitive eyes surveyed her from top to toe.

"Fortune, lady?"  the old woman asked, holding out a hand to encourage
Polly forward.

"I can tell you all about the handsome gentleman waiting to steal your
heart--' " No, thank you," Polly said hastily, backing out of the tent.
So Laura had slipped away!  Polly hurried past the stalls that lay
between her and the fun fair.  Where had they gone?  Polly could not
spot Laura's slender figure anywhere.  Bells for sheep, leather
gaiters, linen gaberdine for labourers, Birmingham jewellery... Polly's
head spun.  She hurried around a corner, convinced she could see Laura
in the distance, and found herself back in front of the fortuneteller's
tent.  Nor was she alone there.

"Good afternoon.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry March- night said politely.

Shock at his sudden appearance and the recollection that she had failed
in her duty to keep an eye on his sister held Polly silent for a
moment.

Henry was smiling very slightly.

"Have you lost your party again, perhaps?"

 "No, of course not," Polly snapped, brushing the grass from her skirt
and feeling foolish at having been caught in such a situation.

"I saw the Dit tons but a moment ago and I have been waiting for Lady
Laura, who--' " Who has tricked you into thinking she was having her
fortune told whilst in fact she is making secret assignations," Lord
Henry finished a little grimly.

"I take it that that is why I find you outside Madame Rose's tent, Lady
Polly?  You were not thinking of parting with your money in return for
the assurance that a tall, fair gentleman would presently sweep you off
your feet?"

"Oh!"  A variety of emotions, mostly uncomfortable, warred for
ascendancy within Polly.  She was not going to give him the
satisfaction of a reply.

She accepted Lord Henry's arm and they started to walk slowly between
the booths.

"It is too bad of Laura to take advantage of your good nature," he
said, after a moment, seeing that Polly's innate good manners made it
impossible for her to criticise his sister.

"In mitigation I can only say that she is very young and very much in
love, and has not yet realised that true friendship should not be
abused."

"If only she had confided in me--' Polly broke off, not wishing to
suggest that she would have helped Lady Laura deceive her family.  Lord
Henry's sudden appearance in search of Laura and his grimness in the
face of his sister's behaviour suggested that she certainly did not
have his support.

"Is it certain?"  she asked carefully.

"Do you know that she has arranged to meet Mr Fan-ant?  I did think
that I had seen them a moment ago."

 "Indeed you did."  Henry sounded rather grim.

"I saw them myself, walking past the gunsmith's stall.  In fairness to
Laura, I do not think that they mean to do more than meet and enjoy
each other's company, but she should know better... Of course, she had
no notion that I should be here today and see through her deception."

This brought Polly's mind back to other matters, equally
disagreeable.

"I

understood you to be at Weller den," she said, a little crossly.

"You are forever coming and going, are you not, sir?"

Henry laughed softly as he noted the martial light in her eyes.

"Ah, the gossips have been busy again!  Indeed, I spent a few days
there--' " In most entertaining company, I understand," Polly said,
despite herself.

"Oh, the best!  Can you doubt it?"

Polly almost stamped her foot, but knew he was only trying to provoke
her.

"Well, I dare say our tastes differ there, my lord."

"I should hope so!"  Henry laughed again as he saw her look of fury.

"Come, you know that I travel widely and have many interests.  Lady
Polly!  I am only teasing you!"

It was in some ways fortunate that they came across Mr Far rant and
Lady Laura at that moment.  The were standing before a small flock of
chickens, apparently engrossed.

"The best you could buy, sir," the poultry man was saying eagerly, 'and
a better price you will not find---' "Henry!"  Lady Laura said, in
horrified tones.  Her gaze travelled to Polly and a deep blush came
into her cheeks.

"Lady Polly, I thought--' " I doubt Lady Polly wishes to hear your
excuses now, Laura," Henry said, fixing his sister with a cold,
quelling gaze.

"You have used her most shamefully.  As for you, Far rant--' Henry's
gaze turned to the unlikely Romeo '--I should have expected better of
you!"

Charles Far rant started to stammer apologies and Laura to cry quietly.
The poultry man took his cap off and scratched his head at this
unexpected turn of events.  They were attracting quite a lot of
interest.  Polly touched Henry's arm.  She had seen the Dit tons, with
their unerring instinct for scandal, approaching down the row of
stalls.

"This will have to wait," she whispered hastily.

"We must all pretend that we met up by chance, I think.  Mrs Dit ton!"
She turned with a beaming smile to greet the lady.

"How glad I am to have found you again, ma'am!  And only see, Mr Far
rant and Lord Henry are here as well!  How the good weather brings
people out of doors!"

Henry was smiling a little at such inanity, but he followed Polly's
lead easily enough.

"Far rant has told me that the Fairs here are renowned for their local
colour, ma'am, and I thought to take a look.  I am returned from
Buckingham shire only yesterday..."

The image of Susanna Bolt came into Polly's mind again, incongruous
amidst all the fresh air and sunlight.  It could only serve to make her
ill temper worse.  Laura was sniffing a little and Polly took her arm,
drawing her away from Miss Dit ton's prying eyes.  Any enjoyment had
gone from the day.

"I'm sorry," Laura whispered as Polly hustled her back towards the
carriages.

"It was not that I did not trust you, but Charles said I was not to
tell anyone!  I have been very foolish..."

 unlikely that Lady Laura would be permitted to remain in Suffolk now
that this not-so-secret romance had been found to be nourishing, and
Laura had not really done anything very bad.  She looked at the girl's
reddened eyes and noticed with a flash of irritation that Miss Dit ton
was almost running in her attempt to catch up with them.  The tears
could not be concealed.

How then to explain them?  Her talent for deception was being stretched
to the limit.

"You should not believe all that the fortuneteller told you, Laura,"
she said loudly.

"I might have known that she would upset you!"

Miss Dit ton's avid face appeared over Laura's shoulder.

"Oh, whatever can she have said?"  She asked eagerly.

"Dear Lady Laura, do tell!"

It was Lord Henry who answered, a hint of malice in his grey eyes.

"She told my sister to beware of false friends.  Miss Dit ton, and to
value true friendship above rubies!"

Chapter Ten QzrsQ It was a sad little party that made its way back to
Wood bridge.  Charles Far rant and the March nights had gone their
separate ways, with Lady Laura still sniffing into her handkerchief.
Miss Dit ton spent the entire journey speculating spitefully about
Laura and Mr Far rant, pressing Polly to give details of the encounter
between them and Lord Henry, certain that it was less good-humoured
than Polly insisted.  Polly's head ached.  She had no wish to be
obliged to lie even more and it only made Laura's treatment of her seem
more shabby.  She had liked the girl and considered her a friend.  It
was lowering to imagine that she had been used to further the
clandestine romance.  As for Lord Henry, she did not wish to think of
him at all, for all her thoughts were melancholy ones.

It was with considerable relief that they reached the gates of Dilling
ham Court, and Polly insisted on leaving the Dit tons' coach and
walking up the lime avenue to the house.  As she approached the
carriage sweep, she was startled to see a travelling coach on the
forecourt surrounded by what seemed vast amounts of luggage.  Polly's
spirits lifted and her step quickened.

This had to be Peter and Hetty Mark ham, back from Kings mar ton.

That must mean that the two of them were reconciled, which was a
much-needed piece of good news.

Polly found the whole family assembled in the rosewood drawing-room.
Miss Mark ham, a pretty girl with huge blue eyes and copious amounts of
curling brown hair, was standing clutching Peter's hand and looking
embarrassed as she responded to the Dowager Countess's slightly frosty
welcome.

"Hetty and I are to be married in six weeks' time," Peter was saying as
Polly slipped into the room.

"We see no point in waiting any longer.  After all, the wedding has
already been delayed once."

The Dowager Countess blanched a little, startled into plain-speaking.

"Six weeks?  There will be a lot of talk, Peter!  Everyone will say
that you have anticipated your marriage vows and need to make a hasty
match--' Hetty flushed bright red and muttered something incoherent.
For a fleeting moment she put her face in her hands, a gesture which
Polly noticed with both concern and curiosity.  Peter was standing his
ground in the face of his mother's bluntness, although he too had
reddened.  There was a very curious atmosphere in the room, Polly
thought.  She took a chair unobtrusively by the fireplace and accepted
a cup of tea from Lucille with a slight smile of thanks.

"Please, Mama!"  Peter was saying carefully.

"I suppose we must resign ourselves to being the subject of ill-bred
remarks, but I do not intend to let my life be governed by it!"

Polly and Lucille exchanged a look.  It seemed to Polly that Peter had
grown in stature since he had gone away.  There was a protective
element in his behaviour towards Hetty that was very obvious and must
surely augur well for their future relationship.  Miss Mark ham, in
contrast, seemed to have lost much of her natural ebullience and
vivacity but perhaps this could be put down to an embarrassment at the
rupture with Peter, now so fortunately overcome.

There was an awkward little silence that threatened to become
prolonged.

Polly hastened forward to kiss Hetty and draw her over to the sofa
where she started to ask about the journey and enquire into Mrs Mark
ham's health.

Gradually Miss Mark ham relaxed a little and by the time the drinks
were replenished, accompanied by some more of Mrs Appleton's delicious
honey cakes, she was chatting almost as normal.  It still seemed to
Polly that there was something brittle in Hetty's manner and her eyes
watched Peter almost constantly as if for reassurance.  Polly, tired by
the events of the day and the difficult scene at the Fair, noted
Hetty's change of manner but felt too weary to think about it properly.
It slipped to the back of her mind during the lively and enjoyable
family dinner that followed, and it was only as she was brushing her
hair before the mirror at bedtime that she remembered Hetty's tension
and wondered at it.  She could think of no explanation, however, and
went to bed thinking that she must speak to Lucille about it.  If
anyone would know what was the matter with Hetty, it would be
Lucille.

Polly would have been astonished to learn that a lone visitor called at
Dilling ham Court that night, long after she was abed.  Medlyn had
taken the visitor's card along to the study where the Earl of Sea
grave sat up late, poring over old estate maps.  He ushered the man
into the Earl's presence and accepted his master's instruction that he
should then go to bed.  He asked no questions and in the morning all
recollection of the visit had slipped his memory.

When their business was finished, the Earl offered his guest a second
glass of brandy and sat back.

"So, how does your suit prosper.  Harry?"  he asked idly.

Henry March night gave his lop-sided grin.

"Very badly, I thank you!  Your sister is now convinced that I am a
hardened rake and lecher!  She has me pursuing Lady Bolt from Richmond
to Buckingham shire!  Never has the price of information been so
high!"

"Lady Bolt ruining your reputation, is she?"  Sea- grave asked with
spurious sympathy.

"I thought she must have some information you wanted!  I could not see
you getting caught like that otherwise!"

Henry grimaced.

"Would that Lady Polly had your discernment, Sea grave!  But I can
hardly blame her for jumping to the obvious conclusions!  After all, I
have deliberately made a name for myself as a rake and gamester.  To
plead innocence now, no matter how genuine, will cut little ice."

"Susanna Bolt is a deeply mercenary and unpleasant woman," Sea grave
said absently, folding his map of Dilling ham away.

"Can she be caught in the same net that will trap Chapman, Harry?"

"I hope so."  Henry drained his glass.

"I plan it to be so!  But there is another I am more anxious to
catch..."

"An unholy trinity," Sea grave agreed.

"I must confess I do not like it.

Harry.  Whilst he is free to come and go as he pleases, there is great
danger.  " Henry nodded.

"I agree, but we cannot move against him until we are sure of Chapman.
Until then, the risk must be run."

"He does not suspect you?"

"No."  Henry permitted himself a grim smile.

"His vanity is such that he suspects no one!  And that will be his
downfall!"

The following morning heralded another glorious, late summer day, with
a sky as blue as cobalt and the sea as smooth and soft as silk.  Polly,
established with her easel in the shelter of a group of trees, watched
as Peter and Hetty, and the rest of their party, strolled away down the
beach in the direction of the small huddle of houses which constituted
Shingle Street.

They had had a delightful picnic lunch and now Miss Dit ton had
declared it time to call upon the poor fisher families who eked out a
living in this isolated spot.  Polly pitied the unsuspecting poor.

The settlement at Shingle Street had been augmented in the recent wars
when a Martello Tower had been built as part of the coastal de fences.
The only other habitation in the vicinity was the romantically named
House of Tides, the home of Lady Belling ham, former actress and black
sheep of the county.

Polly had intended calling on her ladyship, who had been a staunch
friend of Lucille's before her marriage, but Miss Dit ton had drawn
back from the suggestion with distaste.

"Lud, to call on the actress?  My mama would have a fit of the va pours
if she heard I had been consorting with such a person!"

Polly had reluctantly abandoned her plans of the visit, not wishing to
cause disagreement amongst the party and privately reflecting that it
was probably unkind of her to inflict Miss Dit ton's company on so
likeable a character as Lady Belling ham.  All the same, she was
sorry.

It was very quiet and the breeze was pleasantly cooling.  Polly became
engrossed in her sketching, enjoying her solitude, and had no idea how
long she sat there.  Her attention was eventually drawn back to the
present by the small scrape of stone on stone, a little distance away
along the shingle beach.  She put down her charcoal and listened.  The
noise came again.  There appeared to be no one on the wide empty
seashore, nor could Polly see anyone else nearby.  The cries of
children reached her faintly from the cottages where Miss Dit ton was
no doubt exercising her patronage, and she could just see Peter and
Hetty in the distance, wandering hand in hand along the shore,
engrossed in each other.

Polly got to her feet slowly and trod across to the edge of the springy
grass.  The small cliff sloped away steeply down to the shingle and
cast a dark shadow.  Polly squinted in the bright sunlight, then
recoiled in surprise at the sight of a figure emerging from the shade a
mere twenty yards away.  It was Lord Henry March night.  He was dusting
the sand and shale from his hands and shaking more debris off his
jacket.  He had not seen her.

"Oh!"  Polly's foot slipped as she stepped hastily backwards, sending a
small shower of stones down onto the beach.  In an agony of suspense
she heard them bouncing off the rocks below and peered down to see Lord
Henry, his eyes narrowed against the sun, staring straight up at her.

"Lady Polly!"  Lord Henry took the steep cliff path with ease and
arrived beside her barely out of breath.  "How do you do, ma'am!  I had
no idea that you were there!"

"I have been sketching."  Polly gestured towards the easel, its paper
flapping in the breeze.  For some reason she felt defensive, needing to
excuse her presence.  And Lord Henry was displaying all his habitual
careless elegance and assurance, which was annoying since he had been
creeping about on the beach in a most suspicious manner.

"But surely you are not alone?"  Lord Henry looked round.

"Where are the others?"

"Oh, they have gone to dispense charity to the villagers," Polly said,
trying not to laugh.

"Miss Dit ton is calling on the poor."

"Good God, must she?"  Henry looked disgusted.  "But you prefer the
solitary company of your sketch book?  I cannot blame you, ma'am!"

They started walking slowly along the top of the cliff in the direction
of the House of Tides.

"How is Lady Laura today?"  Polly enquired hesitantly.  She did not
wish to pry, but was very afraid that there would have been unhappy
repercussions as a result of the clandestine meeting at the Fair.

Henry sighed.

"She is not at all well, I am afraid.  My mother has forbidden her from
ever speaking to Charles again and she has taken it very badly.  Laura
is young and headstrong..."  He shrugged uncomfortably.

"Mama has always considered her delicate, never realising that Laura's
spirit is at least as strong as her own!  When I suggested at Dilling
ham that you should not encourage Laura in her feelings for Charles it
was not because I disapproved of the connection, but only because I
knew how it could split the family!  Indeed, I have tried to argue her
case, but it was no use..."

He shrugged again and fell silent.

Polly felt a rush of mingled relief and apprehension.  She was glad to
know that Henry was not motivated by the same regard for status and
consequence as his parents, but like him she could see that Laura's
love for Charles Far rant would set her on a collision course.

"Will Laura accept her mother's edict?"  she asked carefully.

"If not, perhaps Mr Far rant might be persuaded... But he seems as
smitten as she... Oh, dear, it is so very difficult!"

Henry smiled at this masterly understatement.

"I believe both of them are in earnest and neither will waver in their
regard!  By far the best course would be for my parents to accept the
less-than-brilliant match, but I doubt they will see matters in the
same light!  I believe Mama will try to send Laura away."  His gaze met
Polly's.

"Laura deeply regrets the way that she treated you yesterday.  Lady
Polly.

She would not for all the world have risked your friendship, but she
was foolish and her head was filled with romance--' Polly made a slight
gesture of dismissal.

"I understand.  I would not wish to lose Laura's friendship either and
I am sorry that she is so unhappy."

They walked on a little in silence.  The breeze was freshening,
whipping Polly's hair loose of its pins and tugging at her skirts.

"No doubt you too will be leaving soon, sir," Polly said, a little
coolly in case Lord Henry thought that the answer mattered to her.

"Indeed, I am surprised to find you are still with us!  You do not
usually find our dull occupations diverting for more than a day or two
at a time!"

Henry slanted a look at her.  He was smiling.  Polly found it most
unsettling.

"Oh, I intend to be settled here for a while!"  he said easily.

"And in truth, there are far more exciting things happening here than,
say, at Weller den's houseparty!  You would be surprised, ma'am!"

Polly felt vaguely irritated.  Lord Henry always seemed to be singing
the praises of Suffolk--then hurrying off to be elsewhere.

"You certainly seemed fascinated by whatever you discovered on the
beach just now, my lord!"  she said, a little snappishly.

"What was it?  A piece of driftwood?  A message in a bottle?"

"I do believe you are essaying satire.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry said
admiringly.

"But you should not mock me, you know!  I was investigating a tale I
had heard, which was that there is a secret passageway from the House
of Tides out under the cliffs.  I think I may have found the entrance!
Would you like to see?"

"A secret passageway?"  Polly was curious despite herself.

"You mean--for smuggled goods?"

"No doubt that was what it was used for some years ago," Lord Henry
agreed, 'although there's precious little to be gained from such a
trade now that the excise duties are so reduced.  I imagine the passage
to have been silted up for some time, but it is interesting, is it not?
I must ask Lady Belling ham's permission to investigate further. Would
you care to see the cave entrance?  " "I think not," Polly said
severely.

"To go in there with you would be the utmost folly!"

 Lord Henry grinned.

"Perhaps you are right, ma'am!  Ah well, I see I must continue my
investigations alone!  And no doubt I should return you to your party
now.

They must be becoming anxious of your whereabouts."

There was no sign of the others as they re trod the springy turf path
back to where Polly had left her paints and paper.  Lord Henry viewed
her drawings with undisguised interest.

"This is very pretty," he commented, pointing to a sketch of the
tumbledown cottages, their washing blowing against the blue sky.

"But this..."  he paused 'this has real depth and passion.  The earth
colours, the texture.  It is a very sensuous picture.  " His gaze dwelt
thoughtfully on her for a moment and Polly hurriedly covered the
painting up.

It was a country picture that she had drawn a few weeks previously, a
study of the fields and woods about Dilling ham, but instead of her
usual pastels she had used oil paints and the effect had been
startling.  The rich reds and browns had given the painting a tactile
quality, as though one could almost step into the picture.  Polly was
not quite comfortable with it.

The breeze was becoming fresher now and Lord Henry was frowning a
little as he scanned the eastern horizon.

"I do believe we are in for a storm.  Do you see those clouds massing
out at sea?  Where are your carriages, ma'am?"

Polly turned.

"I think they must have gone down to the village to collect the others,
sir.

But it is only a step.  Perhaps if I follow them down--' The first drop
of rain landed on her drawing paper, apparently out of the blue sky.
It was followed by another and another.  The wind had suddenly become
strong.

Polly bent to scoop up her scattered paints and paper and stuff them
all into her portfolio.  The easel blew over with a sudden crack,
making her jump.

"We had best seek shelter," Lord Henry said, all hint of easy amusement
gone from his tone.

"No, it is too far to the village.  The House of Tides is nearer.
Hurry, please!"

Polly could understand his urgency.  She had no coat to protect her,
and already the rain was heavier.  The sky over the sea had turned a
leaden grey.

She could not believe how quickly the weather had changed and now the
air was heavy with the threat of thunder.

The first nicker of lightning touched the sky as they reached the edge
of Lady Belling ham's land.  Polly was almost in a panic now.  She
hated thunderstorms and the ones that rolled in from the sea could be
particularly fierce.

"Not far now."  Henry's voice was reassuring.

"We will go in the back way, through the shrubbery, as it's closer."

He held the little gate open for her and they slipped through as the
rain began to pour in earnest.  Polly, clutching her soaking portfolio
and box of crayons under her arm, wondered briefly what on earth Lady
Belling ham would make of the arrival of two such drowned rats.  She
had only met her ladyship a couple of times for, though travelling
copiously.  Lady Belling ham was virtually a recluse when she was in
Suffolk.

Henry helped Polly up on to the terrace with a hand under her elbow.
The steps were slippery in the rain and she almost stumbled.

 Then the French windows were flung open before them and Lady Belling
ham's rich contralto tones, warm with amusement, said, "Well, upon my
word!

Apollo and Niobe!  Or am I mixing my Greeks and Romans?  I was never
very good at mythology, alas!  " Polly, regardless of her dripping
clothes, found herself engulfed in a huge scented embrace.  Lady Bel-
ling ham's many colourful scarves wafted about her like a massive
sheet.

"Dear child!"  her ladyship said fondly.

"How delightful to see you again!

And Henry!  " Now there was a roguish twinkle in her dark eyes, "You
have been away too long, dear boy!"

There was a fearsome clap of thunder overhead.  Polly jumped
violently.

"Come in, come in!"  Lady Belling ham urged, stepping back so that they
could go into the drawing- room.

"We have come to throw ourselves on your mercy, Lady Belling ham,"
Henry said with a smile, pushing the soaking hair back out of his
eyes.

"Lady Polly and I were taking a stroll on the cliffs when the storm
came up, and we thought to seek shelter here.  Lady Polly has become
separated from her party in all the confusion.  I apologise for the
imposition."

"Nonsense, dear boy, and you know it!"  Lady Bel- ling ham clapped her
hands so that her bracelets jingled loudly.  A fat white cat, asleep on
a puffy sofa, raised its head briefly before closing its eyes again
with the most perfect indifference.

"I adore excitement, as you know," she continued, eyes sparkling, 'and
I lead such a retired life usually.  Your arrival is most timely for I
was about to succumb to ennui.  I shall rely on you for all the gossip
in recompense!  " Her eye fell on Polly, dripping quietly on to the
carpet.

"Dear me!  I should not keep you talking or you will catch a chill!
Now, I will take Lady Polly away to change her clothing and Gaston, my
general factotum, will fetch some dry things for you, my dear Henry!
Then he can go and see if he can find trace of your friends, my dear."
She smiled at Polly.

"I am sure we can reunite you all soon!"

She swept Polly out of the room, paused briefly in the hall to summon
Gaston and give him her instructions, then whisked Polly off up the
ornate staircase to a small bedroom decorated in the French fashion.

Polly stared at her reflection in the pier glass with something
approaching horror.  Her hair was straggling around her face, drying in
wisps, and her clothes were sticking to her.  She was not normally
vain, but she could hardly bear to think of Lord Henry seeing her
thus.

Lady Belling ham smiled understandingly.

"Never mind, my love!  I am sure Lord Henry finds your dishevelment
attractive rather than otherwise!  That was always my experience of
gentlemen!  And I can see that he admires you exceedingly!"

Polly blushed bright red.

"Oh, Lady Belling ham, I think you must be mistaken.  Lord Henry and
I--' She broke off, quite unable to continue in the face of Lady
Belling ham's amused cynicism.

"Fustian, my dear!  Stuff and nonsense!"  Lady Bel- ling ham was busy
pulling some enormous gowns out of the closet.  Her voice was
muffled.

"You may pretend to be indifferent to each other, but you cannot cozen
me!

I have known Henry March night for years and he has never truly cared
for any young lady.  But you !  Well!"  She emerged with a huge lilac
coloured dress over her arm.  Polly held it up in front of her.  It was
going to look like a tent.  If Lord Henry found her attractive in that
then the only explanation could be that his wits must have gone
a-begging.

Chapter Eleven QrysQ JVliss Dit ton certainly found the outfit rather
diverting when she and the rest of Polly's lost party were shepherded
into the drawing-room an hour later.

"La, Lady Polly, you are all the crack!  You must tell me where you buy
your modes!"

"Miss Dit ton, I presume!"  Lady Belling ham glided forward smoothly to
greet her unwanted guests.  Her smile was all that was gracious, but
there was a look in those world-weary dark eyes that suggested that she
had met Miss Dit ton's type many times before and knew precisely how to
deal with them.

She welcomed Miss Dit ton and her brother coolly, Hetty with more
warmth and Peter with almost as much enthusiasm as she had shown Henry,
who was now lounging before the fireplace watching with amusement.  He
looked considerably more elegant in his borrowed plumes than Polly did
in hers.

Polly wondered where Lady Belling ham had got such stylish gentlemen's
clothes from.  She could hardly imagine the lugubrious Gaston cutting a
dash in the slim black pantaloons, black jacket and snowy white
shirt.

Gaston had found Polly's companions huddling in one of the cottages in
Shingle Street.  When the rain had started they had hurried to the
carriages, intent on setting off back immediately until Peter had
remembered Polly and had set out to look for her.  This had delayed
them sufficently for the road to become waterlogged, since it was
scarcely more than a sandy track, and they had no choice but to inflict
their presence on one of the glum village families until the rain
stopped.

This was not quite how Miss Dit ton saw their predicament and she was
loud in her condemnation of the noisome cottage and its smelly
occupants.

'and do you know, my dear Lady Polly, they actually had the animals in
there with them!  " She shuddered.

"Apparently it helps them to keep warm!"

Polly caught Henry's eye just as he tried to repress a smile.

"Doubtless your presence incommoded the poor pigs considerably," Lady
Belling ham said, with a suspiciously straight face.

"They are not animals that take kindly to a disruption of their
routine!"

The precise nature of Miss Dit ton's difficulties now became clear. She
could not snub Lady Belling ham, for she had no doubt that her ladyship
was perfectly capable of turning her out into the rain if she chose. 
On the other hand, the Dit tons had never acknowledged the former
actress, even after the Sea graves had taken her up.  Mr Dit ton
cleared his throat noisily, settling himself on the sofa.

"Extraordinary customs these inbred country folk have!  Why, I
remember--' He broke off with a loud yelp.

"Good God, ma'am, that creature has bitten me!"

Lady Belling ham smiled fondly at Horace the cat, who was moving more
swiftly than anyone had ever seen in his attempt to get away from under
Mr Dit ton.

"Dear Horace," Lady Belling ham said sweetly.  "Such a good judge of
character!  You are sitting in his place, I fear, Mr Dit ton.  He will
not be quick to forgive!"

Fortunately a loud thunderclap interrupted this exchange and the ladies
all exclaimed in dismay.  The rain was still tumbling from a leaden
sky.

Lady Bel- ling ham prosaically ordered tea and Henry sensibly suggested
that Tristan Dit ton and Peter join him in a game of billiards to while
away the time.

The rain ceased for a while at about five, but Gas- ton gloomily
reported that the road was still impassable by carriage.  Henry
suggested sending a messenger to Dilling ham, Fen church and
Westwardine to explain that they were marooned for the night, and the
Dit tons reluctantly agreed.

"I suppose staying here for the night is preferable to being set upon
in the forest in the dark," Miss Dit- ton said discontentedly, staring
out at the drenched garden.

"Preferable for you at least," Henry agreed blandly, smiling at her.
Polly stifled a giggle.  She had noticed how Henry's personality had
undergone a subtle shift again as soon as they had company.  He was
still perfectly pleasant but the incisive edge had gone.  Once again,
Polly puzzled over the curious insipidity he could apparently assume at
will.

"Perhaps, Miss Dit ton, if you are very fortunate, Lady Belling ham
will lend you one of her night dresses," she said politely.

"Oh, my maid, Conchita, has just the thing for Miss Dit ton!"  Lady
Belling ham said cheerfully, ignoring Thalia Dit ton's look of horror
at being obliged to wear a maid's night garments.

Lady Belling ham, revelling in her unexpected dinner party, did them
proud with a meal of quail's eggs, honey-roasted duckling and
strawberries with cream.  Even Miss Dit ton could not find fault with
the hospitality.  In the nickering candlelight they looked a motley
crowd.  Peter had become soaked looking for Polly earlier and had
borrowed one of the late Lord Belling ham's outfits.  Unfortunately his
lordship, like his spouse, had been built on ample lines and had also
been several inches shorter than Peter.  Polly felt like a small girl
who had been rummaging in the dressing- up box and there was something
distinctly raffish about Henry March night's appearance, with no neck
cloth and his tumbled faif hair.

Polly thought he looked most attractive but rather as though he had
spent a long night at the gaming tables.

It was, in fact, one of the most enjoyable aspects of the evening that
Henry spent so much time in her company.  The others played a few
desultory hands of whist and Miss Dit ton insisted in entertaining them
at the pianoforte, but Henry gently monopolised Polly's company and
talked to her for most of the evening.  Nor was it idle chitchat--they
discovered and rediscovered their shared interests in music and the
theatre, reading, walking and the countryside.  Polly did not want the
evening to end.

Miss Dit ton yawned loudly.

"Lud, how quiet it is out here in the middle of nowhere!  I declare I
would succumb to a fit of the meg rims if I were forced to spend any
time here!

One could imagine all kinds of spectres and demons howling at the door!
" "They do say that Rendlesham Forest is haunted, Miss Dit ton," Lord
Henry said idly, 'so it is fortunate you were not obliged to make your
way back through the dark.  A broken axle, a lost wheel, and you would
be at the mercy of the spirits!  They say that the black shuck, a huge
black spectral dog, stalks its prey on stormy nights!  " Mr Dit ton
gave his excitable, whinnying laugh.

"Or you would be at the mercy of more human predators!  Is it true,
dear Lady Belling ham, that there is a band of smugglers still at work
in these parts, tapping on the window to signal the delivery of their
goods, hiding brandy kegs in the churches...?"

Polly shivered as the shadows flickered.  Out here, isolated on a
stormy night, it was easy to believe almost anything.  Hetty's eyes
were huge and frightened as she clutched Peter's hand.

"I have never heard of it," Lady Belling ham said comfortably, leaning
forward to put another log on the fire and smiling at Henry as he took
it from her to place in the grate.

"The smugglers are long gone from here, Mr Dit ton.  But by all means
let us frighten ourselves with stories if we wish to be Gothic!"

Tristan Dit ton looked put out by such determined common sense.

"Alternatively," Lady Belling ham beamed, 'we could have crumpets and
hot chocolate before we retire!  Gaston!  " She rang the bell
vigorously.

"Some refreshments, please!"

It was strange, Polly thought, how the room seemed to brighten and the
atmosphere lift with Lady Bel- ling ham's words.  Her ladyship was now
telling an enthralled Hetty about some of her experiences at Drury Lane
Theatre.

 "You should have seen me in The Country Girl, my dear, one of my
greatest triumphs!  Why, it was an innocent version of that old
Restoration romp.

The Country Wife, but to tell the truth I always preferred the bawdier
version!  I was perfect for the part, so natural and un spoilt, for I
was a country girl myself, you see, and only nineteen years of age at
the time!

Ah, what a time it was!  " Arid she shook her head reminiscently.

Polly tried to imagine Lady Belling ham as a country girl of nineteen
and failed sadly.  There was something so world-weary and disillusioned
about Lady Belling ham, though that was not to say that she had lost
her natural kindness.  Polly was conscious, as she had been when
speaking to Lucille, of the sheltered nature of her own upbringing, in
comparison to those who had had to make their own way in the world.
There were precious few similarities between the former actress and the
current Countess of Sea grave, but one was that they had made their own
luck, not been born with all the privileges like Polly had.  Somehow it
made her feel inadequate as well as fortunate.

Polly, returning to the turret bedroom she had used earlier, found the
bed neatly turned down and a small fire burning in the grate.  It
looked warm and welcoming, but she could hear the thunder away out at
sea and shivered.  As soon as she was alone, all her nervousness had
returned.  On such a night it was all too easy to think of the miles of
thick forest that cut them off from the town, the dense, secretive
trees, the storm clouds harrying the moon.

The bright beauty of the day had gone and the stark loneliness of the
place created an eerie atmosphere.

There was a door in the corner of the bedroom, which Polly assumed
must be the turret stair.  Feeling rather foolish, she went across and
checked that it was locked.  There was no key on her side of the door,
but the door did not move at all when she turned the knob.

Satisfied, she climbed into the downy bed, convinced she would not
sleep a wink.

Surprisingly, she fell asleep almost at once, to wake in the middle of
the night with a feeling of suffocating uneasiness.  The fire had gone
out and the wind was pounding the corner of the house, whistling
through the cracks in the windowpane.  Out on the landing, a floorboard
creaked.  Polly stiffened, listening for footsteps.  A sliver of light
appeared at the bottom of the door, flickered and went out.  Another
board creaked.

Polly slid out of bed and opened her door a crack.  She was conscious
of a need to establish normality, certain that she would see nothing
more than a servant tiptoeing about his or her business whilst the rest
of the house slept.

There was no one on the landing.  Then she heard the voices.

"Not tonight, at any rate... Yes, certain... He was looking around
earlier, but... No, no question of it.  They will not risk coming in
and the tide is already on the turn..."

Polly edged to the bannister and peeped over.  The hall was lit with
dim candlelight, deeply shadowed.  Lord Henry March night was standing
in the drawing- room doorway, brushing cobwebs from his clothes.  He
was fully dressed.

Lady Belling ham, in the centre of the hall, was clad in a
dressing-gown of glossy, bright hue and formidable respectability.
Polly rejected her first reaction that this was an illicit lovers'
tryst; it was ridiculous to assume an affaire between them, even given
her ladyship's preference for attractive young men.  There was
something too watchful in Henry's manner and too businesslike in Lady
Belling ham's.  The grandfather clock chimed one suddenly and Polly
jumped.  Henry, who had been turning to close the drawing room door,
paused and his narrowed gaze scanned the landing.

Polly's heart was in her throat.  Would he see her in the shadows of
the pillar?  And what would he do?  What was his business, on such a
stormy night?  Suddenly she did not wish to know.

Lady Belling ham was yawning much in the manner of Horace the cat.

"I'm for bed, then," she announced, patting Henry on the arm.

"I am too old for all this excitement!"

Polly withdrew hastily to her room, closing the door softly as Lady
Belling ham started up the stairs.  She slid into bed, shivering a
little.

Not a tryst then, so.  what?  A business transaction?  But what could
be so secret as to require so clandestine a meeting in the middle of
the night?

And what was it that Henry had said?  Polly stretched out in the
warmth, still puzzling.  She remembered seeing Henry poking about on
the beach earlier in the day and his mention of a secret passage
linking the House of Tides to the sea.  But.  surely he was no
smuggler, and what other purpose could he have for using such a
route?

All Polly's previous suspicions came flooding back.  He had been
conveniently to hand to rescue them from the riot in London.  Too
conveniently, perhaps?

He had carried a pistol when he had apparently been returning home from
a ball.  He was a man who habitually concealed his sharpness of mind
beneath a bland exterior.  And now he was up and about on a stormy
night by the sea.

But Polly's common sense was telling her that allegations of
criminality were absurd, and something deeper told her fiercely that
Henry was a man of integrity.  Besides, there was Lady Belling ham's
part in this.  As smuggler's accomplice?  The thought made Polly want
to laugh.

She was just about to drift back into sleep when there was a tiny click
and the door of Polly's room opened a crack.  Through a gap in the bed
curtains she saw the faint light increase as the door was pushed
wider.

Someone was standing in the aperture, listening.  Polly froze.  She
leant out of bed and groped quickly and silently for something,
anything to defend herself with.  Her hand closed around the edge of
the chamber pot.  Without conscious thought, she ripped the bed
curtains back and swung her arm in a wide arc.  The pot made contact
with something, there was a muffled gasp from the intruder, and Polly
began to scream.

There was light and people everywhere, all of them talking at once.
Polly could see Hetty's frightened face and Miss Dit ton hovering
behind her, avid and curious.  Then Lady Belling ham came bustling
forward in a monstrous bed cap and the vivid dressing- gown, and
candlelight fell on the prone body of Mr Dit ton, lying on the rug just
inside Polly's doorway, clutching his head and groaning.

"Dit ton!"

"Tristan!"

Peter Sea grave's exclamation and Miss Dit ton's screech of horror
coincided.

 His jaw set, Peter plucked the luckless Mr Dit ton off the floor and
started to shake him.

"What the hell are you doing in my sister's bedroom, you loathsome
cur?"

Miss Dit ton began to cry noisily.  Hetty rushed forward anxiously to
ask if Polly was hurt.  Polly sat down rather heavily on the edge of
the bed, supported by Lady Belling ham's arm.

"I am quite well, I thank you, just a little shaken..."

Hetty was now trying to persuade Peter to let Tristan Dit ton go,
whilst Thalia was clinging to her brother's arm and pulling him in an
opposite direction from Peter.  Polly felt they might almost pull him
apart between them.

"Oh, please let him go--' she started to say, only to find that control
of the situation had been grasped firmly by Lord Henry March night.

"A simple misunderstanding, I feel sure, Sea grave.  I am persuaded
that you would not wish to inflict any further injuries to Dit ton's
person!  Why, his elegant night attire is quite ruined, I fancy!"

No one except Polly seemed to find it odd that Lord Henry's major
concern should be for Mr Dit ton's clothing, for they were all quite
used to his preoccupation with sartorial matters.  Dit ton, released
from Peter's cruel grip, drew himself up and exclaimed that the state
of his silk dressing-gown was truly disgraceful, but not so shocking as
the state of his nerves after an unwarranted attack.

Henry's ironic gaze then fell on Polly, still clasped within Lady
Belling ham's protective arm.

"Not really unwarranted, Dit ton," he drawled.

"Sea- grave did what any right-minded brother would do under the
circumstances!  Have you forgotten the agitation occasioned to Lady
Polly at finding you in her room?  An apology at least, dear
fellow..."

Dit ton, recalled to the demands of good behaviour, gulped a little,
his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Dear Lady Polly... of course... such a terrible mistake.  I was
looking for the closet and became quite lost in the dark ... oh, dear,
I am most abjectly sorry..."

"No harm done, eh, Dit ton?"  Henry observed, mercifully putting an end
to this miserable monologue.  "Except perhaps, to your head!"

The tension began to dissolve.  Miss Dit ton gulped noisily.

"Oh, Tristan, how could you be so foolish...?"

"Lady Polly... terrible mistake... abject apologies..."  Mr Dit ton was
still stuttering.  He was still looking a little stunned from Peter's
treatment, his thin, foxy face a sickly pale colour and his grey eyes
darting fearfully.

He put a hand to his head.

"Excuse me... Must retire..."

He wandered off along the landing, silk dressing- gown napping, and
Lady Belling ham started to shoo the others out of the room with a
mixture of clucking and scolding.

"Come along, now!  Back to your beds, all of you!  Conchita!"  She
clapped her hands and the maid appeared apparently from nowhere, "Show
these ladies back to their rooms!  Good night!"

Peter and Hetty were disposed to linger until Polly reassured them with
a pale smile.

"Truly, I am not hurt, only a little shocked.  Oh, thank you, ma'am--'
She accepted a glass of brandy from Lady Belling ham, then looked at it
dubiously.  " Must I indeed drink this?  " For the shock, my dear,"
Lady Belling ham counselled.

"It will help you sleep."

The grandfather clock chimed two.

The drink was very pungent and burned its way down Polly's throat.

"Poor Mr Dit ton!"  She started to laugh.

"I imagine I gave him far more of a fright than he did me!"

"You were remarkably accurate with that chamber pot, my dear," Lady
Belling ham observed.

"One scarce knows whether to be grateful or otherwise that it was
empty!"

It was only later, when Lady Belling ham had left her and the house had
settled down once more into quiet, that Polly curled up and wondered
how Lord Henry had managed to appear in his night attire.  Only minutes
earlier she had seen him in the hall, fully dressed.

She was about to fall asleep for a third time that evening when she
remembered the corner door.  Some instinct prompted her to check that
it was locked, although she had no reason to suppose otherwise.  She
dragged herself out of the bed again into the cold room.  She shivered
as she crossed the floor and turned the knob.  The door swung smoothly
open without a sound and the dark stair gaped below.

Chapter Twelve QsrQ All sleepiness fled from Polly's mind.  The door,
which had been locked when she went to bed, was now standing open.  A
faint draught, scented with sea salt, wafted into the room and the
darkness yawned below.  For a moment she stared, unbelieving, down the
dark stair, then she slammed the door shut as though she almost
expected an intruder to appear before her eyes.  There was a heavy oak
armchair in a corner of the room, and Polly made haste to drag it
across in front of the turret door, barricading herself in as best she
could.  The silence of the House of Tides seemed to spread around her.
There was no step on the stair, no turning of the knob, but it was a
long time before Polly returned to bed and even longer before she
slept.

"You look fagged to death, poor child," Lady Bel- ling ham said next
morning, 'and no wonder!  What a night of al arums and excursions!  "
She had brought Polly's breakfast tray herself and now moved forward to
draw back the curtains, letting in the bright sunlight and swathe of
blue, rain washed sky.  Her dark, thoughtful gaze lingered on the
heavy wooden chair which was still in place squarely against the
door.

"Lady Belling ham," Polly said directly, 'do you know where the key is
for that door?  " For a moment she thought that her ladyship looked
distinctly furtive.

"The key?  Is it not in the door, my love?  I must confess I have hot
seen it this age, for we seldom use this room."

"The door was locked when I went to bed," Polly said, feeling a little
foolish at airing her suspicions in the bright light of day, 'but it
was open in the middle of the night!  I cannot understand it!  " Lady
Belling ham's eyes seemed to hold a secret amusement.

"Oh, no, my dear, I am sure you must be mistaken!  The door is always
kept locked!"  And to illustrate her point, she turned the knob and
gave the door a hearty push.  It did not move.

"There now," Lady Belling ham said comfortably.

"I am persuaded that you must have dreamed it, my dear, and no wonder
with all the shocks there were during the night!  Mr Dit ton and his
sister seem in an unaccountable hurry to leave this morning!  But at
least Miss Dit ton will be unable to gossip about last night's
rodomontade, since her own brother was the villain of the piece!  Now,
here is your dress, freshly laundered by Conchita, and you must join us
downstairs only when you are ready!"

After she had gone, Polly slid from the bed and checked the door
herself.

It did not move an inch.  Polly ate her breakfast slowly, puzzling over
the mystery, but she could come up with no explanation and eventually
gave up, choosing instead to sit by the open window and look out at the
fresh, blue day.  The rain had left deep, water-filled ruts in the
track, and Polly was surprised to see a carriage picking its way
carefully through the quagmire.

It paused at the gate, where the Dit tons' coach rattled past it with
rather more speed than was wise, then turned on to the forecourt of the
House of Tides.

Polly hurried down the stairs.  Lord Henry March- night was just coming
into the hall, his hair tousled by the fresh breeze.  Polly eyed him
suspiciously.

He looked remarkably wide awake for someone who had spent the best part
of the night prowling around and, she suspected, up to no good.

"Good morning.  Lady Polly!  I hope you are recovered from the trials
and tribulations of last night!  Sir Godfrey Or bison has just
arrived--no doubt to rescue the susceptible Sea graves from the
clutches of the wicked Lady Belling ham!"

Sir Godfrey's stentorian tones could already be heard haranguing an
impassive Gaston at the door.

"Come to find out what the deuce is going on!  Only arrived at Dilling
ham last night to find Cecil ia Sea- grave in receipt of a dashed odd
message about the whereabouts of her family!  Sea grave has been called
away so I undertook to find out how everyone came to be marooned out
here!  Dashed lonely spot, what!  Dashed odd place to live!"

"Sir Godfrey!"  Polly called, running across the hall and hugging her
godfather.

"How are you, sir?"

"Sharp-set, miss, sharp-set!"  Sir Godfrey said, smiling despite
himself.

"Sent out here on some outlandish wild goose chase before I even had my
breakfast!  What's going on, eh?"

"We were caught in a storm yesterday and had to seek shelter here,"
Polly said, catching his arm and turning him towards the
drawing-room.

"Come, I must introduce you to Lady Belling ham, who was kind enough to
rescue us!"

"No need, my dear.  Sir Godfrey and I are old acquaintances!"

The drawing-room door had been thrown open with a nourish worthy of a
great melodrama.  Lady Bel- ling ham, resplendent in a sapphire gown
and diaphanous scarves, wafted forward.

"Godfrey!"  she said in throbbing accents.

"To think that we should meet again after all this time!  You went
away, you wicked man!"

"Bessie!"  Sir Godfrey had dropped Polly's arm as though thunderstruck
and had hastened forward with the speed of a young man.

"My dear Bessie!  You married Another!"

"Only because you had deserted me, you cruel deceiver!"  Lady Belling
ham said, tapping him on the arm with her peacock fan.

"So much time lost!"  Sir Godfrey mourned, enthusiastically kissing her
on both cheeks.

"So much to rediscover!"

Polly's jaw had dropped as she watched this tableau unfold.

"I think we are witnessing a great romance," a voice said in her ear,
'though Lady Belling ham seems uncertain whether this is to be a
tragedy or a comic opera!  " Polly turned to see Lord Henry grinning as
he watched Lady Belling ham steer Sir Godfrey towards the drawing-room,
looking up at him flirtatiously as she went.  The elderly baronet
seemed totally enslaved.

Moreover he was willing, eager, to be swept away.

 "Now that we have found each other again, God- frey," Lady Belling
ham said in throbbing tones, "I insist that you sample my hospitality
for a little!

The children--' she dismissed Polly and Henry with a wave of the fan
'--can amuse themselves for a while!  There is so much for us to talk
on!  " And she shut the door firmly behind them.

"Well!"  Henry said, still smiling.

"It seems Lady Belling ham has found yet another way in which to
scandalise the neighbour hood and Sir Godfrey will be her willing
dupe!"

"Their romance... It seems most unlikely..."  Polly ventured.

"True..."  there was a twinkle in Lord Henry's eyes 'but one must not
consider romance to be the prerogative of the young!  I have no doubt
that those two had a most passionate affair--' "Lord Henry!"

"Still so proper.  Lady Polly?"

"Unlike you, my lord!"

Lord Henry's grin was broad now.

"Perhaps you should hurry back to your chaste maiden bower, Lady
Polly!

Unfortunately, you are unlikely to have Sir Godfrey's escort, and your
brother and Miss Mark- ham are exchanging sweet nothings in the
garden.

So..."

Polly's lips tightened at his teasing.

"Must you always make a mock of things, my lord?"

"On the contrary!"  Henry's gaze was bright on her.  "I consider love
to be a very serious matter!"

"So I have heard!  And seen!  There are those who consider it to be
your only preoccupation, my lord!"

"No, that's too unkind!"  Henry's smile faded and his glance was a
challenge now.

"But you.  Lady Polly--your attitude is a little different, is it not?
You always seem to behave as though there was something shameful about
love, or at the least something shameful about honest emotion.  I
suppose it is the result of so sheltered and restrictive an
upbringing!"

Polly stared at him speechlessly.  It seemed at least five seconds
before she managed to exclaim, "Well upon my word, my lord!  Your
presumption is outrageous!"

Henry's look was a provocation in itself.

"Is that so?  Then tell me your own view of the matter!"

"It is true that I have had a protected upbringing, being the youngest
and the only daughter--' Polly was so indignant that she needed no
second invitation '--but I do not believe that I have suffered as a
result either materially or emotionally!  I consider myself to be a
woman of sense!  I do not know what type of woman you admire, Lord
Henry, but if it is one full of die-away airs and affected sensibility
then I must agree I do not conform to that style!"

"Yet on the surface you appear so prim and conventional," Lord Henry
countered with every evidence of regret.

"One has the impression that any suggestion of strong emotion would
have you recoiling with the va pours!"

"Indeed!"  Polly was now more cross than indignant.  "I do not know how
you have the effrontery to accuse me of a want of feeling!  When we met
in London you behaved like the greatest rake imaginable, and I did not
hear you complaining that I was lacking in my response to you the nV
She broke off and clapped her hand to her mouth, but it was too late.
The words could not be unsaid.

The expression on Henry's face would have silenced her anyway.  There
was amusement there and a dawning warmth, melting into a tenderness
that made her catch her breath.

"You tricked me," she said, and it came out as a whisper.

"I should never have said that..."

"Yes," Henry also spoke softly, "I'll admit I gave in to a perverse
impulse to provoke you, for you sometimes seem so prim and yet I know
you to be different..."

The hot colour flooded Polly's face.  She took an instinctive step
towards him, knowing that in a moment she would be in his arms.

There was a blast of fresh, salty air, then the main door banged in the
breeze and Gaston came forward, clucking with disapproval.

"Morning, Polly!  Morning, March night!"  Peter, smiling with genial
cheer, ushered Hetty into the hall, where Gaston fussed about taking
her scarf and coat.  Peter was chatting easily to the butler and seemed
completely oblivious to the scene before him.  Hetty, her face flushed
pink from the cold air, looked from Polly to Henry and raised her brows
very slightly.

Polly tore her gaze away from Henry's with an effort of will.

"I was just waiting for Sir Godfrey," she said, slightly at random and
to no one in particular.

"He has come to escort us back to Dilling ham, but it seems he is
already acquainted with Lady Belling- ham..."  She gestured vaguely
towards the drawing- room door.

Henry was laughing openly at her obvious confusion and she was both
charmed and annoyed by his teasing.  He seemed suddenly so sure of his
power to disturb her and with masculine arrogance was enjoying it.
Despite Peter and Hetty's arrival, Polly still felt deliriously
flustered and excited.  She knew that Henry would have kissed her if
the others had not come in and she felt out-of-proportion disappointed
to have been denied the experience.

"Are you quite well.  Lady Polly?  You are looking rather flushed.
Perhaps your experiences last night have overset you?"  Henry had taken
her hand, a wicked smile on his face, eyes dancing.

"I hope you are quite well, for it is the De ben yacht race tomorrow
morning and I quite count on your support to help me wrest the cup from
Marcus Fitzgerald!"

"Oh, a race!"  Hetty clapped her hands, eyes shining.  "We shall all be
there to cheer you on.  Lord Henry!"

"There is a luncheon afterwards at the Queen's Head," Henry continued,
'and, of course, in the evening there is your mother's impromptu ball.
A day of uninterrupted pleasure, which is what I like best!  " Polly
gave him a repressive look which he met with one of limpid innocence.

"Shall we see you at the ball then, my lord?"  she asked demurely,
trying to withdraw her hand from his.

Henry did not release her.  Instead he raised her hand to his lips and
pressed a lingering kiss on it.  "Certainly you shall.  I hope you will
save a dance for me, Lady Polly!"

"I should be delighted, sir."  Polly cast him a look under her lashes.
He was still smiling in that slightly challenging way, and for a moment
her heart skipped a beat through sheer anticipation.

"Until tomorrow then, my lady," Henry murmured, letting her go at
last.

"I

should be on my way to Fen- church, I suppose.  Your servant, ma'am.
Miss Mark- ham .  Peter.  " "Oh."  Hetty sighed soulfully, as they
watched his tall figure stroll away towards the stables.

"Oh, Polly, he really is so very charming..."

The drawing-room door opened and Lady Belling- ham came out, deep in
conversation with Sir Godfrey.

'put up for the night at Famforth," Sir Godfrey was saying, 'at the
Rose and Crown.  Not a bad hostelry, but a little overcrowded..."

Polly was still gazing after Lord Henry's retreating figure, but spun
around at a faint noise from Hetty.  The other girl had gone chalk
white, her hands to her breast as though pierced by an arrow.

"Gaston!  A chair for Miss Mark ham!"  Lady Bel- ling ham, hearing
Polly's exclamation of concern, had hurried forward to take control of
the situation.

"Con- chita!  My hart shorn!  There now, my dear..."  With infinite
gentleness she helped Peter ease Hetty into the chair.

"Have no fear, you will feel better directly..."

Hetty was drooping like a cut flower.  She was still alarmingly pale,
but her eyelids fluttered.  Peter, kneeling beside her, was the picture
of concern.

"The heat..."  Lady Belling ham was saying excusingly, although it was
still early and a very fresh day, 'and the wedding preparations no
doubt.  You must take care not to overtax yourself, my dear!  " "Yes,
ma'am," Hetty said submissively, and Polly saw a tear slide from the
corner of her eye and make a trail down her pale cheek.  For a moment
Polly had the horrible thought that Hetty might not wish to marry Peter
and that that was what was making her so unhappy.  Yet Hetty was gazing
at Peter with the concentrated regard that was surely a sign of love
rather than dislike, and was clutching his hand as though her life
depended on it.  And there had been nothing in their behaviour to
suggest anything other than they were both pleased to be marrying so
soon.  Polly frowned.  She had discussed Hetty's strange behaviour with
Lucille, but neither of them could understand why Miss Mark ham,
normally so ebullient, had become so tense and woebegone.

She was not ill.  She should have been happier than ever before in her
life.

It made no sense.

Hetty was struggling to get to her feet, a little colour coming back
into her face.

"I am so sorry... I cannot imagine what is the matter."

She saw Lady Belling ham looking at her with thoughtful concern and
looked as though she was about to burst into tears.  She scrubbed
viciously at her eyes.

"We had better start for home.  Lady B.," Peter said hastily, a
protective arm around his betrothed.

"It will be best for Hetty to rest.  Shall we see you at the ball
tomorrow?"

The atmosphere lightened as Sir Godfrey added his pressing
persuasions.

"Dear lady, of course you must be there!  You will be the belle of the
ball, putting all others in the shade!"

Lady Belling ham acceded graciously to his invitation and they went out
to the carriage in a flurry of repeated good wishes and invitations.
Peter and Hetty sat very close together on the way home, Hetty's head
against his shoulder, and Sir Godfrey sat in his corner of the carriage
with a ridiculously famous look on his face.  It was clear that he was
dwelling on the delights of renewing his acquaintance with Lady Belling
ham.

 Polly, despite the promise of encountering Lord Henry again the
following day, began to feel decidedly left out.  All the world, it
seemed, was in love, but she was the only one who had no notion where
it was leading.

Chapter Thirteen You are in magnificent looks tonight, Lady Polly.

" It was not Lord Henry March night but Tristan Dit ton who bent close
to Polly's ear, his sharp gaze appraising her with familiarity, his
foxy face wearing an unpleasant smile.

Polly stepped back sharply.  For a man who had retreated ignominiously
only the two nights before, Mr Dit ton seemed in very high spirits.
Indeed, he was positively effusive in his greetings, as though no
matter of embarrassment had ever passed between them.

"Save me a dance for later, fair one," he purred, before moving on into
the ballroom, leaving Polly to puzzle over his strange and unwelcome
behaviour.

The ballroom was filling rapidly as the guests gathered for the Dowager
Countess's impromptu ball.  Sir Godfrey, looking as pleased as a dog
wagging its tail, was escorting Lady Belling ham.  Polly suspected Lady
Belling ham of deliberately playing to the gallery, for she was drawing
a great deal of attention in a dress of rich ruby velvet and some
staggering diamonds.  The Far rants and Fitzgeralds were also out in
force, but Polly's eye was drawn constantly to the door, awaiting the
arrival of Lord Henry March night.

She knew, without the benefit of Mr Dit ton's compliments, that she was
looking her best.  She had brushed her dark hair until the chestnut
lights in it had gleamed with rich colour and the curls tumbled
becomingly about her face.  Knowing that pastel colours, the favourite
apparel of the debutante, could make her look sallow, Polly had chosen
a dress of eau-de-nil.  The style was appropriately modest, but the cut
flattered her neat figure and the material whispered softly as she
walked.

The orchestra struck up for the first dance and Peter swept Hetty on to
the floor, opening the dancing since Nicholas had chosen to sit out
with Lucille.

Hetty appeared to have recovered her spirits and was almost as
vivacious as Polly remembered.  Sir Godfrey and Lady Belling ham
followed them onto the floor with barely concealed eagerness.  There
was less formality than at the London routs and balls, but the company
was elegant nevertheless and, more importantly, was enjoying itself
with gusto.  Seeing Mr Dit ton approaching her purposefully, Polly
caught the eye of Charles Far rant, who had also been watching the door
covertly for the arrival of the March nights.  Charles could take a
hint, and stepped forward to claim Polly's hand before Tristan Dit ton
could reach her.

"Mr Sea grave and Miss Mark ham make a very handsome couple," Polly
heard Mrs Fitzgerald remark to her partner, further down the set.

"I am so glad that match is to be made soon..."

As Charles Far rant swung Polly round, she caught sight of Tristan Dit
ton once more.  He seemed to be ubiquitous.  But this time Mr Dit ton's
attention was not on Polly, for he too was watching Hetty Mark ham
with a peculiar, brooding intensity.  A sudden shiver ran down Polly's
spine.  There was such a malevolent look on Dit ton's face that it
disturbed her.

A moment later, she forgot all about it.  Lord Henry March night was
ushering his mother and sister into the ballroom, apologising
graciously to the Dowager Countess for their late arrival.  The light
from the chandeliers gleamed on his carefully dishevelled fair hair and
she caught her breath at the stark elegance of his evening attire. Then
Henry turned and their eyes met across the room.  Polly felt her pulse
flutter as he held her gaze.

The dance concluded and Charles, who had also seen the March nights
arrive, escorted Polly to Lucille's side, and hovered, looking
hopefully across the room at Lady Laura.  Polly tried not to laugh.
Charles had the same eager look on his face as Sir Godfrey, as he
contemplated the object of his affections.  She hoped that the Duchess
would allow her vigilance to slip and give Charles and Laura a little
time together.

"Come and sit by me, Charles," Lucille said, taking pity on him and
clearly thinking along the same lines.  "I shall call Lady Laura over
in a little while, when the Duchess's attention is distracted!"

Polly danced the next with John Fitzgerald and Nicholas Sea grave
persuaded a blushing Lady Laura to join him on the dance floor.  The
Duchess beamed her approval.  Sir Godfrey and Lady Belling ham were
scandal ising the guests by dancing every dance together, more
amorously entwined than any younger couple.  Several people looked
horrified at this display, but Polly rather suspected that Lady Belling
ham was deliberately putting on a show.  Miss Dit ton and Mr Bunion
looked decidedly more gloomy as they circled the floor together.

"Do you return to London for the Little Season?"  Polly asked Laura
neutrally, when the dance ended and they found themselves together in
the group around Lucille.  She knew that the younger girl was feeling
some constraint in her presence, no doubt arising from the fiasco at
the Fair, and she was anxious to break the ice.

Laura shook her fair head.

"No, indeed, for Mama is making arrangements to send me away!"  She bit
her lip.

"Dear Lady Polly, I am so sorry for the way I have behaved towards you
at Cold Hollow--' Polly put her hand on Laura's arm.  It was hardly the
place for heartfelt apologies, but Laura was certainly sincere.  She
was looking positively miserable.

"Say no more of it," she said decisively, with a warm smile to show
that she bore no grudge.  She raised her voice a little to attract
Charles Far rant's attention.

"So you are to leave us.  Lady Laura?  I am so sorry!  Where do you
go?"

"Mama has decided that it would be good for me to visit my sister.
Lizzie Ellerbeck, in Northumberland," Laura said, glancing through her
lashes at Charles Far rant.

"I wish that it were not so, but Mama is adamant that Lizzie requires
company.  She is increasing, you know, and no doubt Northumberland is a
strange and lonely place to be all alone in Ellerbeck's medieval
castle!"

"How Gothic!"  Lucille commented, with a smile.  "You must make the
most of your time amongst us then.  Lady Laura, and dance every dance!
Mr Far rant..."

 Charles Far rant cleared his throat.

"Er, yes, indeed... Lady Laura... if you would grant me the
honour..."

"An awkward suitor," Lucille said with a smile as she watched them go,
'but an honest one for all that!  I do so hope that the Duchess will
relent!

Laura could do much worse.  " "Playing Cupid, Lady Sea grave?"

Extraordinarily, Polly had missed Lord Henry's approach, so absorbed
had she been in the romance of Lady Laura and Charles Far rant. Lucille
had the grace to blush.

"Oh, Lord Henry!  Perhaps we should not encourage them, but it seems
such a pity for their hopes to be dashed..."

Henry grinned.

"Romance is most decidedly in the air tonight, is it not?"

He turned to Polly as though he had more pressing matters on his mind
than his sister's future.  The gravity of his salutation was belied by
the wicked twinkle in his eyes and she felt the same breathless sense
of anticipation that had come over her at the House of Tides.

"Dance with me," Henry said softly, persuasively, taking Polly's gloved
hand and pulling her to her feet.

Lucille caught her husband's eye and smiled.  "Some of the company seem
to have no need of Cupid's help," she observed lightly.

Polly was feeling the same melting excitement that had possessed her
when she saw Henry enter the ballroom, but this time his proximity
intensified the feeling.  He drew her into his arms as the waltz struck
up.  She could not tear her gaze away from his, from that grave but
concentrated expression in his eyes as he considered her face upturned
to his.  They did not speak throughout the dance, yet Polly was sharply
aware of him all the time.  The touch of his hand on hers, the brush of
his body against hers gave her an acute physical consciousness of him.
Polly was caught in so potent a spell she had no wish to break it.

When the dance ended.  Henry did not escort her back to Lucille's side
but to a love-seat in an alcove.

"Are you enjoying your day of uninterrupted pleasure, sir?"  Polly
asked lightly, smiling at him as she sat down.

"I have not yet had the opportunity to congratulate you on your second
place in the race today!  I hope you were not too disappointed to
secede the cup to Mr Fitzgerald!"

Henry laughed.

"I have to concede to the better sailor!  It's true I was
disappointed--one is always aiming for the prize."

There was something meaningful in his gaze that made the colour come
into Polly's cheeks.  She hoped he thought her a prize worth winning.

"I was also disappointed that you were not able to join us for
luncheon,"

Henry said, after a moment.

"I understand that the Dowager Countess does not approve of the Queen's
Head?"

Polly laughed.

"No, indeed!  We tried to persuade her that it is a respectable
hostelry but I think she feels it is little better than an alehouse!
But we did enjoy watching the race.  It was a very beautiful day."

"Everybody seems most glad that the amusement is continuing here
tonight,"

Henry said, looking about with a smile, 'but then the Dowager
Countess's entertainments are renowned!  " For a moment Polly thought
of Mr Dit ton, the only person present who did not appear to be
enjoying the evening.  She almost told Henry about Dit ton's curious
malevolence when he was watching Hetty and his peculiar familiarity
with her, but then she dismissed the thought.  Mr Dit ton's foibles
were nothing to do with her after all.

"I hope," Lord Henry said, turning back to her with a lazy smile, 'that
you have recovered from the events of the night at the House of Tides.
It must have been a most disturbing experience for you.  " "Finding Mr
Dit ton creeping into my bedroom in the dark was indeed unpleasant,"
Polly agreed tartly.

"There were other events that night, however, that I found equally
disturbing!"

Henry's lips twitched.

"Indeed!  Whatever could those have been?"

"A door that was locked which mysteriously became open before locking
itself again," Polly said coolly, 'and a meeting I witnessed between
yourself and Lady Belling ham which led me to believe that both of you
were engaged in the business of smuggling!  " There was a silence
whilst the dancers spun before them and the strains of the music swept
on.

"Three curious events in one evening," Henry said thoughtfully.

"Yes, and those were only the three I witnessed!  Who is to say that
there were not more!"

Polly saw the flash of amused appreciation in Henry's eyes.

"You have suspected me for a long time, I think," he said easily.

"A

smuggler, a malcontent, a rabble- rouser, the rich patron of a
dangerous criminal, perhaps.  What extraordinary deeds you have
credited me with.

Lady Polly!  I wonder that you dare be alone with me!  " "We are not
alone," Polly pointed out, still cool.

"We were when I came up the turret stair the night before last and
unlocked the door into your bedroom!"

Polly bit her lip to prevent the gasp that was almost audible.  She had
sought to provoke him without believing that she would hear answers
such as this.  Her dark eyes kindled.

"I might have known you had the key!

Creeping around in the middle of the night, and into a lady's
bedroom--' "Yes, you have no idea how much I have wanted to be there,"
Henry said smoothly.

"You were fast asleep and looking quite delightful with your hair
tumbled all over the pillow!  I was tempted--' " Lord Henry!  " "Must
you be forever interrupting my most ardent dreams.  Lady Polly?  Alas,
that the reality is far colder than the fantasy!  Or at least--' his
tone dropped '--I used to think so..."

Polly fought to get a grip on matters before they slipped beyond her
control.

"Lord Henry, I believe that you owe me an explanation!  That is the
point at issue, not your fevered imaginings!"

"Well..."  Henry looked around at the crowded ballroom 'it is too busy
here for complicated explanations.  If you will walk a little with me,
I undertake to tell you all you wish to know.  Or almost all," he added
with a whimsical smile.

Polly eyed him with suspicion.

"Truly?"

"Truly!"

"But can you tell me?  Should you?"  Polly suddenly felt uncertain.

"Perhaps I do not wish to know after all--' " Too late," Henry said
laconically, pulling her to her feet.

"You already know too much.  Lady Polly!  A little knowledge is more
dangerous than the whole truth!"

At one end the wide ballroom doors led through to the winter garden,
with its palm trees and warm, ferny twilight.  They strolled slowly
along the tiled path.

"Where to start?"  Henry said thoughtfully.

"I suppose the beginning is in London, with the arrest of Chapman at
the gunsmith's and his subsequent escape.  As you know, he is a
dangerous malcontent and one of the most wanted men in the country.  He
has undoubted gifts of oratory and can stir up the populace to riot and
revolt.  He uses other men's discontent for his own ends, for he has no
real interest in improving the lot of the common man.  He has planned
and executed more robberies with violence than I could tell of, and I
have been hunting him down ever since he escaped."

Polly stopped and drew in a sharp breath.

"Then you mean that you... You must work for the authorities--for the
government?"

There was an atmosphere of intrigue conjured up by the intimate
darkness and the watchful stillness of the warm night.  They started to
walk again, very slowly, neither of them paying much attention to their
surroundings.

"Yes, I have worked for the government for the last five years, under
many names and in many guises."  Henry sounded very matter of fact, as
though such an admission was commonplace.

"You mean that you are a spy?"  Polly kept her voice level, finding it
difficult to match his practical tone.  She was astonished.  Her
images and perceptions of him had been plunged into a complete whirl.

"I suppose you could call me that."  There was an element of amusement
now in Henry's voice, although he did not smile.

"I do not care for the word.

It is too.  melodramatic.  I have done all kinds of work--whatever is
required.  In the recent wars I spent some time abroad, in both France
and elsewhere.  I also collected.  " he hesitated 'information from
sources along the south coast."

Polly knew what he meant.  The smugglers who brought in contraband
goods might also have very useful intelligence from the continent, but
the business was dirty and dangerous.  She remembered the times when
Henry had vanished completely from Society, how the gossips and
tattle-merchants always had him conducting some scandalous love affair,
or wasting his patrimony on gambling.

He had covered his tracks well.  And yet the strength and integrity she
had seen in him, the contradiction with his superficial lifestyle had
always puzzled her.  Now it took on new meaning.

"I thought..."  she said hesitantly, 'we all thought that you were
simply.

amusing yourself.  " "Hardly surprising, since that was precisely the
impression I wished to give."  Henry shrugged.

"What better way to convince people that I was interested in little
beyond women, gambling and the set of my neck cloth?

Very few people know the truth of it, and only those I can trust
completely.

" Polly registered the implied compliment with a little glow of
pleasure.

"Then, all through the Season you were intent on finding Chapman?"

"Yes, indeed, at Hamp stead Wells and during the riot and even at the
the Royal Humane Society!  A fine dance he has led me!

And all the time, you were basely suspecting me of being the criminal!
" Polly blushed.

"The riot... I see now why you were carrying the pistols!

But you put your search aside to rescue us, which surely you should not
have done--' There was a harsh note in Henry's voice.

"Do you think I could possibly have left you there unaided?  Why do you
think I intervened?"

Polly did not answer.  She could feel the tension between them now and
turned aside from the question.  It felt too soon to consider it.

"But Chapman is not taken yet and you are here in Wood bridge..."  Her
eyes widened at the implication.  "No, it cannot be that he is he reV
She cast a swift look through the glass door to where the couples still
swirled around the dance floor, as if expecting the felon to declare
himself.

Henry took her arm in a comforting grasp.

"No, he is not here, not tonight.  But your deduction is as faultless
as ever.  Lady Polly!  Chapman is close by and others I seek are closer
still.

You will do well to be vigilant until the matter is finally resolved! "
"I suppose your midnight foray at the House of Tides is all a piece
with this," Polly said a little dazedly.  She sat down on the cushioned
bench by the ornamental pool and watched the candlelight reflected in
the cool water.

"The turret door in my bedroom at the House of Tides led down to the
cellars and no doubt to the sea..."

"Yes."  Henry shifted slightly on the bench beside her.

"There are indeed compensations to my work, ma'am!"

 "Outrageous!  It mattered not one whit that I was asleep in there, I
suppose!"

"It certainly made the business more enjoyable!"

Polly refused to let her attention be diverted by this.

"Why have you told me all this?"  she asked.

Henry's amusement faded.  He looked at her.  There was such a clear,
innocent look in her eyes.  He knew he should lie to her, but he could
not.

This was important.

"For lots of reasons," he said, as lightly as he could.  "Maybe I did
not wish you to have such a low opinion of me any more!  You suspected
much already, but I wanted you to know the truth.  It mattered to
me."

Polly could tell that he was utterly sincere.  There was none of the
teasing mockery that had been present a moment before.  She could sense
the tension latent in him as he sat, not touching her, but very close.
His face was still in shadow.

Polly got up and moved across to the window, looking out across the
silent gardens to the lake shimmering in the silver moonlight.  His
honesty had prompted her to say something herself, something that she
had always wanted to tell him but had always held back.

"When you said to me--that night at Lady Phillips's rid otto--that I
had played my part in making you what you had become, then I thought--'
She broke off.

"I had not really thought of it that way before, but I suppose my
rejection of your suit five years ago must have had its effect on your
actions.  I am sorry, so very sorry, that I ever refused you.  Matters
could have been so very different--' Her voice broke on a sob.

"It was very wrong of me to attribute any blame to you," Henry said
swiftly.  He had moved until she could sense he was very close behind
her.

"I must take the responsibility for my own behaviour.  I did not choose
this path simply because you refused my proposal of marriage five years
ago.

There were many factors that influenced that decision, of which only
one was seeing the reversal of my hopes of a life with you."

Polly studied his reflection in the glass behind her.  He was so close
that she could feel the warmth emanating from his body, a contrast to
the cold draught from the window and the emotion which was making her
shiver a little.

"When you asked me to run away with you I was too immature to cope with
the situation," she said slowly.

"I did not really understand what love meant.  Oh--' she made a slight
gesture '--I thought I loved you and it was all very girlish and
romantic, but the depth of feeling that would have given me the
strength to go with you was lacking.  I have thought about it so
often... About what might have been had I had the courage to accept...
I wish... I wish so much--' Henry put his hand on her arm.

"Lady Polly.  Do not.  Sometimes it is not good to be so honest.
Sometimes it can only be painful..."

Polly swung round to face him.  Her eyes were bright with emotion and
the chestnut hair curled about her flushed face.  Henry found himself
wanting to kiss her very much, not with the calculated seduction of
that night at Lady Phillips's ball, but with such genuine passion that
it shocked him.

"I know now," he said, a rough edge to his voice, 'that I
miscalculated when I thought you incapable of deep feeling.  I was
wrong.  " Polly's mouth was just below his own.  It was easy to put a
hand to her cheek, then tilt up her chin so that their lips met,
tentatively at first, then with a sudden flood of desire that
threatened to carry then away.  All the suppressed emotion and tension
of their encounter was suddenly in the kiss, as Polly's lips parted in
surprise and swift acquiescence and her arms slid around his neck to
draw him closer.  Henry knew a second's hesitation before he allowed
himself to let caution go.  Polly knew no such moment of doubt.  She
had been aware of the feeling building between them, the thoughts and
emotions unspoken, the dizzy sense of awareness and anticipation.  When
he touched her, the love and expectancy had fused into one overwhelming
need.

She pressed closer, pliant against him, and Henry moved to draw her
closer.

When he would have drawn back, Polly pulled him closer still, tangling
her hands in his hair so that she could bring his mouth down to hers
again.

Henry held her away from him, pressing a kiss against her hair,
breathing hard.

"Seldom have I made such a mistake," he said, the rueful amusement
audible in his slightly shaken tone.  "Polly..."

Pressed close in his arms, feeling the thud of his heart against hers,
knowing instinctively just how difficult it was for him to let her go,
Polly had no incentive to help him.  She wanted to show him just how
far he had misjudged her.  All the years of restraint could be
unlearned very easily.

She slid her hands under his jacket, relishing the hard strength of his
body under her fingers, and when she heard Henry catch his breath on a
groan, she raised her lips to his again.

Henry spun her round so that she was trapped against the wall.  Polly
could feel the cold through the thin silk of her gown but was barely
aware of it.

All her senses were concentrated on the heat of the sensuality between
them.

She wanted it to sweep her away.  The explicit demand of the kiss eased
into gentleness, then Henry's lips left hers to trace the delicate
lines of her throat, to tease and caress the sensitive skin and rain
kisses on her upturned face.

"Polly..."  he spoke between kisses 'this has to stop.  We cannot. This
is neither the time nor the place.  Until this business is over I am
not free.  " Polly opened her eyes with reluctance.  She felt
intoxicated with kissing, aching with a need that could not be
appeased.  She understood that it had taken a tremendous effort of will
on Henry's part to let her go, that he felt as shaken as she did.  Nor
could she misunderstand his last words.  He intended to woo her
properly when he could, to make a declaration.  Her eyes lit up like
dark stars and Henry smiled gently.

"I love you," he said softly, 'and you may believe me when I say that I
have never said that to anyone but you.  " Chapter Fourteen QzrsQ
-Despite his good resolutions, it was a considerable time before Henry
let Polly go, whispering to her that she should go back into the
ballroom as unobtrusively as possible and that he would follow as soon
as he was able.  Polly, dazed with kisses and happiness, almost floated
into the room, convinced that everyone would immediately notice that
something was different.  No one seemed to do so, however.  The supper
dance was in progress.  Lucille was still surrounded by a circle of
family and friends at one end of the ballroom and looked up only
briefly as her sister-inlaw wafted past.  Hetty and Peter were sitting
together in an alcove, their heads bent very close together, their
words and smiles for each other alone.  Lady Belling ham and Sir
Godfrey Or bison were still dancing together.  Polly had paused when
her arm was unexpectedly seized from behind.

"Lady Polly," Tristan Dit ton hissed in her ear, "I must have speech
with you.  Immediately!"

Some of Polly's euphoria faded as she looked into Mr Dit ton's thin,
secretive face.  It was all she could do to avoid shuddering.  Once
again, his look ap praised her in the most unpleasant manner.  Polly,
fresh from the enchantment of Henry's kisses, found Dit ton's behaviour
deeply repellent.

"Perhaps some other time, sir," she began, as courteously as she was
able.

"I was about to rejoin my mother--' " The Dowager Countess may spare
you for a moment, I am sure," Dit ton said insinuatingly.

"There is a matter of supreme importance which we must discuss.  I have
been thinking of it ever since that distressing episode at the House of
Tides and I feel it my honour and duty to offer you the protection of
my name!"

Polly almost gaped at him.  Henry's words of love were still in her
mind and it was nearly impossible to accept that Tristan Dit ton had
just made her an offer of marriage.  And yet he seemed quite serious.
He drew her aside from the other couples who were jostling them as they
made for the supper room, and in a moment they were in the deserted and
dimly lit hall.

Polly struggled with her feeling of unreality.

"You do me great honour, sir," she said politely, 'but there is no
need.

Everyone knows of the incident and realises it was entirely innocent. "
In the darkness she thought she saw Dit ton smile.

"I had been led to believe that you were so proper a lady, so careful
for your reputation, that you would not refuse me.  Lady Polly!  Was I
then mistaken?"

Polly felt her temper rise at the insinuation that she had been in any
way to blame.

"I am sure that my reputation is as good as that of any lady,"

she said coldly, 'but I feel no need to protect it from so imaginary a
threat!  It was a generous offer, sir, but I must refuse.  " Through
the open ballroom doors she saw the Dowager Countess pass on her way
to supper and took a step forward.

Tristan Dit ton put a restraining hand on her arm.  A servant,
scurrying across the darkened hall, gave them a curious look.

Polly's patience snapped.

"What is all this about, sir?  I have already said--' Tristan Dit ton
put his thin face very close to hers.

"It is about a young lady who is not as careful of her reputation as
you are of yours.  Lady Polly!  How do you think your brother would
feel were he to discover that the lady he desires to marry has already
been free with her favours?  That Lord Edmund Grant- ley was before
him?"

Polly recoiled a step in disgust, staring at him in disbelief.

"You are loathsome, sir!  How dare you insinuate?"

"It is no insinuation."  Dit ton spoke with satisfied certainty.

"I have heard the whole tale--that they were alone at the inn, that
Grantley was boasting of deflowering Miss Mark ham, and that the
innkeeper confirmed the next day that Grantley had succeeded!  She had
been with him all night!

And if you do not agree to our betrothal.  Lady Polly, I will make sure
that every guest at this ball knows Miss Mark ham's disgrace!"

His eyes were burning with an excitement that sickened Polly.  She was
about to reject his words utterly when the memory of Hetty's arrival at
Dilling ham Court stopped her.  With hideous clarity she remembered
Peter's insistence upon an early wedding and Hetty's distress at the
Dowager Countess's objections.  Hetty, whose natural liveliness had
been tempered by a mysterious unhappiness.  Could it be true?  Perhaps
Peter knew and was trying to protect his betrothed the only way he
could?  Even worse, then, if he was prepared to make that sacrifice,
for Mr Dit ton to expose the truth before such a multitude.

Polly froze as an even more hideous thought occurred to her.  What if
Hetty were expecting a child?  Her faint the previous day was now very
suggestive of more than simple wedding nerves and exhaustion.  How
horrible would be her disgrace if it were true!  The thought took a lot
of the strength from Polly's response.

"You disgust me, sir!  You wish me to consent to a betrothal on the
grounds that you will denounce Miss Mark ham if I do not?  You must be
mad!"

"Not so!"  Tristan Dit ton caught Polly's arm in a cruel grip.

"You will do as I ask, Lady Polly.  Think of Miss Mark ham's dishonour,
think of your brother's anger and disgust!  And think of all these
prurient gossips who will turn it into the biggest scandal in years!
You cannot refuse me!"

"I cannot even believe it!  You must be mistaken, or lying..."  But
Polly knew that her response lacked conviction and she saw Dit ton
smile.

"I have witnesses who can prove Miss Mark ham was at the Rose and Crown
that night!  She would crumble under the first accusation!  Aye, and
all the world would be there to see it!"

Polly's breath caught in her throat with the shame and horror of it.
She could not think clearly.  She knew she must be mad to even think of
agreeing, but Dit- ton's hand was like a claw on her arm, his eyes
buming into hers.

Madness!  She could not throw away her own future because of Hetty's
behaviour.  Then, through the open door she saw them, Peter smiling
down into Hetty's face with such love, his hand covering hers as it lay
on his arm.

Polly remembered his unhappiness over the broken betrothal, how he had
made a fool of himself with Lady Bolt, how he had got drunk through his
misery on hearing the false news of Hetty's betrothal to Grantley.

"I am at the point where I need a rich wife," Dit ton was saying
conversationally, only heightening the horror of it all, 'and you are
both rich and well connected.  I could never aspire to marry an Earl's
daughter under other circumstances.  Come, my dear, we could make a
good match of it!

What do you say?  " There were a hundred people at the ball, Polly
thought with dread.  If Dit ton were to announce Hetty's downfall
before them all, the effect would be too devastating to contemplate. If
she could only buy some time, prevent the disclosure.  She need never
go through with it and she would be able to talk to someone, sort it
all out, explain.  Polly's mind was a whirl of thoughts and images.
Henry's face was before her, the scene between them in the conservatory
suddenly so distant it seemed almost imagined.  Or was this the
unreality?  Dit ton was like a coiled spring, unpredictable,
unstable.

"Very well," she said weakly, and heard his breath hiss with
satisfaction, 'but the betrothal must be kept a secret until I have had
chance to tell my family--' It had been a gamble and it showed at once
how far she had underestimated him.

"A secret!"  Dit ton exclaimed gaily.

"No such thing!  I want to shout it from the rooftops!"  He had grasped
her hand and was drawing her with hideous inevitability towards the
supper room, where the chink of china and buzz of voices could be
heard.  Polly hung back, suddenly terrified.

 "Oh, no!  You cannot!  I did not intend... We must wait--' But her
words fell on deaf ears.

"Come, come, my dear, do you think I shall give you the chance to cry
off!

Credit me with a little sense, I beg of you!  What a sensation this
will be-almost, but not quite, as good as telling the guests of Miss
Mark ham's debauchery!  " Polly gave a faint moan.

"Oh, never fear," Dit ton continued in the same light tone, "I shall
keep my part of the bargain for as long as you keep yours!  And here we
are--ready to break the news!"

A curious silence fell on the room when they entered.  The tables, in
long rows that stretched towards the picture windows at the end, were
laden with a harvest supper and almost full.  At the top table, the
whole Sea grave family were chatting animatedly to the friends and
neighbours around them.  Worse, to their left, the Duchess of March
night, Lady Laura and Lord Henry were enjoying the repast.  Henry's
head had been inclined towards his mother as she expressed some view on
the sweetness of the strawberries.  He looked up as Polly came closer
and the glad light sprang to his eyes, to be banished only slowly as he
saw Tristan Dit ton pulling her forward by the hand.

Dit ton reached the top table and stopped.  He addressed the Earl of
Sea grave.

"Lady Polly has done me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage,"

Tristan Dit ton said with oily complacency.

"She has made me the happiest of men!"

There was absolute silence.  The Dowager Countess put down her
wineglass with a clatter that sent her dessert spoon spinning away.

"Polly?  Engaged to Mr Dit ton?  What nonsense is this?"

Polly felt Tristan Dit ton stiffen beside her.  Afraid of his
instability, convinced that he would suddenly blurt out what he had
just told her, she hastened into speech.

"It is not nonsense.  Mama!  I assure you, I have consented to marry Mr
Dit ton.  After all, we have known each other all our lives, and I
esteem him greatly--' She broke off as she saw the look of contemptuous
amusement cross her elder brother's face.  Polly knew that she had
started to rattle on out of nervousness, here in front of all these
people.  And, as yet, Nicholas had said nothing at all.  Beside him,
Lucille's face was a blank mask.

Fortunately, Tristan Dit ton had been the only one convinced by her
words.

He beamed at the assembled group.

"Come, congratulate me on my conquest!"

Nicholas Sea grave stood up.  The look of scorn in his dark eyes was so
swift it was barely noticeable, but Polly saw and understood.  He would
not make a scene in front of his guests, but the reckoning would come
later.

"Thank you for your announcement, Dit ton," Sea- grave said
pleasantly.

"I

shall look forward to having the opportunity to discuss the matter with
my sister and.  " his hesitation was barely perceptible 'her trustee.
Sir Godfrey."

Dit ton's lips curved in a sneer.  Even he was not so thick-skinned to
miss the lack of warmth in the atmosphere.  He turned to Polly, his
hand at her waist, pushing her forwards into the centre of the room.

"Come, my love," he murmured, 'it is time to tell everyone of our
tender romance!  Speak up, lest your brother think you half-hearted!
You know you must convince him!  " Polly could hear the threat implicit
in his tone.  His hand was hot and damp through the thin silk of her
summer dress.  Her skin crawled.  She opened her mouth to say
something, anything, that might help win the day, though she knew in
her heart that the cause was hopeless.  Then she met Lucille's eyes.

The Countess of Sea grave had one hand resting lightly on her stomach
where the faintest curve of her pregnancy was beginning to show.  The
other hand was on her husband's arm, in a gesture at once tender,
supportive and united.

And the look in her vivid blue eyes as she gazed at Polly was one of
direct challenge.  A sob tore itself from Polly's throat.  Lucille had
everything that Polly wanted, everything that she had thought at last
she might achieve with Lord Henry March night, and here she was,
smashing it to pieces before it had begun.

She looked at Hetty Mark ham and found herself trembling on the very
edge of exposure.  Hetty's disgrace would be her freedom, but then
there was Peter.

Peter, who had never been particularly sensitive but was looking at her
with a mixture of puzzlement and concern, Peter who would be so hurt.
"You must excuse me... the heat... I feel so unwell..."

But before she could escape the pitiless stare of all those eyes.
Henry's chair went clattering back.  Polly saw the outrage and disgust
on his face, the blazing fury as he turned his back on her and stalked
out of the room, and then she fainted.

Somewhere beyond the locked door, Polly could hear the Dowager
Countess's voice rising and falling like a peal of bells.

"It's madness, I tell you, complete madness!  To throw herself away on
that loathsome creature well, really, Godfrey!  Someone must speak to
her!  No, not you, Godfrey, you would only make matters worse!  Oh,
Lord, what are we to do?"

There was a rumble from Sir Godfrey, the words indistinguishable, then
Polly heard Lady Belling ham's soothing tones.

"Dear ma'am, I do not believe for one moment that Lady Polly wishes to
marry Mr Dit ton.  Surely what is of concern is the reason she feels
she must!"

Polly held her breath.  She had great respect for Lady Belling ham's
perspicacity.

"She has told us that it is that ridiculous business the other night!"
the Dowager Countess was saying tearfully.

"We have told her and told her that it is of no consequence, but she
insists that her reputation is damaged!

I never heard such a nonsense!  The girl has taken leave of her senses!
And to pretend that she holds him in esteem!  It's utterly absurd!  "
Polly heard the sound of a door closing across the corridor, then
Lucille's tones, soft and questioning.

"Lucille!"  the Dowager Countess expostulated.  "You must speak to
Polly!  At once!"

Polly tensed, awaiting the knock at the door.  She could hear Lucille's
tones, a brief murmur in stark contrast to the Dowager's histrionics,
and then there was silence.  Polly waited, but no knock came.  She
felt so relieved that she almost cried all over again, for now she
would at least be spared the necessity of lying to Lucille, something
she simply could not bear to do.

She slipped off the bed, where her hot, furious tears had soaked right
through the pillow, and went across to the open window.  The cool
evening breeze from the sea was stirring the curtains, caressing her
swollen face with its gentle touch.  Polly could not bear to look at
her reflection, both to avoid seeing her ravaged face but more to avoid
the shock of recognising the pain in her own eyes.

She had cried all night and for the better part of the following day,
until she had no tears left.  She had cried for herself, for her
brother Peter, who had inadvertently put her in this situation, and for
poor, feckless Hetty, whose obsession with glamour and consequence had
been her own--and now Polly's-- downfall.  But most of all, Polly cried
for the death of all her hopes.  She remembered the tenderness with
which Henry had held her only the previous evening, the stupefied
amazement on his face as Tristan Dit ton had made his announcement, and
the way he had turned his back and walked away.

She had been so foolish, believing that she could control Tristan Dit
ton, thinking it an easy matter to save Hetty's reputation and then
somehow save her own future.  Now she realised too late that even if
she explained everything at once, the barrier she had i placed between
herself and Henry March night could never be overcome.

The shadows were falling across the bowling green.  ; Polly found it
impossible to believe that it was only the previous day that the world
had seemed so bright | with promise.  But now.  She shut her mind to
it.

Soon--very soon--she would have to face the cumulative disapproval of
her family again, for they had been promised for an assembly at the The
Angel in Wood bridge, and Polly did not trust Tristan Dit ton to hold
his tongue were she to cry off.

She had seldom looked so ill as when she descended the stairs that
evening.

None of the family had been in to see her as she was dressing, a sure
sign of their disapproval, and the pity on Jessie's face as she had
viewed Polly's pale and swollen countenance was almost enough to send
her back to bed.  None of the frills and furbelows, the primping and
tweaking, could make any difference.  She looked dreadful.

All the Sea graves, Sir Godfrey Or bison and Lady Belling ham, were
assembled in the hall awaiting her.  No one said a word.  Polly thought
that Nicholas looked as angry as when she had refused Julian
Morrish--or possibly more so.

His dark eyes were blazing and his mouth was drawn in a very tight
line.  The Dowager Countess and Sir Godfrey both looked as though they
were about to pop with the effort of remaining silent, whilst Peter and
Hetty looked both distressed and embarrassed.  But it was Lucille and
Lady Belling ham with whom Polly knew she had to be careful, for they
were fully capable of guessing at least a part of what had happened.

By the time the party reached The Angel in Wood- bridge, Polly felt
that she had already reached breaking point.  There had obviously been
some agreement amongst the family that no one would mention her
betrothal, for both Lucille and Nicholas, with whom she was
travelling, avoided any subject that had even the slightest overtones
of engagement, marriage or Mr Dit ton.  Polly found it rather sinister.
Paradoxically, she found this silence, particularly on Lucille's part,
made her desperate to confide in her sister-in-law.  But Nicholas's
dark gaze, resting on her with exasperated resignation, kept her
silent.

It was clear that news of the unlikely betrothal had circulated around
Wood bridge with the speed of wildfire, for dozens of their
acquaintance hurried forward to offer congratulations, and those who
had been at the ball were still talking about it.  Miss Dit ton fell on
Polly's neck as soon as they entered the ballroom.

"Sister!"  she said in raptures, 'how delightful to see you!  Mama is
still aux anges and can speak of little else!  " She stood back, and
frowned at Polly's puffy, pasty face.

"Good Lord, you look quite freakish tonight, my dear!  I would have
expected to see you happier!"

Polly, reflecting miserably on a life in which she had to tolerate Miss
Dit ton's malicious pinpricks every day, could barely face the delight
of her mother.  Mrs Dit ton was sitting, beaming, beside a potted palm.
Her unctuous son, whose smile was twice as wide, was leaning on the
back of her chair and accepting the congratulations of all who passed.
As soon as she saw him, Polly began to feel physically sick.  There was
such an aura of evil exuding from him that she wondered no one else
could sense it.

Her torment had only just begun, however.  Tristan claimed her for the
first dance, and followed it up by pressing for the waltz as well.  In
vain did Polly protest that she did not care to dance.  He swept all
her objections aside.

 "Nonsense!"  he cried gaily, whilst his mother looked on indulgently
at his ardour and the Dowager Countess of Sea grave looked considerably
less enthusiastic.

"Nothing could be more appropriate!  My dear Polly--my very dear Polly,
you are mine now to natter and tease and monopolise!  What joy!

What delight!  " "It is perfectly in order for you to dance the waltz,
Polly," the Dowager Countess said, with the sort of weary patience
which suggested that she thought it was probably Polly's just
desserts.

Mr Dit ton clasped Polly very close.  His bony hands seemed to clutch
her to him, pressing against her in a thoroughly unpleasant manner. And
when she tried to ease away, he pulled her tightly against his sparse
chest and hissed, "Do you forget that you must dance to my tune now,
Lady Polly?  One word out of place and Miss Mark ham's reputation dies
forever!  Aye, and your brother's happiness too!  Smile, my dear!"

Unbidden, an old memory came into Polly's mind from when they had all
been children together.  Tristan had always been the one who took
pleasure in torturing the frogs and toads they found in the woodland
ponds, poking sticks at them, or worse.  Polly could remember screaming
at him to release a small bird that had fallen from its nest and was
fluttering helplessly in his greedy, cruel hands.  And now he was
torturing her, and enjoying himself thoroughly in the process.  She
hated him.  The bile was rising in her throat and a red mist hung
before her eyes.  The only way she could survive was to deaden all
feeling.

Tristan Dit ton stuck fast to Polly's side all night, acting the
attentive lover to the hilt.  At some point in the evening, the March
nights had arrived and Polly's heart had leapt until she had realised
that Henry intended to ignore her utterly.  The only gentleman who did
attempt to break Dit ton's monopoly was an officer of the 21st
Dragoons, who were stationed at Wood- bridge Barracks.  A number of
them were at me ball, their redcoats making a bright splash of colour
amongst the more sober black of the evening dress, and the young
captain made eager play for Polly's hand in a country dance until Dit
ton told him to take himself off.  Polly was embarrassed by Dit ton's
bad manners as she saw the captain back away in puzzlement and anger.
Nor did her own family evince any interest in her company.  It was as
though they had abandoned her completely to the Dit tons.  Never had
she felt so alone.

"Polly, you are looking like the spectre at the feast," Lucille said,
under her breath, pausing briefly beside her sister-in-law whilst Mr
Dit ton's attention was temporarily distracted by his sister.  Miss Dit
ton was begging her brother to confirm that Lady Laura March night was
looking positively sallow that evening and Lucille's clear gaze rested
dispassionately on the tittering brother and sister before coming back
to rest on Polly.

"Oh, Lord, Polly, I promised Nicholas that I would say nothing, but
when you told me last week that you would marry the first man who
asked, I scarce thought--' Polly took a breath to tell Lucille that she
wanted to explain, but Mr Dit ton turned back to them and the chance
was lost.

"The supper dance!"  Mr Dit ton said, still burning with the unpleasant
glow of excitement that his torment of Polly engendered.

"Lovely Lady Polly, do me the honour..."

There was no possible way that Polly could eat anything at all.  The
food at The Angel was very good for a provincial assembly, but Polly,
plagued by the joint torments of Tristan Dit ton's presence and the
sight of Lord Henry ostentatiously ignoring her, sat miserably looking
at the plate of strawberries and playing with her spoon.  Eventually
she excused herself and slipped out of the dining-room.  Not even
Tristan Dit ton would insist on accompanying her to the ladies' room.

Polly gazed at her reflection with complete lack of interest and
tweaked a curl back inside her coronet with a weary hand.  The
temptation to stay in here forever was overwhelming.  She would have to
tell Lucille.  She could not bear it.  A shadow fell across the mirror.
The candles wavered.  Polly swung round, a hand to her throat.

She would never have thought it of him, but then she had consistently
underestimated Lord Henry March night.  He did not care a rush for
convention and would go wherever he pleased, even into the ladies'
withdrawing-room.  As she watched, he closed the door with great
deliberation and came towards her.

"Good evening.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry said.  With icy courtesy.

"I want to talk to you."

Chapter Fifteen QysQ All of Polly's emotions flashed into immediate
and vivid life, as though she had previously been moving through a
dream.

Although Henry was standing at some distance from her, she could feel
the anger emanating from him, see the hostility in his eyes.  Even as
she grasped at the opportunity to speak to him and attempt to explain
the dreadful dilemma in which she found herself, something in her
quailed before the fury she saw in him.

She put out a hand towards him.

"Henry!  Oh, thank God!  Please--it is not as you imagine--' " No? Then
how is it, my lady?  " There was no gentleness in him now.  He took a
step forward and caught both her arms above the elbow.

"Is it that Dit ton could offer what I was not free to do?  Strange, I
did not think you the type to accept an offer for the sake of being
married!

Why, you have had many better chances!  Morrish!  Bel lars!"  He shook
her slightly.  "So perhaps it is that Dit ton's type attracts you?  But
again, I could have sworn that was not so!  Was his love-making
prettier than mine, perhaps?"

Polly wilted in his arms.

"Oh, do not," she whispered, unable to bear the anguish in his eyes.
She put up a hand to his cheek.

"Harry, it was not like that!  I had no choice..."

There was a moment of complete stillness, when the fury still burned in
Henry's eyes, then it faded and he slid his hands down her arms,
clasping her cold hands in his.

"Polly, my love, you must tell me what has happened.  I was so angry...
I am sorry--' He broke off.  " When I saw you tonight I knew something
was dreadfully wrong.  Tell me.  " He tightened his grip.  " You must
trust me.  " The easy tears stung Polly's eyes again and closed her
throat.  If Henry had remained angry, had reviled her, she would have
withstood his hostility in stony silence, but this gentleness almost
unmanned her.

"Oh, Harry, I cannot tell--' The tears choked her.  She could not bear
it.

Henry was still holding her tightly.

"Dit ton is compelling you into this offensive masquerade, is he not?
But--' he frowned '--I cannot see by what means..."

"I cannot tell," Polly said again, unable to meet his eyes.

"Oh, Harry, do not ask me--' " It cannot be because of that foolish
incident the other night," Henry continued, his tone hardening.

"That would be a nonsense.  So, Polly, what is it all about?
Blackmail?"

His tone compelled her to look up and meet his eyes.  She saw stark
determination there, anger, puzzlement and an intentness to find out
the truth.  Her resolve weakened.  But it would not be like confiding
in Lucille--Henry would feel obliged to take some action, and to pour
out Hetty's disgrace to him would be so unfair to her future
sister-in-law.

She could not break her silence and expose Hetty's guilt.

"It is not my secret to tell," she said piteously.

"But Harry, it is not my actions that have given Mr Dit ton the means
to exert his will..."

Henry frowned.

"Then--' " It is Hetty!  " Polly said, and burst into tears.

"Miss Mark ham?"  Henry seemed astounded.

"Polly, you must tell me.  Trust me--' Polly gazed at him hopelessly.
Surely he could see how desperate she was to tell him, that she trusted
him more than anyone in the world, and yet... Henry had forgiven her so
much--the youthful immaturity that had stunted her first love for him,
her foolish suspicions about his activities.  But now he would believe
that she did not trust him enough to confide in him, not understanding
that a loyalty to her family kept her silent.  Polly saw the look of
withdrawal she dreaded come into Henry's eyes, and in that second, she
realised that the most important thing was not to preserve Hetty's
secret, but to entrust Henry with it.  She started to speak, but
another voice interrupted her before she had said more than two
words.

"By all accounts, fishing in other men's pools is your favoured
occupation, March night!"  Tristan Dit- ton sneered from the doorway.

"An affecting tableau, but not one to which you have any right!  Do not
approach my promised wife again!"

All expression had been wiped clean from Henry's face.  He turned to
face the other man.  For a moment it seemed that Dit ton flinched back,
although Henry had made no move towards him.

"Take care that you do not make her a widow, Dit ton," he said softly,
but with an edge to his words that made Polly shiver suddenly.

"It will be my most earnest endeavour to see her so."

"Mr Dit ton!"  Barely had Henry brushed past Tristan Dit ton without
another word before Lady Belling ham was standing behind him in the
passage and addressing him in tones of deepest displeasure.

"You do realise that this is the ladies' withdrawing-room, sir?  I
assure you, you are the last person a lady would wish to meet when she
takes refuge in here!  Kindly retire!"

Mr Dit ton flushed bright red and sidled off down the corridor.

"Routed!"  her ladyship said with immense satisfaction.  She closed the
door behind her and turned her critical dark gaze on Polly.

"My dear, how very woebegone you look!  Did you have the chance to
speak to Lord Henry?  I sent him along to you as soon as I was able,
but I was afraid that that unpleasant Dit ton fellow would get in the
way!  What a vulgar piece of work that man is!"

Polly was not sure whether to laugh or cry.  There was something so
bracing about Lady Belling ham's practical common sense that it made
matters seem much less black.

"I was about to confide in Lord Henry when Mr Dit ton came in," she
admitted.

"It took me a little time to pluck up the courage and by then Mr Dit
ton had already found us.  Oh, dear!  Lord Henry will think that I do
not trust him--' " Indeed, my dear, and it is of the utmost importance
that he is made to understand!  " Lady Belling ham said
energetically.

"Lord Henry loves you so very much that I imagine you have occasioned
him a great deal of pain through this false engagement!  If you do not
act quickly he may not forgive you!"

"I did try," Polly said dispiritedly, 'but I did not have enough
time--' "And no doubt he wasted some of it in berating you!"  Lady
Belling ham shook her head sadly.

"Gentlemen are so predictable, but I have high hopes of Lord Henry's
intelligence and perception.  Surely he can see that you are being
blackmailed?"

"Yes, but I did not have the chance to explain--' Polly broke off.

"How on earth did you know that, Lady B.?"

"Oh, my dear..."  Lady Belling ham gestured widely 'how could you
possibly have agreed to marry that horrid little man otherwise?  For a
while I could not imagine what hold he had over you, then I realised
that it could be nothing to do with you personally--' "You cannot
know--' " No," Lady Belling ham said serenely, "I do not know the
precise truth.  All I know is that you are protecting someone else for
the best of motives."

She took Polly's hands.

"But I do urge you, my dear, to reconsider.  You may find that what you
have been told is very far from the truth..."

Polly stared.

"I wish I could believe you, ma'am," she said sadly, 'but all the
details fit the case.  You do not think that I would have agreed to the
betrothal otherwise?  Oh, I do not know what to do--' The door opened
and a young lady peered in a little dubiously.  Lady Belling ham took
Polly's arm and steered her out into the corridor.

"Come, we must see if we can find Lord Henry for you.  I cannot deny
that I am consumed with curiosity to know the truth, but Lord Henry
should be the first to hear!  You must tell him, and at once.  If
necessary, I shall occupy that repellent Mr Dit ton by telling him
exactly what I think of him.

That should distract his attention!  In fact, I think I shall do that
anyway!"

Lady Belling ham's plan was destined to be dashed, however.  Neither
Lord Henry March night nor Tristan Dit ton could be found when they
re-entered the ballroom.

Looking about, Polly thought that the company seemed to be thinning
rapidly.

The officers of the 21st Light Dragoons seemed to be vanishing from
before her eyes.

"Oh, this assembly is so tediously dull!"  Miss Dit- ton yawned.

"Mama, let us retire!  Where can Tristan have got to?"  She looked
about her, vexed.

"I

hope he will not mind if we take the carriage!  It is so thoughtless of
him to disappear just as we require his escort!  " As far as Polly was
concerned, Dit ton could not be far enough away.  She endured Miss Dit
ton's pretence at an affectionate farewell embrace, winced as she was
addressed as "Sister', and retreated thankfully to Lucille's side.  She
had already decided that she would seek a private audience with her
sister-in-law as soon as they reached Dilling ham Court.  She could
carry the secret of Hetty's disgrace no longer.

The journey home was almost as dreadful as the one to the assembly.

Lucille, Polly and Nicholas sat in silence whilst Polly ached to burst
out with the truth.  Other melancholy thoughts also occupied her mind.
A few moments more and she would have told Henry everything, but now he
would think that she did not trust him enough to confide.  And it had
been true.  doubt had kept her silent until it was too late.

Polly took no notice as the carriage lurched along the dark lanes from
Wood bridge to Dilling ham.  It was only when they came to an abrupt
halt in the middle of nowhere that she looked up in surprise.  Nicholas
opened the window and stuck his head out.  A cold mist was blowing in
from the sea, wreathing around the trees, creeping into the carriage.
Polly shivered.

She was uncertain of their precise location as she had not been paying
attention, but the night was cold and as desolate as only the empty
Suffolk nights could be.

"John?  What the devil's going on?"  Nicholas demanded.

"There's a barricade across the road, my lord," the coachman
responded.

"Army business, apparently, though here's one can tell you what's going
on--' " What's happening.  Lieutenant?  " Nicholas Sea- grave demanded
of someone beyond Polly's vision.  " Why have we stopped?  " There was
a murmur of conversation and then the soldier stepped around the side
of the carriage, his red coat vivid in the misty darkness.  His broad
smile dispelled some of the tension gathering inside, where Lucille and
Polly were just starting to worry.

"Oh it's you, my lord!  Please accept my apologies for stopping the
coaches--a precaution only--but there has been some trouble down on the
mud flats..."  He grinned suddenly, dropping all formality.

"You'll be glad to know, sir, that the operation has been a success and
both parties taken as we planned--' " Nicholas?  What is happening?  "
The Dowager Countess's voice reached them imperiously from the door of
the carriage she was sharing with the others.  " Why have we stopped in
this godforsaken place?  " The young Lieutenant turned hastily to
apologise.  "In just a moment we should be able to allow your journey
to proceed, ma'am..."

"Did you take the ship as well?"  Nicholas asked.

"We did, sir!  The Laribee was hanging about outside port for the best
part of the day, but she showed the revenue cutter a clean pair of
heels when they went after her!  When darkness fell she came in close
again and put a boat out at the mouth of the creek, but we were waiting
for them before they got to the rendezvous!  The crew swore blind that
they were innocent, but we found a tidy stock of brandy in the hold. It
was to be an exchange, a man out and the cargo in, only the men on the
beach started to quarrel and under cover of the noise and darkness--'
He broke off at the sound of marching footsteps on the road.  Polly,
leaning forward to peer into the darkness, drew back with an
exclamation as a posse of soldiers, mud stained and filthy, marched
past the carriages with two prisoners under escort in chains.  One was
utterly unknown to her, but the other-- " Tristan Dit ton!  " The
Dowager Countess's astounded tones cut the air.

"You have Tristan Dit ton there under arrest!  What on earth is going
on--' " Do close the carriage door.  Mama," Nicholas said hastily.

"We may progress now.  Questions must wait until we are back in the
warm, I think."

And he drew back into the coach.  They started to move again, but not
until Polly's astonished gaze had taken in every detail of Mr Dit ton's
extraordinary appearance.  Gone was the dandified, exquisite simpering
over his shirt- points, and in his place was a snarling monster,
straining helplessly against the chains that held him.  For a moment
his furious gaze picked her out and pinned her with his anger before he
was dragged past.

Polly shivered violently and, as the carriage picked up speed, she
burrowed as far under the rugs as she could in a vain effort to get
warm.

"Tristan Dit ton!"  The Dowager Countess was still expostulating loudly
as they all entered the hall at Dilling ham Court.

"If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I doubt I should have believed
it!

And you---' she swung around accusingly on her elder son '--you appear
to know all about it!"

Nicholas Sea grave was grinning broadly.

"Oh no, this is Harry March night's show, not mine!  I merely offered
my help when he asked!  You will have to ask Harry for the
explanation!"

"Harry March night!"  The Dowager Countess was beginning to resemble a
parrot in her repeti ton.

"What in the name of all that's holy can Harry March night have to do
with this?  Why, I like Harry above all people, he is the most charming
of men and he did us a great good turn in London, but--' She stopped
suddenly.

"And you, Polly!  What do you know of all this?  The betrothal to
Tristan Dit- ton--' Polly had not been listening to her mother's
exclamations.  She had suddenly realised with a feeling of sick horror
and indignation that her brother had known of Dit ton's criminality and
yet had said nothing, had done nothing to rescue her from the travesty
of her engagement to him.  Worse, only a night ago, Henry March night
had sworn to tell her the truth and had done so, but had neglected the
most important part--that Tristan Dit ton was the real villain.

"How dare you?"  Her words cut across whatever Lucille had been saying
to the Dowager Countess.  She glared at Nicholas.

"How dare you and Henry March night play your games and think it
entertaining?  You could have saved me--one word from you and I would
have known--' Her voice broke and she started to sob.

"You must see that I could not, Polly."  Nicholas had come across to
her and tried to put an arm around her, but Polly pushed him away
furiously.

"The situation was so fraught with danger that, if Dit ton had had any
hint that all was not well, he might have run before we could trap
him--' Polly did not want to hear him.  She turned away and stumbled up
the stairs to her room where, for a second time, she locked herself in
and cried as though her heart were breaking.

Chapter Sixteen QsrQ Dy the time that a pale dawn was breaking over
Dilling ham Court, an exhausted Polly had thought about her situation
twenty times over and had been forced to admit that Nicholas had been
right.  Had she known of Tristan Dit ton's connections with Chap- man,
had she been told he was a criminal, she would never have been able to
treat him with the cool courtesy she had usually meted out to him.  It
would have been impossible to behave normally in his presence.
Nevertheless, Henry's behaviour rankled.

She had been chastising herself for lack of trust in him; it was
difficult not to feel that he had shown a similar lack of faith in
her.

As for Hetty's secret, it seemed to Polly that it would be best to keep
silent on that score now that Dit ton was taken.  There was no way of
knowing if he had spoken the truth and it seemed to Polly that least
said was soonest mended.  She knew that it would be difficult to avoid
the perceptive questions of Lucille and Lady Belling ham and the more
forthright ones of the Dowager Countess, but with the wedding only five
weeks away she was determined to hold her peace.  Dit ton could not
constitute a threat any more and it would be pointlessly distressing to
rake up the story.  Henry was the only one to whom she had confided
that she was being blackmailed through Hetty, and Polly thought rather
wearily that Henry was unlikely to be able to press her on the matter
since she would never be alone with him ever again.

Polly was too tired and too resigned to try to delude herself that
matters could ever be the same between her and Henry.  For a brief time
everything had been perfect, but now it was spoiled beyond
redemption.

Polly slept fitfully and woke late, going down to breakfast determined
to put a brave face on matters.  The fact that everyone else had eaten
and the room was empty helped her gather her courage.  However, she
almost fell at the first hurdle when she emerged from breakfast to find
Henry March night being ushered into the drawing-room.  The Dowager
Countess, on espying her daughter about to bolt up the stairs, seized
her arm in a vice-like grip and marched her into the room.

"There you are, Polly!  Lord Henry is come to tell us all about Mr Dit
ton's activities!  I am sure we are all agog!"  She peered at her
daughter's face rather critically.

"Dear me, you are as wan as a December morning, my love!  The shock of
it all, I suppose!  Medlyn, some tea if you please!"

"Mama!"  Polly began, in an agonised whisper, but the Dowager appeared
to be suddenly afflicted by deafness.  She took a seat on the sofa and
compelled Polly to sit down beside her.  The whole of the family was
assembled, Peter and Hetty on the window-seat, Lucille, Nicholas and
Henry in scattered armchairs set in a circle.

There was a pause whilst the tea was brought in by two footmen and
placed before the Dowager Countess.  Polly felt almost stifled with
nerves.  Even more galling, she had known before her mother spoke that
she looked dreadful; it seemed that every time Henry saw her now she
was looking wan and pasty, a far cry from his own careless elegance.

"Tristan Dit ton as Chapman's protector!"  the Dowager Countess
exclaimed, breaking the silence and passing Henry strong tea in a china
cup.  She bestowed a warm smile upon him.

"It is scarcely to be believed!  Why, I always found him a loathsome
man, but never suspected... Nicholas!"  She appealed to her elder son.
"Did you ever imagine Tristan Dit ton a criminal?  Before you knew him
to be so, of course!"

"No, Mama," Nicholas Sea grave said obligingly, "I am ashamed to admit
that I had no notion!  I always found him deeply offensive but had no
idea that he had the ability to run a criminal operation!"

"Extraordinary!"  the Dowager opined.

"Dit ton was certainly intelligent enough to appear stupid," Henry said
drily, 'but with too little self- control to resist boasting about his
achievements!  My suspicions were first aroused by the gloating
excitement with which he spoke of Chapman in London, and kept insisting
that the man had a rich protector.  I soon saw that he thought himself
invulnerable.  But his vanity was his downfall.  " He shook his head.

"His contacts in Suffolk made this the perfect escape route for
Chapman.  Dit ton had been dabbling in smuggling for a number of years
when he needed the money-- he even used his carriage to transport
smuggled goods under the noses of the militia!  And, of course he
cultivated that foolish, foppish attitude which led one to believe that
he was nothing but a dandy."

"No doubt you recognised that deception since you practised it
yourself!"

Polly put in a little pointedly.  She gave Henry a very straight look
as his thoughtful gaze transferred itself to her.  It was very
difficult for her to swallow her resentment and hear him out
courteously.  She found that she felt very angry.

Everyone seemed to be looking at her and to distract attention she
fiddled with her teacup and only succeeded in spilling the liquid and
drawing even more attention to herself.  The Dowager Countess pursed
her lips and filled another cup for her daughter.

"How did you know that Dit ton intended to try to smuggle Chapman out
of the country.  Henry?"  Lucille asked curiously when the commotion
had subsided.

Henry shifted a little in his chair.

"I received the intelligence that Chapman was to be helped to escape
abroad and then matters made perfect sense," he said.  "Dit ton was
spending a lot of time down here and Suffolk has the ideal coastline
for smuggling.  Goods, men..."  he shrugged 'there are so many deserted
beaches, mud flats, creeks.

It should have been easy for him, but I was watching him all the time
and in the end, of course, he gave himself away by quarrelling with his
allies and allowing the Dragoons to capture them all!  " "That night at
the House of Tides..."  Polly began, drawn in despite herself.

"Yes--' Henry smiled a little '--Dit ton was certainly on the prowl
that night!  It was one of the nights when the tide was right to bring
a boat in, but in the end the weather was against it.  It was Dit
ton's bad luck to be marooned at the House of Tides that night, and my
good luck that he was so close by!  Like me, he knew that there was a
passageway from the cellars to the sea and he decided to explore."
Henry gave Polly an expressive look.

"The spiral staircase in your room there led directly down to the
cellars.  I imagine Dit ton had heard mention of that too.

Certainly his explorations took him into your bedroom and into direct
confrontation with your chamber pot!  " There was a rustle of laughter
from everyone.  Polly had to make a conscious effort not to smile.  She
did not want to forgive Henry so easily and she could feel her de
fences weakening.  It was so fatally easy to like him, to feel that
warmth melting her hostility.

Lucille shivered a little, sobering abruptly.

"Poor Mrs Dit ton--and poor Thalia!  I could almost find it in my heart
to feel sorry for them!"

"Lucille!  That horrid Miss Dit ton!"  Hetty raised her brows.

"How can you spare them your sympathy?"

Lucille smiled a little sadly.

"Only think what it must be like for them now, Hetty!  Mrs Dit ton was
always so proud of her offspring and she has precious little to be
proud of now!  A son in prison and a daughter who will no doubt be
abandoned by her fiance!

They will be forever moving now, trying to conceal their notoriety,
looking over their shoulders, afraid that someone will give their
shameful secret away.  Tristan has brought them to that and I pity
them."

"And to think that Lord Henry knew all the time that Tristan Dit ton
was a criminal!"  Polly said, an edge to her voice.  Everyone looked at
her again.

The words had come out more loudly than she had in tended, but she was
so angry she could not contain them.

"You told me much of the truth about your activities, Lord Henry," she
said coldly, aware that everybody was listening but speaking for Henry
alone, 'that night at the ball.  But the most important part you chose
to neglect--' "As did you, my lady," Henry said gently, holding her
gaze, 'when I pressed you to tell me the means by which Dit ton
compelled you into the betrothal.

Would you care to enlighten us now that all is safe?  " Polly caught
her breath.  Against her will her gaze slid to Hetty and away again.
She had not thought to speak of this in company.

"I think not, sir."  She cleared her throat.

"The matter is closed now that Mr Dit ton is under arrest.  It need
concern us no further."

"Perhaps you still consider yourself bound by the betrothal?"  Henry
asked, for all the world as though he genuinely believed it might be
so.

Polly reddened with a combination of embarrassment and annoyance at his
persistence.

"Certainly not!"  she snapped.

"But the matter is no longer relevant--' " Nonsense, Polly!  " The
Dowager Countess could be most obtuse when she chose to be.

"You may speak freely, my love!  We are all positively consumed with
curiosity and will not rest until we know!"

Polly, who had found herself incapable of tearing her gaze away from
Henry's look of challenge, forced herself to face her mother instead.

"No, truly.  Mama, it will not serve--' " I think you should speak out,
Polly.  " Surprisingly it was Lucille who spoke up now, gently but
firmly.

 "You may find that what you believe--what you have been told--is not
the case.  At the very least, I do not believe that the truth can be
hidden any longer."

Polly stared at her.

"Lucille?  But--how can you know?"

"Tell us," Lucille repeated, and her tone was inexorable.

Polly allowed herself to look across at Peter and Hetty, who were
sitting opposite her on the sofa.  Peter looked vaguely puzzled but the
delicate colour had already started to come into Hetty's face, as
though she sensed what was to come.  Polly took a deep breath.

"Very well, if it must be so.  Mr Dit ton came to me on the night of
the ball.  First he suggested that we should become betrothed to
protect my good name from the scandal caused by his presence in my
bedroom that night at the House of Tides.  I thought this ridiculous
and told him so.  He then dropped all pretence of respect and
affection."  Polly looked briefly at Hetty again.

This was so very difficult.  Everybody was quite silent, waiting for
her to continue.  Lucille was willing her on with a look of combined
sympathy and determination.

"Mr Dit ton told me," Polly said very clearly, 'that he had information
injurious to Hetty's reputation and that he would make it
public--announce it in the ball- room--if I did not immediately consent
to an engagement between the two of us.  " "Oh!"  Hetty had gasped even
before Polly finished speaking, pressing one hand to her mouth, her
cheeks scarlet and her eyes wide with horror.  Polly watched as Peter
moved closer, taking her hand in a comforting hold.

 "Mr Dit ton must have told you what that information was in order to
gain your consent," Lucille observed, coolly.

"And it must have been convincing.

You would not have believed it else.  " Polly's eyes flew to her
face.

"Yes, indeed, but-- Lucille, I cannot!"  She threw another look at
Hetty, who had turned her face into Peter's shoulder.

"Hetty, I am so sorry!  I did not wish to tell--' Peter's face was
grim.

"You should finish Dit ton's tale.  Poll!"

"How can I?"  Polly appealed to them.  She felt sick at what was
happening.

Hetty looked like a broken butterfly, her tumbled curls brushing
Peter's shoulder, her face hidden.  Polly had a horrible vision of
Peter pushing her away, repudiating her when he knew the truth.  Yet
Peter was holding her so tenderly, whispering words of comfort, almost
as though he knew.  "You know!"

she said, almost accusingly.

"I know the truth," Peter said harshly, 'but what is the tale?  "
Astonishingly, whilst Polly groped for the words, it was Henry who
answered.

"My guess is that Dit ton told Lady Polly that Miss Mark ham had spent
a night alone at an inn with a man, and that the man was Edmund
Grantley."

This time it was Polly who gasped.  She stared at him in
astonishment.

"How could you possibly know?"

Across from her.  Henry said bitterly, "I would guess further that Lady
Polly could not bear for her future sister-in-law to be ruined, but
most of all she could not see you hurt and disillusioned, Peter.
Perhaps she thought that you might already know and that you were
protecting Miss Mark ham by offering her marriage.  In either case.
Lady Polly knew that you loved Miss Mark ham sincerely and would be
dreadfully injured by the disclosure.  It was misplaced loyalty that
kept her silent--and impelled her into the betrothal."

Polly could not speak.  Hetty was crying quietly in Peter's arms and
Polly wished she could follow suit.  Her mother's face was stiff with
shock and horror, Nicholas looked almost as grim as his brother, and it
was Lucille who came across to Polly in a rustle of silk and put an arm
around her.

"I did what I thought was right!"  Polly said.  It seemed to her that
the words came out too loudly, rattling the china, making her listeners
wince.

"Of course you did," Lucille said soothingly, hugging her close.

"It is just that Mr Dit ton's story was not true.  Oh, if only you had
confided in someone--' She bit her lip, clearly thinking that this was
hardly the time for recriminations.

The Dowager Countess, who had been viewing Hetty's sobbing figure with
a mixture of concern and doubt, turned to Lucille, her face clearing.

"The tale was not true, you say?  Dit ton invented it?  But--' Nicholas
Sea grave stirred slightly.

"Peter," he said thoughtfully, 'there is nothing for it but to tell the
truth.  " Hetty gave a little whimper.

"Oh, must we, indeed?  I cannot bear--' " Yes, you can, my love.  "
Peter put her a little away from him, giving her an encouraging smile
so full of love and warmth that Polly felt a huge lump in her throat.
This was very different from her imaginings, from the denunciation and
horror that she was certain would greet her revelations.

"It is true," Peter said grimly, 'that Edmund Grant- ley took Hetty to
the Rose and Crown at Famforth and imprisoned her there.  There is no
doubt his intention was to seduce her.  He had taken her driving that
afternoon and Hetty had become concerned at the distance they had gone
from home.  It was dusk when they pulled into the yard at Famforth, and
Grantley's intentions soon became clear to her.  " He glanced down at
Hetty, who was still held close to his side, her eyes cast down, her
face now as pale as it had been scarlet before.

"He kept her locked in one of the chambers for several hours whilst he
drank below," Peter continued savagely.

"Several people heard Grantley boasting drunkenly of the ripe little
bird he had waiting for him upstairs.  All might have fallen out as he
had planned had I not chosen to put up at Famforth that night."

"You!"  It was the Dowager Countess whose stunned accents spoke the
word and conveyed that she had already understood the rest of the
story.

Peter sat up a little straighter and took Hetty's hand in his once
more.

She was still very pale, but a light burned in her eyes.  Watching her,
Polly understood.  Hetty was safe in the knowledge that Peter loved her
above all things and that his love would never falter.  He would not
desert her to the condemnation of the world.

"It was too late to travel on to Kings mar ton that night, and Famforth
was conveniently on my route," Peter confirmed, meeting his mother's
eyes very directly.

"Hetty heard my arrival, heard me talking to the ostler, and
recognised my voice."  He looked at her and smiled.

"She smashed the window and shouted to me for help.  Grantley was still
downstairs and I..  persuaded him to take himself off.  It was quite a
mill."

There was grim amusement in Peter's voice.

"Then I went to find Hetty.  She was desperately upset and
frightened."

There was a pause whilst everyone filled in the missing bits for
themselves.

Polly could imagine Hetty's overwhelming relief at her rescue, the
breaking of the tension after such terror, Peter's fear for her and his
feelings on finding her unharmed.  An irresistible passion could quite
easily sweep one away.  Moral frailty, perhaps, but entirely
understandable.  Looking up, she caught Henry March night's eyes upon
her, accurately reading every thought and looking very interested.
Polly blushed and looked away.

"I think you all know already," Peter said gently, 'how much I love
Hetty and how honoured I am that she will be my wife.  None of that has
changed and I would marry her tomorrow if I could!  I wish with all my
heart that I had never done anything that endangered her reputation
but--' he shrugged '--such things happen and it is pointless to deny
it.  Poor Hetty has been through agonies of regret and remorse but I
feel she has done nothing of which she should be ashamed.  I can only
repeat that I love her with all my heart.  " "A good thing that you are
to many so soon!"  The Dowager Countess said trenchantly, conveniently
forgetting that it had been her most ardent hope to see the marriage at
St George's, Hanover Square, the following spring.

"But the scandal, Peter!  Whatever can Mrs Mark ham have thought when
Hetty did not return that night?"

"Mama was most distressed," Hetty confirmed, speaking for the first
time and just managing to overcome her embarrassment.

"Fortunately, my aunt and cousins were from home, so knew nothing of
the scandal, and when Mama saw that it was Peter who had rescued me and
that we were..."  she blushed 'betrothed once more, her fears were put
to rest.  " The Dowager Countess snorted.

"A fine protector, indeed, who takes advantage--' Aware of where her
words were leading her, she broke off again.  Her eye fell on her
younger son, defiantly looking back at her, and she softened
slightly.

"Well, well!"  She looked as though she were about to say "No harm
done!"  but quickly changed her mind.

"What I do not understand," Lucille said, a frown on her forehead, 'is
how Tristan Dit ton came to know of this--or at least to know enough to
make up so damaging and scurrilous a story.  " Now it was Henry's turn
to look a shade embarrassed.

"I can see that there is nothing to be done but tell you the rest. Lady
Sea grave--I was hoping to spare you this, for a little time at
least--' He broke off and sighed heavily, seeing the look of blank
incomprehension on all their faces.

"It was Lady Bolt who told Dit ton about the episode at the inn."

"Lady Bolt!"  Several people spoke at once.

"It does not surprise me that she is spreading slanderous gossip," the
Dowager Countess observed.

"But she was at Weller den with you when Peter was at Famforth!"  Polly
exclaimed and found that everyone was looking at her again.  She turned
bright red as Henry looked at her with quizzically raised brows.

"I mean... I understood that Lady Bolt... that you..."

Henry's smile mocked her.

"Just as you understood that I had arranged a tryst with Lady Bolt at
Richmond?  It was only business, I fear, contrary to all appearances!
It is true that Lady Bolt and I were briefly at Weller den's
houseparty, though not together in any sense of the word," he added
drily.

"In fact, Lady Bolt left only a day or two after Peter did.

Her intention, I believe, was to join the Duke of Gars ton at the New
market races.  I imagine her route took her through Famforth--I know it
did, for she stayed at the Rose and Crown only the night after Peter
was there.

The landlady there knows Lady Bolt and also knows of her connection
with the Mark ham family.  She was bursting to tell her ladyship this
prime piece of gossip and no doubt she was rewarded for the
information.  " "And Mr Dit ton?"  the Dowager Countess pressed.

Henry gave an ironic smile.

"This part might be amusing were it not that the behaviour of Dit ton
and Lady Bolt was so damaging.  You may know that the two of them are
old..."  he cleared his throat 'old friends.  In recent times they have
been in a different business together.  Lady Bolt has lent Dit ton
considerable sums of money, has become involved in several illegal
gaming rackets with him and has even, I suspect, benefited from his and
Chapman's criminal activities.  The extent of her involvement is
something on which she is currently being questioned.  She was arrested
this morning.  " He turned back to Lucille.

"I am sorry if the news occasions you any pain.  Lady Sea grave."

"I shall bear it with fortitude," Lucille said, straight faced.

"But we digress.  Did Lady Bolt pass on the gossip to Dit ton?"

Henry nodded.

"She did.  She wrote to him immediately.  She knew that he loved
scandal and she was also sure that he might find the information useful
at some point in the future.  Of course, she was correct."  He glanced
briefly at Polly, who looked away.

"The piquant part, however, was that Lady Bolt did not approach the
subject directly.  She liked to hint and tease, and at no point did she
tell Dit ton whom the gentleman was by name.  He, knowing that Miss
Mark ham had recently been courted by Grantley, made the obvious
assumption.  I know, because I have seen and destroyed the letter.  Dit
ton was carrying it last night."

"So you knew that as well!"  Polly was so affronted she thought she
might burst.

"You knew why I had agreed to the betrothal even though you pretended
you did not!"

"I only knew about the letter after Dit ton was arrested," Henry said
calmly, 'and I could not be certain that that was the means he used to
compel you to marry him.  There might have been something else!  "
Polly was not to be pacified.

"I do not believe you!  Of all the cruel tricks!  Oh!  You are
despicable--' " Polly!  " The Dowager Countess's shocked tones mingled
with Lucille's more tempered reproof.  Henry did not seem much put out.
Polly thought he was almost smiling and she felt she could have slapped
him had she been closer.

"The tea has gone cold," Lucille observed prosaically in an attempt to
calm the atmosphere.

"Nicholas, would you pull the bell for some more?  Henry, will you
stay?"

 Henry March night got to his feet.

"No, ma'am, I thank you.  I have work to do.  I am not sure--' his gaze
touched Polly's face briefly '--whether I shall return to Suffolk."

"But you must come to the wedding!"  Hetty said hopefully.  She seemed
to have almost recovered her spirits now that the dreadful truth had
come to light and no one, not even the Dowager, had condemned her as a
fallen woman.

Henry smiled.

"I should be very glad to do so if I can," he said, 'and I wish you
both very happy!  " There was an awkward silence after Nicholas had
gone out to see Henry to his curricle.  The Dowager Countess made some
comment about the weather, indicating that the topic of the past
fifteen minutes was now effectively closed.  Hetty ventured a remark
about the wedding arrangements and soon everyone was chatting about the
rival merits of orange blossom or hot-house lilies to decorate the
church.  For a fantastical moment it seemed to Polly as though the
whole episode had never even occurred.  She was left to marvel at the
swiftness with which the most enormous of family secrets could be swept
successfully under the carpet.

Chapter Seventeen QysQ You are my only hope now, Polly!  " The Dowager
Countess fixed her daughter with tragic dark eyes.

"I had every expectation of seeing Hetty and Peter married in London,
but of course that is out of the question now!  I was never more
shocked in my life!

And Hetty the daughter of so respectable a man!  There must have been
some sad lack of guidance in her upbringing--perhaps the influence of
that dreadful Cyprian," the Dowager added thoughtfully, brightening at
so plausible an explanation.

"I feel.  Mama, that you should be laying the blame at Peter's door if
you must apportion it anywhere," Polly said firmly.

"He is the seducer, after all!"

"Yes, and in such a low place as that inn!"  the Dowager mourned.

Polly hid a smile at the thought that Peter's behaviour would have been
more acceptable had he chosen more salubrious surroundings.

"I do feel that Hetty should show a certain reticence," the Dowager
continued.

"Why, she behaves as though nothing has happened!  It shows a certain
unsteadiness of character!"

 Polly thought that Hetty's ebullience sprang more from relief than a
want of feeling.

"I am persuaded that Hetty's feelings are all that is proper,"

she said.  "She is very young, Mama, and is understandably excited
about the wedding.  Now, in what way am I your only hope?"

"Why, for a fashionable wedding, of course!"  Happily, the Dowager was
now diverted.

"First Nicholas and Lucille marry in that hole-in-the-comer fashion,
and now Peter... But you will not disappoint me, I know!  It is what
your father would have wanted--' Polly was looking vaguely confused.

"But, Mama, I have no intention of getting married--' " No intention! "
The Dowager Countess laid aside the linen she had been folding for
Hetty's trousseau.  " But surely it is as good as arranged?  I assumed
that Lord Henry was only waiting until he could wash his hands of this
sordid affair with Tristan Dit ton!  Surely--' "You are mistaken.
Mama."  Polly got up hastily.  In the five weeks since Henry March
night had left Suffolk, she had had ample time to reflect on what had
happened and resolve that she could never explain to her mother why
such a match was now impossible.

"There never was an understanding between Lord Henry and myself--'
Polly steeled herself against the memory of that brief time when they
had been in such perfect accord.  " And I would be astounded were he
even to return to Dilling ham for the wedding next week!  " she
finished with relief.

The Dowager raised her dark brows.

"Now there you are fair and far out!"  she said triumphantly.

"I have had the most delightful letter from Lord Henry, engaging
himself for the wedding and the breakfast!  He will be escorting his
mother and sister.  Oh, and the Vereys are also coming up from London!
Is that not fine?  Perhaps," the Dowager said, brightening, 'it will be
almost as good as a Society wedding, after all!  " Lord Henry did not
come to the wedding.  The Duchess of March night, accompanied by the
Vereys and stately in Dowager purple, explained graciously that her son
had been detained on business but hoped to join the wedding party later
in the day.  Polly was acutely disappointed.  She tried not to lose
interest in the proceedings as a radiant Hetty wafted up the aisle on
Nicholas Sea grave's arm to be joined in holy wedlock with his
brother.

The service went very smoothly.  The Dowager Countess cried becomingly
into a large lace-edged handkerchief and Mrs Mark ham sniffed slightly
less elegantly in the pew opposite.  Hetty and the Dowager both wore
expressions of faint relief as she floated down the aisle again, this
time on her husband's arm.  A happy end to a potential scandal, Polly
thought with a smile.  Now that they were safely married and Hetty had
the protection of Peter's name, the whole unfortunate episode could be
allowed to slip into the past where it belonged.

The wedding breakfast at Dilling ham Court seemed interminable to
Polly.

Had Henry been there she would have been consumed with nerves, but as
it was, she felt both disappointed and let down.  Eventually they rose
from table to take a rest before the evening dance and supper for the
Sea graves' tenants and the villagers.  Polly felt out of sorts.
Misery had prompted her to eat too much and the meal weighed heavily on
her stomach.  She lay down in the cool of her room and allowed herself
to doze.

She was awoken by the sound of hooves on the gravel outside and voices
raised in greeting.  Hurrying across to the window, Polly was in time
to see Henry March night hand his reins to one of the grooms as Nick
Sea grave came forward to shake his hand and lead him up the steps into
the house.

That put a different complexion on the evening.  Polly, lethargy
forgotten, rushed to the bell and rang energetically for Jessie.

By the time she was ready, the dancing had already started in the Long
Barn.

Peter was energetically twirling his bride around in a spirited country
dance whilst the villagers, made merry by drink and good food, roared
their encouragement.  The older folk had retired from the fray, but the
Vereys had remained and Lady Laura March night seemed to have persuaded
the Duchess to allow her to stay.  Polly was immediately swept into the
dance by Simon Verey.

Henry was dancing with Therese Verey and Polly attempted the difficult
manoeuvre of trying to see his face whilst executing the complicated
steps of the dance.  She could read nothing there.  Nothing of
encouragement or liking or interest.  He did not even glance in her
direction.  She sighed inwardly.

Perhaps they were back as they had been a few short months ago,
mingling at the same social events but apart, almost strangers.  It
seemed intolerable and yet she might have to learn to live with it.

Then Simon Verey was steering her across the floor towards Henry and
was saying, "You must grant Lord Henry a dance.  Lady Polly, for he
has ridden all this way solely for that privilege!"

Henry gave him a droll smile.

"What a good friend you are, Simon, giving all a fellow's secrets
away!"

Simon smiled imperturbably, gravitated back to his wife's side, and
Henry took Polly's hand with grave courtesy.

"Will you dance.  Lady Polly?  Good manners might compel you to accept
after that introduction!"

"I need no compulsion, sir," Polly said, looking up into those steady
grey eyes and feeling a little dizzy.  Hope and fear were warring
within her.

Did they have another chance?

They danced in silence.  The country jigs and figured dances favoured
at such rustic gatherings hardly leant themselves to conversation.  All
about them the chatter and laughter ebbed and flowed, the tankards of
ale were drained and replenished, but Polly was only conscious of
Henry's eyes following her through the movement of the dance and the
brief touch of his hand on hers.

"You have been good enough to grant me this dance.  Lady Polly," Lord
Henry said when the music ended.

"Will you go further and grant me a private interview?  There are
matters we must discuss--' " Lord Henry!  " It was Hetty, bright-eyed
and beaming with happiness, who was at his elbow.

"Oh, I am so glad you were able to be here!"

She stood on tiptoe as Henry bent to kiss her cheek and wish her
happy.

Polly wondered fleetingly how Hetty had managed to achieve such an easy
friendship with him.  But then, Lucille had also found him both
friendly and charming.  It seemed that she was the only one who had
difficulty in achieving such intimacy and that was only because she
could not escape that powerful attraction he held for her.  As Henry
had said only a few months before, they could never be comfortable with
each other.

"You must not be angry with me.  Lord Henry," Hetty was continuing
sweetly, 'but I am come to take Polly away!  She has promised to attend
me this evening and my new Mama.  " she nodded towards the Dowager
Countess 'tells me it would be fitting for me to retire now!  It seems
a shame..."  for a moment Hetty looked at the revellers a little
enviously 'that I must miss the party!

" Henry stepped back with a slight bow.

"Then I shall hope for an opportunity to continue our conversation
later, Lady Polly."

Polly hoped that her disappointment did not show as sharply on her face
as she felt it inside.

It was much later that she was able to rejoin the party.  Hetty had
retired to bed with becoming modesty and there was only a small moment
of awkwardness when both mothers clearly felt they should make mention
of what to expect on the wedding night, only to remember that this was
hardly necessary.  Mrs Mark ham had become quite tearful now that her
only fledgling was married and had to be dosed with medicinal brandy in
the library.  As Lucille had been too tired to stay late, this duty
fell to Polly, who patiently listened to Mrs Mark ham's rambling tales
of Hetty's childhood.  Eventually Mrs Mark ham hauled herself to her
feet a little unsteadily and went off to bed and Polly cut through the
empty ballroom, where the chandeliers still blazed, and out through the
conservatory.

It was very dark on the terrace.  The sound of music and laughter still
drifted through the trees from the Long Barn, and the torchlight glowed
faintly.  As Polly closed the conservatory door behind her, a slight
figure came hurrying along the terrace and almost collided with her.
There was a muffled exclamation, then the figure put back the hood of
its cloak and revealed herself to be Lady Laura March night.

"Oh, Lady Polly!"  Laura gasped.

"How you startled me!  I did not see you there!"

She cast a swift look around.

"Please could you pretend that we have not met?  Indeed, it is of the
utmost importance, for you see, I am eloping!"

She brought the words out with a certain nourish and in the moonlight
her eyes were bright with excitement.

"Mr Far rant--' Polly began.

"He is waiting with the carriage at the end of the lime drive!"  Lady
Laura interrupted excitedly.

"He was a little unhappy with the plan, but I persuaded him!  Mama was
quite immovable over the scheme to send me to Northumberland and I knew
I should not see my dearest Charles for an age were I to comply!  Oh,
dear Lady Polly, say you will not betray me!"  She caught Polly's hands
in a desperate grip.

"Of course not," Polly said hastily, giving Laura's hands a reassuring
squeeze.

"But are you certain that you are doing the right thing?  Your family
will be very displeased by a runaway match--' " If I am Charles' wife I
shall have my whole happiness," Laura said confidently, her eyes
shining like stars, 'and though it grieves me to go against the wishes
of my family, I cannot lose that which is most precious to me!  Wish me
joy!"  She reached up to give Polly an impulsive kiss.

"I am so happy!"

"I wish you all the luck in the world," Polly said, a lump in her
throat at such transparent happiness.  "Now, you had best begone before
anyone else sees you!"

Laura paused on the edge of flight, fumbling in the deep pocket of the
coat.

"Oh, I almost forgot!  I was going to leave this with a servant, but
perhaps you would be so good... It is for Henry, but please do not give
it to him until the end of the evening.  I could not bear for him to
worry about me, but rather that than that he should catch up with
us!"

The letter was crisp and smooth between Polly's fingers.  She watched
Laura's hurrying shadow disappear along the colonnade.  Polly was not
sure how long she stood there alone in the darkness, but it was long
enough for the glow of the carriage lights to fade away between the
trees.

"Do not give it to him until the end of the evening..."  She did not
want to break her word to Laura, but even less could she lie to Henry
or keep a secret from him.  She thrust the letter into the bodice of
her dress and walked slowly across the cobbled yard towards the barn.
There had been a break in the dancing whilst the guests partook of
supper and Polly spotted Henry quickly, deep in conversation with Nick
Sea- grave.  As she hesitated to approach them.  Henry looked up and
their eyes met.  Sea grave said something, smiled and sauntered away,
leaving Henry alone.

"My lord, I must speak with you... There is a very urgent matter--'
Polly was amazed to find that she was out of breath, sounding quite
shaken.

"It concerns your sister--' Henry's attention sharpened.  He took her
hands in a strong grasp.

"Concerning Laura?  What is it?  You are shaking, Lady Polly!  What can
be the matter?"

Polly glanced around instinctively.  Most of the guests were
preoccupied with the serious business of eating and drinking, but a few
glances were being cast their way.

"Not here," she said softly.

"I have a letter for you.  It is a delicate matter..."

Henry nodded, offering her his arm.

"Perhaps you will be good enough to show me your father's sculpture
collection before supper.  Lady Polly?  I have heard tell that it is
very fine."

It was dark outside and not secluded enough for a private
conversation.

They re-crossed the courtyard hastily and went in through the long
library doors.  The library was in near darkness, only one branch of
candles throwing its shadowy light over the sculpture which was indeed
accounted very beautiful.  Henry shut the door behind them and Polly
moved to light some more candles.  From a purely practical point of
view.  Henry would hardly be able to decipher his sister's script in
the gloom.  Her hands shook a little as she lit the wavering flame and
turned back to him.

Henry was standing with his back to the door and Polly felt once again
the little leap of her heart that his presence always caused.

"Here."  She took the letter from the bodice of her gown and passed it
over, still warm from the contact with her skin.

"You will be wanting to read it in peace, I am sure, my lord--' But
she was not to get away so easily.

"Just a moment--' Lord Henry said, sounding preoccupied.  He had
already unfolded the missive and scanned its brief contents, but when
he looked up at Polly, his gaze was intent.

"When did Laura give this to you?"

Polly glanced at the clock.

"No more than fifteen minutes ago, my lord."

"Then why does she imagine that I will be reading it several hours
hence?"

He tapped the letter.

"She states quite clearly here that she will have been gone for several
hours, yet you say it is only fifteen minutes!  I could catch them up
quite easily if I chose!"

"Yes."  Polly struggled a little, wishing she had beaten a retreat
sooner, 'that is.  she asked me to give it to you in a little while
but--' She broke off with a slight gesture.

"I thought that you should know at once--' Polly stopped again.  This
was coming out all wrong and Henry was frowning deeply as he watched
her.

"Why?"  he demanded.

"Were you so determined that I should put a stop to this?  I have not
forgotten your aversion to elopements!"

"No!"  Polly was stung.

"It is unfair of you to bring that matter up between us again, my lord!
I wish Lady Laura every good fortune!  But I could not just stand by
with your letter for a few hours and then give it to a servant to pass
to you and pretend that it had not been in my possession all the time!
I just hoped that you would make the right decision--' She broke off. "
Truly, my lord,"

she finished, a little desperately, 'it is best that I leave you to
consider matters."

"No," Henry said firmly, "I do not think so."  He was leaning on Sea
grave's beautiful inlaid walnut desk and was still frowning.

"There is a mystery here which I feel must be unravelled.  Laura gave
you the letter and asked that you give it to me in a few hours' time,
to give them a good head start.  You say that you wish them well and
indeed it must be so, for in here--' he flicked the letter as it lay on
the desk '--she also says that you advised her most kindly to follow
her heart."  The look he gave her was sardonic.  "I cannot believe you
to have indulged in such double-dealing, Lady Polly, that you advise my
sister to elope and then immediately give her away!  Pray, sit down and
explain the matter to me!"

Polly glanced across at the door.  It seemed so much easier just to run
away, except for the conviction that Henry would probably run after her
and bring her back, and cause a scandal in the process.  The deepening
smile on his face suggested that he had guessed her thoughts--all of
them.

She sat down on one of the elegant gilt sofas and tried to marshal her
thoughts.

"It is true that Lady Laura confided in me her feelings for Mr Far
rant,"

she admitted, 'and also that I was aware of the objections of her
family to the match.  You and I have discussed as much!  I do not know
what part your sister has assigned to me in all this, but I freely
admit that my advice to her was that she should do what she thought was
right.  She has more determination than I ever did at her age--she knew
what she wanted and now she has taken it, and I wish her all the luck
in the world in her choice!  " "Then why did you pass me her letter so
swiftly?"  Henry asked.

"You must know that I could stop them if I chose."  He had come round
the desk and taken the chair opposite Polly's, watching her all the
while.

Polly was intensely conscious of his intent gaze resting thoughtfully
on her face.

She prayed that it was too dark for him to read her expression.  This
was the most difficult part.

"I did not wish to deceive you," she said candidly.  "Whilst I wish
your sister success and happiness, it was more important to me that you
should know of her actions and choose for yourself.  If you decide to
go after them I shall be very sorry, but I will still feel that I did
the right thing in entrusting the letter to you now rather than
later."

There was a little silence.  Polly's face was growing hot under that
unrelenting scrutiny.

"A little late in the day to be speaking of trust between us," Henry
said drily.

"You must forgive me.  Lady Polly, if I find it difficult to accept
that you are finally trusting me with information in the belief that I
will do the right thing.  There have been other occasions, arguably
more important, when you did not show any such confidence in me!"

Polly clasped her hands together tightly.

"If you are speaking of my engagement to Mr Dit ton then I can only
concede that you are right, my lord.  However, if we must indulge in
recriminations, allow me to say that you are hardly blameless yourself
Henry smiled slightly.

"Your point.  Lady Polly!  But it is a little different.  I would have
done anything I could to save you from Dit ton."

"Almost anything," Polly said sweetly.

"Let us not rake over the past, my lord, for we shall only quarrel!  It
seems that you cannot forgive me my lack of trust and I resent that you
did not fully confide in me!

 Un trusted and untrustworthy both!  But will you go after your
sister?  " Henry shook his head slowly.

"No, I will not.  I never opposed the match, although I cannot deny
that it will cause a great deal of trouble.  But..."  he sighed 'it is
not my choice to spoil Laura's happiness!  " Polly let out a long,
unsteady breath.

"Oh, thank you!"

"And," Henry added, with the ghost of a smile, 'as long as neither of
us admits that we knew of the elopement only fifteen minutes after it
occurred, we may avoid any censure!  " For a moment they were drawn
into a tenuous alliance.  Polly felt hope and despair stir in equal
measure.  Was this how it was always to be, forever wanting more,
hoping for more, when Henry had made it clear that he could not forgive
her lack of faith in him and she had just demonstrated that she still
blamed him for telling her only half a story?

It seemed heartbreaking.

"I must go," she said, a little uncertainly.

"Mama will be wondering, and I have had no supper..."

Henry stirred a little in his chair.

"I shall bid you farewell then, Lady Polly.  I am returning to London
tomorrow.  Perhaps you will be in Town for the Little Season?"

"Perhaps," Polly echoed dully.  She felt her spirits sink like a
stone.

There would be the Little Season and then the following Season and the
year after, forever in Lord Henry's company, forever set apart from
him, summers in Bright on, or Bath, or Dilling ham, becoming the
spinster aunt, wearing the willow forever.  She swallowed hard.

"Good night, my lord," she said.

Chapter Eighteen qtqtsq i here was a curious air of quiet about
Dilling ham Court the following day.  Both Lucille and the Dowager
Countess stayed in bed resting, but Polly found herself full of a
restless energy that compelled her out of doors.

After breakfast, she took her watercolours down to the lake and sat in
the summerhouse trying to paint, but somehow she could not transfer the
pretty pastoral scene onto her paper and tore up her efforts in a fit
of temper.  It seemed that she would not find solace for her broken
heart through her painting.

The lake was very calm under the blue sky of early autumn, but the air
was warm and the sky was heavy with gathering rain.  The light was
interesting and Polly was frustrated that she could not convey it onto
paper.  She put down her brush and leant her elbows on the railing,
watching the distant clouds roll towards her.  With a sigh, she pushed
her paints to one side.  A quiet walk was almost always enjoyable,
although she would have to be careful that she did not get caught in
the rain.

She took the path that skirted the lake, walking slowly down towards
the River De ben.  The breeze whispered softly in the grass and stirred
the leaves on the trees.  It seemed almost unnaturally quiet.  The
river was running quickly, little eddies pushing at the muddy bank and
lapping at the soles of Polly's shoes.  She could see the roof of the
fishing-house a little further downstream, and wandered towards it.

The skies opened almost as suddenly as they had done that day at
Shingle Street, and the rain began in a steady downpour.  By the time
Polly reached the fishing- house, she was drenched and hurried towards
the shelter it provided.  The door swung open with one touch of her
hand and, as before, she stepped into the dim interior.

Unlike the last time, the pool was empty.  The mermen and mermaids
watched her with blank eyes.  There was total silence.  Polly paused. A
completely insane idea took hold of her.  She had gone sea bathing with
the Dowager Countess at Bright on the previous summer and had enjoyed
the fresh sensation of the cool water.  Of course, the pool was not
like the sea, but it would be most refreshing and she was already
soaked through.

Without further thought, she stripped off her dress and, wearing only
her chemise, eased herself into the plunge pool.  The chill of the
water made her gasp, but once she had become accustomed to it, it was
immensely invigorating.  Closing her eyes, she floated on her back,
listening to the drumming of the rain on the wooden roof above her head
and enjoying the curious sensation of being immersed in water whilst it
poured down outside.

She could feel her hair floating free of its pins and almost laughed
aloud.

How delightful to feel so free from inhibition, to indulge herself,
relish the sensation.  She was almost happy.

She opened her eyes, gasped, swallowed what felt like a gallon of water
and almost choked.  Through streaming eyes she could quite clearly make
out the laughing face of Lord Henry March night as he stood beside the
pool looking down at her.  As she struggled to regain her breath, he
crouched down by the pool's edge and caught one of her arms, holding
her above water.

"Dear me.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry said mildly, 'just when I thought it
impossible that you could surprise me, I find myself being utterly
astounded!

" To Polly's relief.  Lord Henry behaved with perfect chivalry.  He
made no comment about her state of undress but found her a huge, soft
blanket to wrap about her and cover her modesty.  Then he almost undid
all his good work.

"You will find me an adequate lady's maid, I am sure," he said with a
grin.

"I have had some practice at such things!"

The colour flooded Polly's cheeks and she pulled the blanket closer.

"I am in no doubt as to that!"  she said tartly.

Henry was still grinning unrepentantly as his gaze took in her tousled
hair and pink face.

"You look utterly delightful.  Lady Polly!  Perhaps you would care to
join me on the balcony whilst you dry off?"

Before Polly had chance to demur and effect a discreet withdrawal, he
had scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the ladder and out on
to the balcony.  There was another blanket and a couple of cushions on
the bare boards and the remains of what looked like Henry's breakfast.
For a long time they sat together under the shelter of the eaves,
watching the rain upon the river.  Neither of them spoke.  Polly was
possessed by the most extraordinary feeling of peacefulness and did not
wish to break the spell.

Eventually the rain retreated and the first streaks of pale blue sky
appeared again.  She stirred.

"Whatever are you doing here, Harry?  I thought that you had gone..."

Henry gestured towards the rod and line lying discarded on the edge of
the balcony.

"I was fishing:-- until you came to disturb the peace of my retreat!"
He hesitated.

"Truth to tell, I was thinking..."  He shot Polly a glance.

"I was coming to see you later, but you have beaten me to it."

The sun came out suddenly, swirling across the dark river water and
dazzling them.

Polly suddenly found that she could not meet his eyes.

"What were you coming to discuss with me?"  she asked shyly, tracing a
pattern in the dust with one finger.

"I thought--last night you intimated that there was nothing more to
say."

Henry shifted a little, leaning back against the wall.  "Yes, that was
wicked of me.  I could no more lose you now than I could cut out a part
of myself.

Please--' suddenly there was raw feeling in his voice '--tell me that
we may put all the misunderstanding and misery behind us and that you
will marry me."

At last Polly was able to look at him, but with astonishment rather
than anything else.

"But I haven't had chance to explain why I did not tell you--' she
began.

"I don't need explanations."  Henry took her hand in his and drew her
closer.

"I knew last night that you trusted me enough for me to be the first
one you came to with a secret.  That is enough for me.  I know that you
must love me as much as I love you."

"Harry--' Polly's voice broke.

"I believe you are almost too forgiving..."

His strained face broke into a smile.

"Do you feel that I should castigate you for the business with Tristan
Dit ton?  I had felt that we had grown closer over the past few months
and the business with Dit ton did set me back."  He grimaced.

"I did not understand-- still do not, to tell the truth--why you could
not confide in me.  You must have known that I would not have shamed
Miss Mark ham by making the knowledge public, and yet you did not trust
me--' The pain in his voice caused Polly to look up at last.

"I wanted to tell you," she said hesitantly.

"That night at the assembly, I was on the verge of telling when Tristan
came in and put a stop to our conversation.  I know I should have
trusted you more--all those times I doubted you, the foolishness over
the smuggling, my suspicions over your activities in London--you must
think me so stupid!"  Her voice broke.  "I don't know why I could not
commit myself, Harry... I was so close to trusting you, yet I always
held back, perhaps because I have loved you for so long that I could
not bear to take the final risk and gamble on losing it all!  I found
it very difficult to forgive myself for refusing you all those years
ago!"

Henry slid an arm around her and pulled her to him so that her head
rested comfortingly against his shoulder.

"I must take my share of blame," he said, very softly.

"I fostered the impression of a wastrel and a rake, which is scarcely
the kind of behaviour that would encourage a gently bred girl to rely
on me!  I could have warned you about Dit ton--I knew you would not
tell anyone, but I was afraid that you would not be able to behave
naturally in his company if you knew he was a criminal.  If I had to
take the same decision now, I would have to do the same..."

"I know," Polly said softly.  Henry looked so wretched that she touched
his cheek.

"You did the right thing.  When I was thinking about it all last night,
I remembered how you had risked the whole endeavour to save me in the
riot in London.  You must have cared a great deal to do that for
me..."

They sat quietly for a long time.  Henry's arm warm about her, his
cheek rough against the smoothness of hers.

"Polly," Henry said at last, his voice muffled against her hair, 'you
have not yet agreed to marry me!  " "Oh!"  Polly turned to him and
their lips met with a tenderness that was both sweet and instinctive.

"I assume," Henry said, much later, 'that that is an acceptance.  I
should not allow another rejection anyway!  " Polly snuggled closer to
him.

"How much time we have wasted!  When may we be married.  Harry?"

"In the interests of making up for lost time," Henry said seriously,

"I

suggest the wedding should be very soon.  Tomorrow, perhaps?  " Polly
sat up and stared at him in confusion.

"Tomorrow?  But how--' " I thought, perhaps, that you might be
persuaded to elope with me.  " Polly looked at him for a long time.

"You mean-- to come away with you now?"  she asked, a little
breathlessly.

"But--' She saw the faint look of withdrawal that came into his
eyes.

"I

understand if you do not wish to do so--' "No!"  Polly put out a hand
quickly and touched his.  It was suddenly essential to make him
understand.  "Henry, listen.  I will gladly go with you.  I would
follow you anywhere, or do anything you asked."  The tears gathered in
her eyes.

"Oh, I am so very happy to have the chance to run away with you!"

Suddenly they were both laughing like children, tumbled back once more
in each other's arms.

"I had not intended to go to Gretna," Henry said after more kisses had
been exchanged, 'but my home at Ruth ford is but a day's journey from
here, and I have a special licence and a priest who would be very happy
to marry off another of the March night brood!  Indeed, I imagine he
would be particularly glad to officiate at my wedding since he has been
deploring my bachelor life this age!  " Polly stood up.

"I had best return to the Court and gather my belongings.

Oh!  " She looked down at the blanket still clutched about her.

"I had forgotten--my dress is still by the pool!  I can hardly return
to the house like this or we would have to be married even sooner to
avoid Mama falling into the va pours!"  She looked suddenly shy.

"Will you help me down the steps.  Harry?"

Henry got to his feet.

"Of course--but take care that the blanket does not slip!"

He tactfully stepped outside whilst Polly was donning her dress again,
and gave her a critical look-over when she emerged into the sunshine.

"Not bad, although I do not think it would stand the scrutiny of a
discerning eye!  You could always tell them the truth, of course!"

 Polly came close to him.

"I should like to be able to tell Lucille and Nicholas where I am
going," she said, a little hesitantly.

"I know it seems strange, but..."

Henry gave her a brief kiss.

"If you wish to do so, let it be so.  I am confident they will not stop
us."

Polly had one last question.

"Henry..."  She did not quite raise her gaze to his.

"If'we are to be married tomorrow, what happens tonight?"

When she finally looked up into his face it was to see a mixture of
amusement and speculation that made her blush all over again.

"What do you think?"  he said.

It was just over an hour later that the Earl of Sea- grave, striding in
at the door of Dilling ham Court, was distracted by the sound of his
own mother in strong hysterics.  Hastening into the drawing-room, he
found the Dowager prostrate on the sofa and Lucille hovering with a
bottle of smelling salts whilst the Dowager's maid tried ineffectually
to calm her mistress and Peter and Hetty stood helplessly by.

"Nicholas!"  the Dowager Countess said, immediately sitting up and
recovering at the sight of her elder son, "Do something!  Your sister
is eloping with Lord Henry March night!  I have seen them with my own
eyes--the carriage has been gone but five minutes!"

Nicholas Sea grave strolled over to the table and poured himself a
glass of wine.

"But, Mama, I thought that you liked Lord Henry!  You have been forever
praising him these months past!"

There was a snort of laughter from Lucille, quickly suppressed.  Peter
bit his lip and Hetty turned a smile into a sort of cough.

 The Dowager looked outraged.

"Like him!  Of course I like him!  He is precisely the sort of man I
would wish to marry Polly!  But what is that to the purpose, pray?  She
is to be married at St.  George's, Hanover Square!

I have it all planned!  " The Dowager wrung her hands.

"The foolish chit told me that they were mnning away together, and when
I told her that there was not the least need to do so, she told me that
there was every need!  I have no notion what she meant!"

Nicholas's eyes met Lucille's and they exchanged a smile of
complicity.

"Do something, Nicholas!"  the Dowager besought again.

Nicholas crossed to his wife's side and took her hand.

"But Mama, there is nothing more I can do!  I had already met them at
the gates and offered them the use of my travelling carriage!  Harry
assured me that they should make Ruth ford late tonight and are to be
married in the morning!"

The Dowager Countess gave a muffled squeak.  "Tonight!  But Polly is
unchaperoned!  Even if they are to be married tomorrow, what is to
happen tonight?"

There was a brief silence.  Peter and Hetty studiously avoided each
other's gaze.  Nicholas Sea grave raised his eyebrows.

"What do you think?"  he said.

It was early evening when they reached Ruth ford.  Polly had fallen
asleep on the journey, her head resting on Henry's shoulder, and awoke
just as the carriage pulled up in front of the house.  She had a
confused impression of mellow stone and part-timbering before Henry
ushered her up the steps and into the hall, handing her over to his
housekeeper, Mrs Owen, to show her to her room.  They ate alone in a
small but tastefully appointed dining-room and, after the meal, took a
turn along the terrace as dusk was falling.  Away to the west the
clouds were building and Polly shivered at the sound of distant
thunder.

"I have spoken to Father Beck ham and he is very happy to marry us in
the morning," Henry said conversationally.

"You are very quiet, Polly.  I hope..."  he took Polly's cold hand in
his warm one 'that it is not a sign that you have changed your mind!  "
The warmth of his touch helped to reassure Polly.  "It is just that it
seems so strange," she said excusingly, 'and so unexpected, for all
that I have been wanting to marry you these five years past!  And
suddenly we are alone.

" "Yes."  Henry tucked her hand comfortingly through his arm.

"It is bound to seem a little strange at first.  Perhaps we should
retire to the drawing-room and I shall read my paper and you may essay
a little needlepoint, and we shall be like any old married couple!"

Polly laughed.

"I had no idea that marriage to you would be such a dull affair, my
lord!

Perhaps I should change my mind--' " Too late," Henry said
cheerfully.

"You are compromised beyond redemption, I fear, and..."  he drew her
closer 'should there be any doubt I should be happy to confirm that I
had seduced you thoroughly!  " "I wonder how Hetty and Peter ever came
to--,?"  Polly broke off, blushing rosily.

"Well, no doubt I should not speculate..."

"Were you shocked when the truth came out?"

Polly considered.

"Not shocked, precisely, at least not at what they had done.  It
was... understandable.  But I was surprised and perhaps a little--' "
Envious?  " Henry's grey eyes held a spark of mischief.

"A pity then, that we are to be so respectably married on the
morrow!"

"There is always tonight," Polly said, casting him a look under her
lashes.

Their eyes met in a long moment of tension, then Henry shook his head
reluctantly.

"For once in my life I am determined to behave in an honourable
fashion!"

he said.

It did not seem, however, that Henry's scruples prevented him from
kissing Polly goodnight in the most thorough way imaginable.  They made
slow progress back inside and up the wide wooden staircase, entwined as
they were in each other's arms.  They stopped again outside Polly's
bedroom door.

"What marvellously discreet servants you have, Harry," Polly
observed.

"No doubt they are accustomed to melting away as soon as you appear
with a lady who is not your wife!"

"Minx!"  Henry pulled her into his arms.

"They are all well aware that tomorrow you will become Lady Polly March
night!"

He kissed her gently, lovingly.  It was not what Polly wanted.  She
parted her lips beneath his, rejoicing as she felt the kiss turn from
sweetness to sensual demand.  Henry, that notorious rake, had exercised
endless self-control in his dealings with her and she was determined to
make him lose his restraint.

"I protest," she said against his lips, 'that your reputation is
undeserved.

Harry!  You are no rake--' In reply, he turned his mouth back to hers
driving out all thought with the explosive demand of his lips and his
hands.  When he finally let her go, Polly had to lean back against the
door frame to steady herself.  Henry stood back very deliberately.

"Enough!  I must go--' Polly had her hand on the doorknob and the door
was already half-open.  As Henry turned away she said, very softly,
"Henry, I am afraid of the thunder.  Don't leave me..."

She saw him hesitate, and smile, before he took her arm, drew her
through the doorway, and closed the door very firmly behind them.

Neither of them heard the thunderstorm that raged about the house,
being too concerned with the storm within.  At some point during the
night, when the thunder had died away.  Henry stirred and raised
himself on one elbow.

"The storm has gone," he said softly.

"Would you wish me away, madam, now that you need be afraid no
longer?"

Polly could hear the smile in his voice.  She reached out to pull him
to her.

"I have not mentioned it before, my love, but I am afraid of the dark.
I fear you must stay with me until the morning!"

In the light of the new day, Polly woke again and spoke drowsily.

"Henry?  Do you still wish to marry me?"

Henry leant across to kiss her.

"More than ever now, my love!  Who would have thought that marriage
would promise to be so enjoyable!"

Polly glanced across at the clock.  Somehow they had never managed to
draw the bed curtains.

"At what hour is the wedding?"

 "At ten o'clock, the earliest that I thought that we could
respectably arrange it..."  Henry's kisses were becoming more
persuasive, more determined.  Polly pushed him away.

"That would be the ten o'clock that was a half hour ago?"

Henry sat bolt upright.

"Good God!  It cannot be ten-thirty already?"  He put his head in his
hands.

"How could I miss my own wedding as a result of being in bed with my
future wife?  Father Beck ham will be saying prayers for my immortal
soul!"

Polly leant across to give him a consoling kiss.

"I am persuaded that he knows you so well, Harry, that he would expect
no less of you!"  she said.

is * * * *

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Available at most branches of WH Smith, Tesco, Asda, Martins, Borders,
Easons, Volume One James Thin and most good paperback book shops Lord
Henry made a slight, dismissive gesture.

"What could a rake wish for from a lady on a providentially empty
terrace?"

Understanding came to Polly at the very last moment.  She had once
quite ached for Lord Henry to kiss her as long as it had been in a
completely undemanding fashion.  Some chaste but impassioned salutation
had been the height of her aspirations.

This kiss might have been impassioned, but in no way could it be
described as chaste.  Lord Henry brought her into sudden, shocking
contact with his body.

His mouth captured hers with the ruthless skill of the expert, parting
her lips so that her gasp was lost.

Nicola Cornick is passionate about many things: her country cottage
and its garden, her two small cats, her husband and her writing, though
not necessarily in that order!  She has always been fascinated by
history, both as her chosen subject at university and subsequently as
an engrossing hobby.

She works as a university administrator and finds her writing the
perfect antidote to the demands of life in a busy office.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE LARKS WOOD INHERITANCE THE VIRTUOUS CYPRIAN

LADY POLLY

Nicola Co mickdypolly

MILLS &- B 0 0 N <

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Manufacturing Ltd, Glasgow Prologue QnyQ 1812 You're a damned fool.
Henry!  " Simon Verey leant on the table and addressed his friend in
tones that would have led Henry March night to call him out under any
other circumstances.

"Leave it a few weeks--a month, even--for everyone to lose interest in
Miss Jacques's vicious rum ours!  If you go to Lady Paulersbury's rout
tonight, they'll make mincemeat of you!"

Lord Henry's only response was a rather lopsided grin as he tilted his
head to consider the intricate folds of his violet cravat in the
mirror.

"The Napoleon," he mused.

"Rather a neat style, don't you think, Simon?

Languishing and romantic, as is appropriate for this evening!  Do you
think that it will bring me the luck of the French?  " "In love or in
war?"  Verey asked drily.

Lord Henry's only reply was another smile.

"I regret that I cannot take your advice, Simon," he continued.

"I must see Lady Polly Sea grave tonight.

I am hoping that I may still persuade her to consent to be my wife.  "
Verey's lips tightened.  He had seen that reckless look in his friend's
grey eyes before and knew it promised trouble.  There was something
both tense and watchful about Lord Henry's elegantly clad form, some
element held under the barest control.  And Verey understood his
desperation, but he thought Henry had miscalculated.

"They'll never let you near her," he prophesied grimly.

"Good God, the whole Town thinks that you have tried to debauch Miss
Jacques, then proposed marriage to Lady Polly for her fortune only a
day later!

You'll be ripped to pieces.  Henry!"

Lord Henry shrugged.

"Lady Polly would never believe such a thing of me, Simon.  I know she
would have accepted my suit had the Earl not refused to countenance
it!"

Verey shook his head.  What madness could have possessed Lord Henry to
ask the starchy old Earl of Sea grave for his daughter's hand in
marriage whilst such un savoury, albeit untrue, rum ours were being
circulated?  He must have known that the Earl was so high in the instep
that he would never sanction a match between his only daughter and a
man who had been branded a philanderer and deceiver.

With its usual appetite for scandal.  Society had been quick to seize
upon the accusations of Miss Sally Jacques that Henry March night had
promised her marriage and then attempted to seduce her.  Verey knew
that Miss Jacques was the daughter of a Cit who had attempted to
establish herself amongst the ton and whose disappointment at being
unable to bring Henry up to scratch had led to this ill-considered
revenge.

 Verey also knew that most of Society thought Miss Jacques an ill-bred
mushroom and that interest in the story would wane very swiftly.  If
only Henry had exercised his usual cool detachment!  But in his very
real passion for Lady Polly Sea grave he seemed uncharacteristically
hasty, unable to wait even a few days for matters to cool.  Simon was
prepared to support his friend, but he was certain that the evening
would be deeply unenjoyable.

Their reception at Lady Paulersbury's was everything Verey had
predicted and worse.  Silence fell as Lord Henry March night was
announced.  Men whom he had counted his friends pointedly turned their
backs.  Some women whispered maliciously behind their fans, whilst
others drew aside from him with disgusted expressions.  There was a
moment when Lord Henry was certain Lord Paulersbury was about to have
him horsewhipped from the house before his wife's more temperate
counsel prevailed.  But he was treated as a social pariah, ignored or
ridiculed, and it was a profoundly unpleasant and uncomfortable
experience.

Lady Polly Sea grave saw Lord Henry's tall figure across the ballroom
and was immediately certain that he had come to seek her out.  She
caught her breath.

To have dared so much public opprobrium, just for the chance of speech
with her!  He must know that her father had forbidden them to meet and
the entire Town was reviling him over the scandal of Miss Jacques.

Polly burned with outraged fury at the treatment Sally Jacques had
meted out to Lord Henry.  Sally and Polly had once been friends, before
Miss Jacques's jealousy at Lord Henry's partiality for Polly had
driven a wedge between them.  Sally had contrived that her carriage had
broken down in the vicinity of Lord Henry's home at Ruth ford and had
imposed on his hospitality overnight so that she had compromised them
both.  In vain had Lord Henry argued that Miss Jacques's companion and
his own servants had provided ample chaperonage and that nothing
untoward had occurred.  Public opinion, carefully encouraged by Miss
Jacques and her chaperon with their hints at false proposals and
attempted seduction, was firmly of the belief that he should have made
her an offer.  His refusal to do so proved him to be no gentleman.  It
was not long before the true facts of the case had been turned inside
out and Henry March night was denounced as a scoundrel and seducer.

A few days before, when Polly had heard the harmful gossip repeated by
two salacious matrons, she had burst out that it was all malicious
lies.

Immediately their watchful gaze had turned thoughtfully on her.  Her
mother had pulled Polly to one side.

"Be quiet, you silly girl!"  Lady Sea grave had hissed in Polly's
ear.

"You will have them thinking that Lord Henry has debauched you too!"

"Lord Henry has not debauched anyone!"  Polly had muttered furiously,
but she kept her voice discreetly low for all her vehemence.

"He is an honourable man!"

For a moment Lady Sea grave had looked almost sorry for her daughter.

"Lord Henry may be as honourable as you please, but no one will believe
it now!

And that is because they do not want to believe it, for the tale is so
much more interesting than the truth.

 So you will be a good girl and have no more to do with him!  " For a
moment Polly had looked mutinous.  Lord Henry had always behaved as a
perfect gentleman towards her.  She was more than half in love with
him.

But she had already had her father explain, very clearly and kindly,
just why he could not entertain Lord Henry's suit.  And Polly was only
eighteen, and accustomed to obeying her parents unquestioningly in
everything.  And now Lady Sea grave had caught her arm, turning her
away so that Lord Henry's curiously compelling grey gaze could no
longer disturb her so.

"You must not acknowledge him," she murmured, whilst keeping a spurious
social smile fixed on her face for the benefit of those about them who
were watching with a keen interest.

Polly knew her mother was only acting with the best of intentions.  A
young lady's good name was so fragile and scandal so contaminating. She
had seen how a reputation could become so tarnished that a girl would
become quite unmarriageable.  But she was torn by her burgeoning
feelings for Lord Henry.

She had never been in love before and he had wooed her throughout the
Season, so gently, so carefully.  His attentions had never overstepped
the mark and when he smiled at her with all the warmth and tenderness
that spoke more clearly than any words, Polly felt deliciously safe and
cherished.

She reluctantly allowed her mother to shepherd her away, but could not
resist a quick glance over her shoulder.  Lord Henry was still watching
her.  Polly gave a pleasurable little shiver of excitement, but at the
same time a fris son of nerves prompted her to hope that he would not
make a scene or press his attentions on her.  That would be deliciously
romantic but rather difficult to handle.  Polly was not at all sure
that she could cope with impassioned protestations of love.

It was much later in the evening when Lord Henry finally managed to get
Polly on her own.  Throughout the ball, she had been aware of his
presence, the deceptively casual way in which he was watching her all
the time.  But she was never left alone.  Lady Sea- grave, a very
dragon of propriety where her only daughter was concerned, seemed to
follow her everywhere until Polly told her with asperity that she was
quite capable of visiting the ladies' withdrawing room alone.

It was on her way back that Lord Henry seized his chance, materialising
in the deserted corridor and drawing her into an empty room before
Polly even had time to catch her breath.  It was vastly exciting, but
also rather frightening.  There was something driven about Lord Henry
that evening, Polly thought, something so resolute that it made her
quail and find him almost a stranger.  She was not accustomed to strong
emotion.  The Sea grave household was run with apparent harmony and the
Earl would never have countenanced any vulgar display of feeling.

Polly knew very little about love; she loved her parents with a dutiful
respect, and knew, far more scandalously, that her brothers had both at
one time or another had in keeping certain ladies on whom they lavished
their affections.  That, Polly had once overheard her mother darkly
telling another matron, had very little to do with love at all.  And
here was Lord Henry March night, burning with another type of romantic
passion.  His intensity frightened her.

"Lord Henry!"  Polly's voice trembled a little.

"You know my father has forbidden me to speak with you--' He took both
her hands in his, his intent grey gaze fixed on her face.

"I

know it!  But I had to see you!  You know that he has refused my suit,
but we cannot let that make us part!  Come away with me, my love!  If
you will trust yourself to me--' But Polly had taken a hasty step back,
freeing her hands from his grasp.

She had paled visibly, her cheeks as white as the pristine foulard at
her throat.  "Run away with you?  But--' " You must know that I love
you!  Say you'll marry me!  " For a moment Polly wavered.  He was
taking her by storm, so ardent, so impassioned that she was tempted.
But her feelings were barely awakened and everything in her upbringing
conspired against him.  His very ardour alienated her.  He knew, a
moment before she recoiled, that she was going to refuse him.

"Oh, no, indeed I could not!  My father ... the scandal... only
think--' Polly's eyes were huge with the horror of it.  She broke off
at the expression on Lord Henry's face, suddenly aware that she might
have been a little precipitate.  Those grey eyes, so warm and tender
before, were now so stony and withdrawn that Polly bit her lip.  It was
like looking into the face of a complete stranger.

The tears came into her eyes.  She had a sudden conviction that she had
just carelessly thrown away something infinitely precious, without
truly under standing exactly what it was.  She put out a tentative
hand, but Lord Henry was already turning away.

"Polly!"  The awesome tones were those of Lady Sea grave, who stood in
the shadows, furious fire kindling in her dark eyes.

"Come here at once!  I knew I could not trust you on your own!  And as
for you, sir--' She turned on Lord Henry, but he was already leaving.
He sketched an immaculately elegant bow, first to the Countess and then
to Polly.

"You need have no fears for your daughter at my hands, ma'am," he said,
his tone one of frigid courtesy.

"I give you my word that I shall never approach her again."  And he was
gone, leaving Polly with the comfort of her familiar world and a
totally unfamiliar feeling of desolation in her heart.

Chapter One QysQ 1817 Sir Godfrey Or bison did not understand women.

Never having entered the bond of matrimony and being devoid of close
female relatives to guide him, he was ill-equipped to deal with a
goddaughter he considered to be both foolish and ungrateful.

"You refused him because you did not love him?"  Sir Godfrey's black
brows beetled together and he glared fiercely at Lady Polly Sea grave,
his tone incredulous.

"What is that to the purpose, pray?  A fine situation if one had to
love one's intended spouse!  The material point is that he is heir to
the Duke of Bel lars, and as such must be a better prospect than life
as a penniless spinster!  Aye, and a spinster who is fast approaching
her dotage!"

The Dowager Countess of Sea grave was fluttering her hands in distress,
but Lady Polly allowed herself a small smile, her elusive dimples
peeping for a moment.  She knew her godfather's ill temper would not
last long for he was incapable of bearing a grudge and was so fond of
her that she could get away with most things.  Turning down her fifth
suitor of the Season and the nineteenth eligible proposal of her life
was, however, testing his indulgence to the full.  And he was her
trustee, along with her elder brother, and as such could cut up rough
about her allowance if he chose.  In eighteen months she would be
twenty-five and should be mistress of her own fortune, but if Sir
Godfrey chose to make her a penniless spinster, it was within his legal
powers to do so.  Clearly some tact and charm was called for.

She dropped a small curtsy and smiled at her godfather beguilingly.

"Dearest Sir Godfrey, you have been like a father to me since my own
papa died, and I do thank you for all your guidance and advice!  But I
am persuaded that you could not really wish me to marry John Bel lars!
He is a pleasant enough man, if as dull as ditch water, but it is old
Lady Bel lars who would be the rub!  Why, she has him completely under
her thumb and is the most mean-spirited woman--' " Humph!  " Sir
Godfrey opined.

"And she is penny-pinching, too!"  The Dowager Countess of Sea grave
put in, hastily improving on her daughter's theme.

"I hear she keeps young John on a tight rein, for all that she has no
real control over his fortune!

And," she added artfully, with a flash of her dark eyes, 'was it not
Augusta Bel lars who tried to snare you in your salad days, Godfrey?
She pursued you quite violently, as I recall!  They were taking bets in
the clubs that she would catch you!"

Sir Godfrey's choleric gaze kindled again.

"Gussie Grantley!  Yes, b" God, I'd forgotten that!  Tiresome woman,
forever wheedling herself into my company, telling everyone there was
an understanding between us!  Well.  " he sighed heavily, 'can't be
doing with that connection in the family, then.  Why, she might view
this as a second chance to catch me!"

"It is not to be contemplated!"  The Dowager declared, smiling as much
with genuine amusement as relief.  The thought of the widowed Duchess
of Bel lars pursuing the elderly Sir Godfrey afforded her much secret
amusement.  In her experience, men often had a much-inflated view of
their own attractions.

Sir Godfrey's gaze had fallen on Polly again, demurely sitting with her
chin in her hand smiling at him.  Fond of her as he was, he was obliged
to view her as another example of an unsatisfactory female.

"All the same, Poll, this won't do, you know!  Nineteen suitors, all
worthy men, and not one of them up to your expectations!"  Sir Godfrey
cleared his throat, intent on delivering a homily.

"I thought that you would take Julian Morrish when he offered this
Season--damned... harrumph!  Dashed silly not to!  No better man in the
whole of London!  And Sea grave took Morrish's rejection that badly, I
know..."

The Dowager Lady Sea grave cleared her throat delicately.  She had been
quick to see her daughter's discomfort, for the colour had come rushing
into Polly's ivory complexion, making her look suddenly more animated
and much prettier.  That was how she used to look.  Lady Sea grave
thought with a sudden pang of regret, remembering a time five years
before, when her daughter had been a bright and vivacious debutante
rather than a cool and withdrawn young lady with a reputation for
pride.  The young Lady Polly had been an appealing girl, drawing quite
a following to her with her lustrous cloud of dark hair and expressive
brown eyes.  She had not lacked for offers, but none of them seemed to
meet her exacting standards.  No man in five years had been able to
persuade her of the merit of his suit.

As for Julian Morrish, that had indeed been an unfortunate affair and
one which had caused ill feeling within the family for several weeks
until Lucille, the Dowager's daughter-in-law, had interceded with her
husband to forgive Polly.  Nick Sea grave had been furious that his
close friend, Julian Morrish, had been rejected by his sister. Everyone
knew Morrish to be a fine man and one to whom no possible objection
could be made on the grounds of rank, consequence, fortune or
reputation.  Polly's behaviour had put a great strain on the friendship
between Sea grave and Morrish, and an even greater strain on
relationships within the family.  Polly's other brother, Peter, had
strolled into the breakfast-room one morning and remarked that he would
rather face the French again at Waterloo than be the butt of his
brother and sister's ill humour.

"I think, perhaps, that it would be wise for Polly to retire for a
little now.  Sir Godfrey," the Dowager Countess said hastily, seeing
that her daughter's colour was still high.

"We go to Lady Phillips's rid otto tonight, and you know how Polly
tires easily these days!  Polly, my love--' In response to her mother's
meaningful nod, Polly got up, pressed a kiss on Sir Godfrey's whiskery
face, and slipped out of the room.  Her spirits had taken a tumble. The
mention of Julian Morrish had been an unfortunate one.

Once out in the deserted entrance hall, Polly leaned against a marble
pillar and rested one hot cheek against its coolness.  She had known
that Sir Godfrey would be angry at Bel lars's dismissal, especially as
it followed on so swiftly from the fiasco of Julian Morrish.  And she
had been as upset as anyone at the necessity of rejecting Morrish,
knowing it would cause difficulties for Nicholas Sea grave in
particular.  Yet, she could not have accepted Morrish, not whilst the
spectre of Lord Henry March night persisted in imposing itself between
her and every eligible man she met.  A tear slid from the corner of one
of Polly's closed eyes and she swallowed what seemed to be a huge lump
in her throat.

Immediately after her estrangement from Lord Henry five years
previously, Polly had been in very low spirits.  She had berated
herself fiercely for the lack of courage and the lack of faith that had
led her to refuse to elope with Lord Henry.  She had a curious feeling
of loss, as though she had thrown away something priceless, something
that would never be recaptured.  The expression on Lord Henry's face as
he had left her that night, the stony withdrawal, the contempt for her
weakness, had haunted her for a long time.

It was only later, when she was older and understood her loss all the
more, that she realised that his love for her had been far more mature
than the girlish passion she had thought that she had felt for him. She
had simply not been ready to accept the full responsibility of his love
and all its implications, not ready to defy her family and run away
with him.

The most acute elements of her misery wore off with time, particularly
as Lord Henry was absent from Town much of the time and his path and
Polly's did not cross much for several years.  Whenever she heard news
of him it would invariably involve some highly coloured account of his
amatory adventures, for he appeared to have become a thorough-going
rake and wastrel.  Polly's heart ached when she heard the tales, as
though some part of her could not relinquish Henry for good.  And then,
the previous summer, her dormant feelings had been stirred into life
again.

Lord Henry had been in Suffolk that summer, at the same time that Polly
was at Dilling ham with her mother and brothers, and it was inevitable
that they should be in each other's company.  Each tried to avoid the
other as much as possible, their meetings made awkward by the history
that lay between them.

To Polly's horror, she had discovered that her childish infatuation had
somehow transformed itself over the years into a frighteningly strong
attachment.  She realised that Lord Henry had unconsciously influenced
her refusal of every offer of marriage over the past five years, and
that since she was unable to marry him now, she would marry no one.

The realisation made her even more self-conscious in his company and
she cursed her inability to match Henry's smooth detachment.  Her
original refusal to elope with him was now an awesome barrier between
them, making the re-establishment of cordial or at the least civil
relations between them well-nigh impossible.  When Lord Henry had said,
that fateful night, that he would never approach Polly again, he had
meant just that.  They were obliged to exchange a few words when they
met in public, but he seldom sought her out.  Then, of course, there
was his reputation as a rake, which made every chaperon blench.
Although many of his escapades were probably exaggerated, there was no
doubt that he had become very wild and would not be considered a
suitable escort for any unmarried lady.  And now, there was an even
more potent and unexpected reason why she could never hope to re-attach
his affections.  The sound of voices at the main door stirred Polly
from her thoughts.  She straightened up to see her sister-in-law
Lucille taking her leave of a couple on the doorstep and hurrying into
the hall, pulling off her gloves.  As Lucille's eyes adjusted to the
sudden shade, Polly came forward to greet her.

"Oh, Lucille, I am glad to see you back!"  Then, as her sister-in-law
fixed her with a rather too perceptive gaze, she said hastily, "Who
were those people?  They looked a little eccentric!"

Lucille laughed.

"The lady was a Mrs Go lightly, who is a friend of Miss Hannah More,
and was telling me all about her work with the Bettering Society!  They
work to improve the condition of the poor, you know!  And the gentleman
is a poet, Mr Cleymore, who is accounted quite good, I believe,
although I cannot understand his work!  They are complete originals,
but not people of fashion!"

"Who cares a button for that?"  Polly said stoutly.  One of the things
she particularly liked about Lucille was her lack of interest in
worldly concerns.  She would befriend people because she liked them,
support causes because she believed in them, and gently rebuke even the
most high-ranking Dowager who ventured to criticise her for her quaint
interests.  Lucille had grown in poise and confidence since her
marriage to Nicholas Sea grave, Polly thought now, but she retained the
innocent interest she had in everyone and everything.  It was a quality
that added to her novelty value in the eyes of the ton, who were always
seeking fresh amusement.  Lucille, with her slightly eccentric ways,
had been a gift to such jaded palates.  And the final titillation, of
course, was the dreadful, brassy Cyprian who was Lucille's twin and had
done her utmost to embarrass her sister, seeking her out at public
events and trying to hang on her coattails.  Lucille had dealt with all
the pitfalls most admirably, Polly thought with a smile, taking her
sister-in-law's arm and steering her towards the green drawing-room and
away from Sir Godfrey and the Dowager Countess.

"Do you have time to take tea with me?"  she asked hopefully, and
Lucille's observant blue eyes scanned her face once more.

"Of course!  Medlyn, tea for two in the Green Room, if you please!" She
turned back to Polly.

"But what has happened, Polly?  You look quite blue devilled!  Oh, I
know--' She wrinkled up her nose.  " John Bel lars has made you an
offer and you have refused him!  And.  " she cast a glance towards the
closed door of the blue drawing-room '..  your mother and Sir Godfrey
are on the high ropes over your behaviour!"

"Sir Godfrey has rung a peal over me," Polly admitted ruefully, as they
went into the Green Room.  "How did you know that Bel lars was about to
make me a declaration, Lucille?"

"I guessed," Lucille said serenely.

"And I suspected you would refuse him.

The only one I thought you might have accepted was Julian Morrish.  "
Polly sighed.

"I did think of accepting," she said reluctantly, 'for I like Julian
very well, and had I wanted a marriage based on mutual respect and
liking, it might have served.  But--' she shook her head '--I could not
do it, for--' "For you are still in love with Harry March night,"

 Lucille finished for her, disposing herself elegantly in a wing chair
and looking at her sister-in-law with a rueful amusement.

Feeling a prickle of envy at the casual way Lucille mentioned Lord
Henry, Polly sought to defend herself.

"It is not that I am in love with him, precisely--' The door opened to
admit Medlyn with the tea.  Lucille poured neatly and passed Polly a
cup.

Once she had thanked him and the door had closed again, Lucille turned
back to Polly.

"Come now, Polly, do you think you can cozen me?  It may be that you
originally suffered from a schoolroom infatuation for Lord Henry, but I
am sure you have discovered that this has turned to something far more
profound."

"You have not forgotten what I told you at Dilling ham in the autumn,"
Polly said sadly.

"I was being foolishly self-pitying!  It was simply that your own
wedding made me feel sorry for myself and I regretted the opportunity I
threw away!

But that was all over a long time ago!  It is of no consequence!"

Lucille studied her sister-in-law over the rim of her teacup.

"But I am concerned for your happiness, Polly!  All these gentlemen you
refuse are so very eligible and do not take their rejection lightly!
You know that you are getting a reputation for pride!  And what are you
to do if you do not marry?"

Polly shrugged, a gesture which her mother deplored.

"Oh, I shall devote myself to studying and good works!  And if I miss
the excitement of the Season in years to come, I shall set myself up as
a chaperon for daughters of rich cits wishing to marry well!"

Lucille sensibly chose to disregard most of this.  "Do you think," she
said carefully, 'that there is any likelihood of yourself and Lord
Henry making a match of it?  He has told me that he still holds you in
the greatest esteem--' But Polly was shaking her head violently.

"Oh, no, Lucille, that is impossible!  Why, I am sure he had nothing
but contempt for my poor-spirit ness in refusing to elope with him five
years ago and now I imagine he scarce thinks of me at all!"

She broke off, evading Lucille's eyes.  Impossible to explain to her
sister-in-law that the most potent reason that Lord Henry could no
longer have any interest in her was because he had quite obviously
formed a romantic attachment to Lucille herself.  Polly wondered just
how innocent Lucille could be.  She had no doubt that the attachment
was one-sided and entirely emotional rather than physical.  But how
could Lucille not have noticed that Lord Henry was forever in her
company, seeking her views and advice, valuing her opinion?  Why, even
Sea grave himself had commented humorously what a lap dog Harry March
night was becoming, forever following his wife about.

Polly searched rather desperately for a change of subject.

"Do you think that you shall be joining the Bettering Society,
Lucille?"

"Probably not," her sister-in-law answered.

"Nicholas has suggested that we travel a little at the end of the
Season, and since I am still awaiting my wedding trip, I thought to
encourage him!

But--' she returned to the previous subject with an obstinacy for which
she was well known '--we were speaking of you, Polly, not of myself! If
you truly feel that any awkwardness with Lord Henry must be in the past
now, why do the two of you spend all your time skulking behind trees or
pillars in an effort to avoid each other?

 It makes matters very difficult for the rest of us!  Why, Nicholas
was saying only the other day that he wished to ask Harry's advice on
those greys he was thinking of buying, but he hesitated in case you
accidently bumped into him!  Could you not speak to Lord Henry and put
an end to this, Polly?  " Polly stared in disbelief.

"Speak to him," she echoed faintly.

"Whatever can you mean, Lucille?  Oh, I could not!"

Lucille's brows rose at this missish response.  She knew that Lady
Appollonia Grace Sea grave was a well-brought-up and entirely orthodox
daughter of the nobility, but had not thought her merely a pretty ninny
hammer.

"Well, upon my word, I only meant that you should discuss matters with
him--clear the air!"  she repeated patiently.

"After all, you are both adults and cannot be forever behaving in this
foolish manner!  You yourself have said that it is all in the past!  I
apologise if I have offended your sensibility, but I should think that
one slightly embarrassing encounter must be a small price to pay to be
comfortable together in the future!  If you truly believe that there is
no hope for the two of you and you do not wish to try to reengage his
feelings, explain to Lord Henry that you have no wish to continue in
this absurd way and that you should both regard the past as over!  That
way you may start afresh as friends!"

Polly sighed, reaching for the teapot.  It was hopeless to try to
explain to Lucille that gently bred ladies simply did not seek a
gentleman out in order to engage him in a conversation of an intimate
and personal nature.

Disagreements such as the one Polly had with Lord Henry were simply to
be ignored or endured Lucille, who had earned a living as a
schoolteacher before her marriage to the Earl, had no time for what she
saw as the pointless prevarications of polite society, but Polly could
no more approach Lord Henry than fly to the moon.

torn are great friends with Harry March night," Polly said lightly,
trying not to let her envy show.

"I doubt I could achieve your familiarity with him!"

"No, but I am a married lady--' Lucille broke off at Polly's
irrepressible burst of laughter, arching her eyebrows enquiringly.

"Why, whatever have I said?"

"Married ladies are precisely the type Lord Henry prefers, so I
hear,"

Polly said drily.

"Oh, but--' For a moment Lucille looked confused, before regaining her
poise.

"Oh, no, it is not in the least like that\ I am glad to have Harry's
esteem, but that is all there is to it!  Why, to suggest anything else
would be pure folly!"

Polly smiled, unconvinced.  It was true that not even the ton, with its
penchant for intrigue, had suggested anything improper in the
relationship between the two, but that did not mean that Lord Henry
might not wish it so.

Lucille, totally absorbed in her husband, would be the last person to
realise.  Polly, thinking now of the consuming passion between Lucille
and Nick Sea grave, shifted slightly in her chair.  They were always
perfectly proper in their behaviour in company, but it only needed one
look.  Polly sometimes thought that if any man ever looked at her with
that explicit mixture of warmth and sensual demand she would faint dead
away.  But perhaps Lucille was lucky.  Perhaps she was the unlucky one,
hidebound by a conventional upbringing in a house where pre serving
the surface calm had always been all important.

The problem of Lord Henry March night twitched at the corner of her
mind again.  Lucille was right, of course.  Polly did not delude
herself that there was any chance of re-establishing a rapport with
Lord Henry, and under the circumstances, it was both foolish and
pointless to be forever dwelling on the past.  Perhaps she could at
least try to put matters to rights.  If she could find the right words
to convey a genteel acceptance that they had both been young and
foolish.  It might suffice and put an end to awkwardness.

"I will try to speak to Lord Henry if I have an opportunity," Polly
agreed hesitantly.

"I understand what you mean, Lucille.  It is just so difficult..."  She
despised herself for her lack of spirit, even as her mind shrank from
the thought of broaching such a personal subject with someone who was,
to all intents and purposes, a stranger.  Yet Lucille was also right
that their social circle was relatively small: to try to avoid someone
was always difficult.  Friends always seemed to have other mutual
friends or acquaintances and an invitation or chance meeting could
prove awkward.

Lucille took a biscuit and poured a second cup of tea.

"I own it will be a relief to have the matter settled," she said with a
candid smile.

"Then I may stop worrying about you and turn my attention to Peter and
Hetty!

They are causing me great concern!  " "It must have been a great blow
for Hetty when Mrs Mark ham's ill health led to the postponment of the
wedding," Polly commented, secretly glad that Lucille had turned the
subject.

"But what do you mean, Lucille?  How can Peter be giving you cause for
concern?"

Lucille frowned.  Polly's brother and her own foster sister had been
intending to wed that spring, but the marriage had been delayed
indefinitely since Hetty's mother had succumbed to the dropsy.

"You know how silly Hetty became at the start of the Season," Lucille
said, a little crossly.

"Of course, she is very young and I think her head was turned by all
the attention she received, but I thought that once she had returned to
the country she might regain some of her natural sense!

But only today I have had a letter from her telling me that Lord
Grantley is in Essex and paying her lavish attentions!  And your
brother is as bad, Polly, for instead of posting down to Kings- mar ton
to see Hetty and untangle matters he persists in staying in Town, and
last night at Lady Coombes's ball he was paying the most outrageous
attentions to Maria Lever stoke.  " "But I thought she was Lord Henry's
flirt," Polly said, studiously picking an imaginary thread off Fan-
chon's latest confection, and politely avoiding a description of Lady
Lever stoke that might have been more appropriate but less discreet.

Lucille made an airy gesture.

"That may be so, but she seemed smitten enough with Peter last night!
He is become the most dreadful philanderer!

You are for Lady Phillips's rid otto tonight, are you not?  Only watch,
and you will see just what I mean!  " Chapter Two QrysQ -Lady
Phillips's rid otto was one of the major social events of the Season,
but already the June weather had turned hot, prompting some of the ton
to leave London for their country estates or the cooling breezes of the
seaside.  Nevertheless, there was a great crush at the house in
Berkeley Square and, even with the french windows flung wide open the
temperature in the ballroom was enough to make the guests perspire
unbecomingly.

Almost the first person Polly saw on entering the crowded reception
room was Lord Henry March night, lavishing his attentions in a
thoroughly improper way on a lady in bright scarlet satin.  Polly,
trying to ignore the pang of misery that assailed her, considered that
the colour of the lady's outfit was an all-too- appropriate choice.

"Lady Melton," hissed the Dowager Countess of Sea grave to her
daughter, 'married to his lordship but a twelvemonth ago and already
driving him to his grave with her extravagance and her affaires\ So
Lady Phillips is letting the demi-monde patronise her ball!

 I should have expected her to exercise more judgement!  " Polly
raised her brows.  The Dowager Countess was very high in the instep and
would never countenance such guests at one of her own events, but not
all ton hostesses were as discerning.  A moment later, Polly heard her
mother give a stifled groan, halfway between a shriek and a moan,
almost as though she were in pain.  The Dowager Countess had stopped
dead in the middle of the marbled floor.

Polly stopped too and turned enquiringly to her mother.

"Mama, are you quite well?"

"Yes, only look!  No, not over there... over by that pillar!  The
strumpet!"

Startled, Polly turned to scan the room.  There were plenty of faces
she recognised, but none surely to give rise to such vehemence in the
Dowager Countess's breast.  Why, her mother had gone quite pale, though
whether with shock, anger or illness it was impossible to tell.  Then,
she saw the reason.

"Good Lord--' The exclamation had escaped before she could help
herself.

"Polly, you will not take the name of the Lord in vain!"  the Dowager
Countess said energetically.  She seemed slightly restored by her
daughter's inadvertent slip into blasphemy.

"Yes, Mama, I am sorry, but it is Peter and--' " I am as capable as the
next person of recognising your brother," the Dowager snapped.

"We cannot acknowledge him, however!  Come this way!  Thank God that
Nicholas and Lucille are not present tonight!  That brass-faced trollop
is always trying to embarrass us!"  She took Polly's arm in a tight
grip and positively pulled her towards the ballroom.

 "I thought that Peter had taken up with Lady Lever stoke," Polly
said, obediently allowing herself to be steered away with only one
backward glance.

"Humph!  I never thought to consider Maria Lever stoke as the lesser of
two evils--' The Dowager broke off to give a tight-lipped smile to one
of her acquaintance.

"On no account must you allow your brother to approach you,"

she continued, as they squeezed past the orchestra to appropriate two
rout chairs in an inconspicuous corner.

"It would be quite unacceptable!"

"Perhaps it would be easier for us to go home," Polly said, a little
dispiritedly.  It was bad enough to be confronted by the prospect of
Lord Henry flirting all evening with some fast-looking matron, but the
thought of avoiding her own brother seemed quite ridiculous.  Here,
however, she ran up against the Dowager Countess's stubborn streak.

"Go home!  And have everyone say that that trollop has ousted us?
Certainly not!  Besides..."  the Dowager looked around surreptitiously
'. I most particularly wish to see Agatha Calvert tonight!  She has not
been up in Town this age and we have so much to catch up on!  " "Surely
Lady Calvert can call on you tomorrow--' The Dowager Countess looked
disgusted.

"Have you no pride, Polly?  I assure you that the Cyprian will not
drive me away!"

Polly smiled slightly.  She could see her brother Peter coming into the
ballroom at that very moment, threatening to put his mother's
resolution to the test.  Lucille had mentioned Peter's sudden descent
into questionable company, but even she had apparently been unaware of
this latest disaster.

For with Peter Sea grave was none other than Lucille's sister, the
notorious Cyprian Susanna Bolt, in a dress of the most outrageous
plunging black silk and ostrich feathers.

"Peter, what can you be doing!"

"Why, I'm talk in' to my own sister!"  Lord Peter Sea grave said, with
pardonable indignation.

"What could be more suitable?"

"You know that is not what I meant!"  Polly looked up at him with
asperity, feeling her annoyance begin to melt at the limpid innocence
in those dark Sea grave eyes.  It was so very difficult to be angry
with Peter for long.

Whilst Polly and Nicholas had inherited something of their father's
gravity, Peter had a gaiety and insouciance that was almost
irresistible.

"Oh, Peter, how could you squire Susanna Bolt about and embarrass Mama
so?"

Peter looked affronted.

"Mama ain't embarrassed by me!  Why, she's nose to nose with Agatha
Calvert and has barely noticed me!"

"Only because she has not seen Lady Calvert for an age!"  Polly looked
across to where the two matrons were chatting nineteen to the dozen.

"I

assure you, she would not have allowed me to even speak with you
else!

Supposing Lady Bolt approaches us?  " "Lady Bolt is almost one of the
family," Peter added virtuously, but unable to repress a slight
twinkle, 'and I am sure Mama would not slight a relative!

" "Fustian!"  Polly was also trying not to smile.

"Oh, this is too bad of you, Peter!  I dare swear it is not for the
family connection that you have sought her company!"

"Careful, Poll!"

 "Well, if you are setting Lady Bolt up as your in- amorata--' "
Polly!  " "Oh, I collect that it is acceptable for a gentleman to have
such a thing, but not for ladies to refer to her?"  Polly frowned at
her brother.

"And if you try to tell me that Lady Bolt has become respectable since
her marriage I will count you a greater fool than I already do!  What
of Hetty, Peter?"

The amusement went out of Peter Sea grave's face like a candle blown
out.

He studied the dancers with sudden intentness.

"Miss Mark ham and I are no longer... That is, we have agreed that we
would not suit."

"Oh, Peter!"  Polly looked up at him, genuinely shocked.  Peter swung
gently back on his rout chair, feigning nonchalance.

"It was only last summer that you were bowled over by her," Polly added
reproachfully.

"Miss Mark ham was a different girl last summer."  Peter was looking
both annoyed and upset now.

"Un spoilt, sweet-natured... It took only six weeks in Town to turn her
into the type of silly simpering debutante that I detest!  Besides," he
added bitterly, 'she is after bigger game than me now!  " Polly was
silent.  She could hardly deny that Hetty had behaved very foolishly,
flirting with any titled and personable man who had shown her attention
and treating Peter in a most offhand way.  She put her hand on her
brother's arm.

"It is only that her head was turned a little," she pleaded.

"Please will you reconsider--' " Peter, darling!  " Peter rose to his
feet, a schoolboy blush in his cheeks as Susanna Bolt put a gloved hand
cares singly on his shoulder.  The Cyprian gave Polly an appraising
look and her feline smile.

"Lady Polly..."

"Lady Bolt," Polly said coldly.  She marvelled at how different two
sisters could be.  There was a clear innocence about Lucille Sea grave
which contrasted starkly with the predatory sexuality of her twin. Lady
Bolt might have achieved a fragile respectability through her recent
marriage, Polly thought, but her previous activities continued much as
before, encouraged, some said, by Sir Edwin Bolt himself. Susanna's
blue gaze, as hard as the diamonds she preferred, raked Polly and
dismissed her as an unworthy rival.

"Peter..."  this time she trailed her fingers gently down his
shirtfront 'you promised me you would play deep this evening.  " The
phrase was loaded with so much innuendo that Peter Sea grave looked
acutely uncomfortable and his sister almost surprised herself by
giggling.

Doubtless she should have felt shocked, but Lady Bolt was so
superlatively over-dramatic that it was almost impossible to take her
seriously.

"Do not let me keep you from your entertainments, Peter," she said
sweetly, and watched Susanna steer her sheepish brother away towards
the card room.

There was a quadrille in progress, but Polly had refused a number of
requests to dance because it was so hot and she had felt disinclined to
become even more heated and flustered.  The Dowager Lady Sea- grave had
moved away temporarily to chat with Lady Calvert and a number of other
senior matrons, and when she had seen Peter approach his sister she had
not troubled herself to disturb them despite her earlier words.  The
Dowager knew that Polly had so much Town bronze that she need not
trouble herself to chaperon her too closely.

After all, apart from one regrettable incident five years ago, her
daughter had never given her cause to worry.  Nevertheless, she kept
her firmly within eyesight.

Peter's rout chair was only vacant for a moment, then a voice said
ingratiatingly, "Lady Polly!  Vision of loveliness!  I bring
succour!"

Polly stifled a sigh.

"Sir Mar ma duke.  How do you do, sir?"

Sir Mar ma duke Shipley gazed languishingly at her.  An ageing roue, he
was a gazetted fortune-hunter who liked to think that he was dangerous.
A certain indulgent smile on the face of the Dowager Countess as she
looked across at her daughter gave the lie to this.  Sir Mar ma duke
handed Polly a glass and took the seat beside her with an ostentatious
flick of his coattails.

The room was getting more and more humid and the drink was very
welcome.

Polly, who had been intending to be very chilly towards the lecherous
Sir Mar ma duke, found herself smiling gratefully at him instead.

"What exquisite looks you are in tonight, my lady," Sir Mar ma duke
murmured, his breath hot against Polly's neck.

"Dare I hope that you will smile on me?"

"I doubt it, sir!"  Polly said smartly, taking a mouthful of the drink.
It was certainly not lemonade, but it tasted rather pleasantly fruity
and quite innocuous, light and refreshing for a summer night.  She took
another sip.

"Still so cruel, divine one?"  Sir Mar ma duke's dissolute gaze roved
over her familiarly.  Lady Polly Sea- grave had never been an
accredited beauty, but there was nevertheless something very alluring
about her, he thought.

Tonight, in the deep aquamarine which was rather daring for an
unmarried lady, albeit one of more mature years than the debutantes,
she looked particularly attractive.  Her dark hair was up swept and
restrained with a diamond studded slide but she wore no jewels other
than a string of pearls that had the same translucent glow as her skin.
She did not need adornment.

Sir Mar ma duke's eyes lingered in lascivious appreciation.  Whilst the
dragonish Dowager was fully occupied, he intended to take full
advantage of this unexpected teteatete.

Polly sighed again.  She had far too much assurance to feel threatened
by Sir Mar ma duke's slimy overtures.  In a crowded ballroom she was in
no danger from him, other than of being bored to death by his unwelcome
compliments.

"So your young brother has fallen for the lure," Sir Mar ma duke said,
abandoning flattery and pursuing a more scandalous line.

"Never did a lamb go more happily to the slaughter!  The on-dit is that
the lovely Susanna had a mind to take him away from her foster sister,
and what chance did Miss Mark ham's untried charms have against such a
wealth of experience?"

Polly was shocked, but tried not to show it.  It had not occurred to
her that Peter's flirtation with Susanna Bolt was anything more than a
coincidence.

She knew a little of Lady Bolt's activities, far more in fact than her
mother would have thought proper, and now that she thought about it she
remembered hearing of more than one occasion when Susanna had set out
to destroy a couple's happiness.  But her own foster sister?  It argued
a particularly harsh and jealous nature.

"Indeed?"  Polly murmured, refusing to rise to Sir Mar ma duke's
bait.

"I do not care for this conversation, sir."

"No?"  Sir Mar ma duke's gaze moved thoughtfully to her empty glass and
he summoned another full one from a passing flunkey.

"Your pardon, I was only wishing to warn you of Lady Bolt's vicious
nature."

"I should hope that her ladyship's diversions would not affect me,
sir."

"No?"  Sir Mar ma duke said again.  There was a look of malicious
amusement in his eyes which made Polly profoundly uncomfortable.

"Perhaps not.  You will not be interested in the most piquant part of
the tale, then, which is that young Peter is her ladyship's second
choice, for she first set her sights on Lord Henry March night..."

For a moment Polly's dark gaze met Sir Mar ma- duke's, then she looked
away.

She took another mouthful of fruit punch without noticing.  It was so
easy to take refuge in her glass to avoid difficult subjects.  And the
drink was so refreshing and unusual.  Normally she was only allowed
lemonade, which, now she considered it, was ridiculous for one of her
age and experience.

The Dowager Countess was such a high stickler, Polly thought.  Perhaps
it was time she asserted her independence.

"Your squalid gossip is of no interest to me, sir," she said distantly,
wishing that more congenial company would present itself.
Unfortunately, Lady Sea- grave was still chatting, glancing across at
her daughter with unusual and misplaced satisfaction.  It would take a
brave soul to interrupt Sir Mar ma duke now that he was so entrenched,
Polly thought resignedly.  As if to underline the point, the elderly
baronet stretched his arm along the back of Polly's chair and leaned
closer.  His breath was stale with wine.

"Can I not please you?"  Sir Mar ma duke murmured.  "When my sole
intention is your delight, beauteous lady--' " Your servant.  Lady
Polly.  Shipley.  " Polly almost jumped.  She felt a quiver of
awareness along her nerves even before her hand was taken by Lord Henry
March night himself.  Perhaps it was the drink, which she was now
regarding suspiciously, or perhaps the effect of Lord Henry's presence,
but she felt suddenly lightheaded.

"I am persuaded," Lord Henry said gently, 'that you would do so much
better dancing with me, Lady Polly.  Will you do me the honour?  " For
a moment, as Polly's startled dark eyes met Lord Henry's narrowed, lazy
gaze, she had the oddest feeling that he knew she had been thinking of
him.

Various thoughts jostled for dominance in her mind.  Her first was that
Lord Henry never asked her to dance.  How could he, when he seldom even
spoke to her?  The second thought was that this was a waltz and the
Dowager Countess would not approve.  The third was that she was feeling
ever so slightly odd-not unpleasantly odd, but definitely a little
adrift.  Which no doubt explained how she came to be waltzing in Lord
Henry's arms before she even had chance to think about it properly.

The lilt of the music was very seductive and Lord Henry was an
exceptionally good dancer.  After one circuit of the floor, Polly
realized with some incredulity that she felt rather delightfully
abandoned, like thistledown floating on air.  Lord Henry was holding
her at an entirely respectable distance from his body, but
nevertheless the strength of his arm about her, the unfamiliar brush of
his thigh against the slippery material of her dress, was peculiarly
exciting.  Polly blinked slightly, aware that she was not feeling quite
normal, but the thought slid away, out of reach.  Normal?  She felt
marvelous.

"You are keeping dangerous company tonight, Lady Polly," Lord Henry
said in her ear.  The thought of his lips so close to the sensitive
skin of her neck sent a delicious shiver through Polly.  She tried to
pull herself together.

What on earth was wrong with her this evening?

"Are all the Sea graves courting scandal?"  Lord Henry continued.

"First your brother sets himself up as Lady Bolt's new..."  he
hesitated 'new flirt, then you grant Sir Mar ma duke Shipley a
tete-a-tete and compound your daring by dancing with me!  " Polly
looked up fully into his face for the first time.  His words
crystallised the thought which had entered her head when first he had
whisked her from under Sir Mar ma duke's nose.  Sir Mar ma duke liked
to consider himself a rake, but Lord Henry was the really dangerous
one, a marauding tiger loose amongst the innocent flock of debutantes.
Whatever was she about, to be dancing with him with such abandonment?
Across the dance floor, she could see that the Dowager Countess had
finally finished her conversation and was glaring at her most
meaningfully.  Polly felt exasperated.  Why had her mother not objected
to the unwelcome attentions of the odious Sir Mar ma duke and yet had
immediately perceived Lord Henry's arrival?  It was most unfair.  She
deliberately looked the other way.

Lucille had once said, without an iota of partiality, hk that Lord
Henry March night was the best-looking y man that she had ever seen.
Polly could certainly un; understand what she meant, for Lord Henry had
the classical regularity of feature beloved of all sculptors and } ;
painters.  His thick fair hair, immaculately ruffled in W , :. c the
Windswept style, made ladies long to run their 5 '%!  fingers through
it.  The lazy appraisal of those grey ; ;%S s?  ; eyes could, as one
infatuated maiden declared, positively cause one to swoon, and his
sporting pursuits "H."."  f, had given him a physique envied by those
less fa- s.

;T";!-i: : .  voured.

"Are you really so dangerous then, sir?"  Polly heard herself say.
Surely that could not be her voice, so light, so teasing?  She never
flirted!

- .  >. " .,- ---------.

"I am accounted dangerous, certainly.  " Lord Henry ,|})m pspnpul ". ,
" ,1 .  . given her a quizzical glance, no doubt as surprised by
Polly's flirtatious ness as she was herself.  : I ;- "A real tiger,
then, not merely a pussycat?"

This time Lord Henry's look was rather more searching.

"Have you been drinking the arrack punch, Lady Polly?"

"Certainly not."  Polly said with dignified aplomb.  "I had some
delicious fruit cup, but what is that to the " Ah, the fruit cup," Lord
Henry murmured with a slight smile.

"It is so refreshing, is it not?  I see the Dowager Countess is looking
daggers at us," he continued indolently.

"I must shortly redeem myself in her eyes and return you to her
unscathed!"

"Oh, no!"  Polly had suddenly remembered that she had promised Lucille
that she would speak to Lord Henry about a matter of importance.  She
frowned in concentration, trying to remember what exactly the issue had
been.  It was something potentially difficult.  embarrassing.  but she
did not feel embarrassed at the moment, only marvellously liberated.
Her mind was a little fuzzy at the edges, perhaps, but she had not felt
this confident in a long time!  It was a moment before she realised
that Lord Henry was looking at her with amusement.

"I beg your pardon.  Lady Polly?"

"No, do not take me back just yet, sir!"  Polly tried to grasp the
appropriate words.

"I... there is a matter I need ... must discuss with you!"

"Indeed!"  A faint smile touched Lord Henry's firm mouth once more.

"You intrigue me, madam!  I am at your disposal, of course!"

The music was ending.  Lord Henry gave her a mocking bow, taking her
arm to escort her through the crowd and across to one of the
silk-draped alcoves.

It was sufficiently far from her mother to make Polly feel much more
confident.  She could deal with this matter without the Dowager Lady
Sea grave even realising!

Lord Henry stood aside for her to sit down first, but she made no move
to do so.  He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Lady Polly?  What is this urgent matter that demands our
attention?

Will you not sit down so that I may at least do the same?"

Polly discovered that her thought processes were suddenly beautifully
clear.

"I meant," she said deliberately, 'that I needed to speak to you in
private.

Not here.  There are too many people about!  " This time.  Lord Henry
did not scruple to hide his surprise.

"A somewhat equivocal remark, my lady!"  he said, with an ironic
inflection.

"Are you sure that is what you mean?  It seems most singular."

 Polly frowned at him.  She had no time for argument.  All she was
aware of was the single-minded need to fulfill her purpose.

"The terrace should suffice, my lord," she said briskly, turning
towards the door and praying that he would follow.  Out of the corner
of her eye, she saw the Dowager Countess getting heavily to her feet.
It was a long way around the dance floor and the room was crowded, but
it would take a determined Mama seconds only to rescue her charge.
Polly saw one of the Dowager Countess's acquaintance accost her and
heaved a sigh of relief.

Old Lady Odgers was notoriously chatty and would not be easy to shake
off.

She prayed that this would give her enough time.

The terrace was deeply shadowed and Polly purposefully made for the
furthest corner, only turning back to Lord Henry when she had gained
its seclusion.

The cool evening air had helped to sober her a little, but she still
felt remarkably buoyant and determined.  Yet as soon as she opened her
mouth the words seemed to desert her.

"I hoped...!  wished...!  wanted to say..."  Suddenly it seemed
incredibly difficult to frame the appropriate phrases.  She had wanted
to be so gracious, easily putting an end to five years' embarrassment.
At this rate she would cause five years' more!  And Lord Henry was not
helping her, lounging against the parapet and watching her with the
same thoughtful consideration he had already shown.

"Yes, ma'am?  You have already implied that you had something of
importance to impart to me.  I should not be here else."

Polly's cheeks, already flushed with unaccustomed high colour from the
punch, became even rosier.

"Oh, you are the most odious man!  I only wished to say that I wanted
us to be friends!"  Memory came to her aid.

"I want us to be friends in future and I want us to be comfortable
together!"

she brought out, triumphantly.  It had a reassuring sound, although
comfortable was about the last thing Lord Henry made her feel.

"And if you wish it too, then there is no bar--' " Ah, but perhaps I do
not.

" Lord Henry was smiling a little now, for he knew that certain
suspicions he had harboured about Lady Polly's lack of sobriety had
been confirmed.  She was not drunk, precisely, he thought, but she was
not perfectly sober.  And she was evidently too innocent to have
realised her state.  Or her danger.

"Oh!"  Polly had anticipated his compliance and there was no doubt that
this refusal to conform had thrown her plans.  Lord Henry watched in
amusement as she tried to puzzle it out.  With her tumbled curls, pink
cheeks and bright eyes, she looked wholly enchanting.  He felt a
certain impulse stir in him and tried half-heartedly to stifle it.  He
straightened up and took a step closer to her.  Polly did not appear to
notice.

"Well, if you do not care to be comfortable with me--' " No, ma'am.  "
Lord Henry was still immaculately polite, even as he calculated, quite
coldly, what he was about to do.

"Comfortable is not a word I could ever apply to our situation."

"Then--' Polly was at a loss.

"If you do not wish us to be friends, what...?"

Lord Henry made a slight, dismissive gesture.  "What could a rake wish
for from a lady on a providentially empty terrace?"

 "Oh!"

Understanding came to Polly at the very last moment, but her head still
felt as though it was stuffed with wool.  Time seemed to pass very
slowly.

Indeed, she had time to reflect that she had never been kissed by a
man, since she had always been exceptionally careful to avoid being
alone with any gentleman who was not a relative.  Then she remembered
that when she had been in the throes of her infatuation, she had quite
ached for Lord Henry to kiss her as long as it had been in a completely
undemanding fashion.  Some chaste but impassioned salutation had been
the height of her aspirations.

This kiss might have been impassioned, but in no way could it be
described as chaste.  Lord Henry's arm slid about Polly's waist and
brought her into sudden, shocking contact with his body.  His mouth
captured hers with the ruthless skill of the expert, parting her lips
so that her gasp of outrage was lost.  For several long, spellbinding
seconds, Polly was swept up in a passion too complex and demanding for
her even to begin to resist.

Lord Henry let her go very gently and Polly stared at him in silence.
The combined effects of unaccustomed drink and strong emotion made her
feel quite shaken and she put a hand onto the parapet to steady
herself.  The stone was cool beneath her fingers, already damp with the
night's dew.

Polly frowned a little, confused.  How could this have happened when
she had intended so different an outcome?  Then, utterly unexpectedly.
Lord Henry took her hand and pressed a kiss on the palm.

"Do not look at me so reproachfully.  Lady Polly,"

 he said quietly.

"Remember that you took your part in making me what I am."

He turned to go and was confronted once again by the Dowager Countess
of Sea grave, rushing precipitately to the rescue.  He gave her a most
flawless, ironic bow.

"Lady Sea grave!  How do you do, ma'am?  I remember once telling you
that I would never approach your daughter again.  Alas that I am forced
to contradict myself, for I find I have a most urgent need to make her
reacquaintance!  Your servant, ma'am!"

And he left the outraged Dowager spluttering for words.

Chapter Three

QTQSQ

lolly woke up with the conviction that something was terribly wrong.
Her head ached with an unaccustomed thick throbbing and her tongue felt
furry.

She rolled on to her back.  The sun was streaming through the curtains
and she could hear the sound of wheels in the street outside.  It was
late.

Through the woolly feeling in her head, Polly remembered the fruit
punch, so apparently innocuous and yet so dangerous.  Oh, how could she
have been such a fool, she who had been out for five years!  Drinking
spirits, becoming flirtatious, crowning her folly with a drunken
encounter on the terrace with Lord Henry March night!  No doubt he
thought her the most unutterable fool!

She squirmed, turning her hot face into the cool linen pillow in an
attempt to wipe out the vivid memories which were flooding back.

"I've tried to wake her once already, my lady," a voice was saying, and
Polly shot bolt upright, suddenly terrified that her mother was at the
door.  But it was only Lucille, who came into the room and pulled back
the bed curtains with a resounding rasp that echoed through Polly's
head.

 "Oh!  Do not!"  Polly's groan was heartfelt.  She slumped back on the
pillows, feeling dizzy.  Her sister-in-law paused in surprise.

"Polly?  Are you ill?  I thought that you were coming with me to Lady
Rout ledge's picnic?"

The light was making Polly's eyes stream.  She squinted at Lucille
through the brightness.  There was a rhythmic pounding in her ears
although she had no recollection of any major building works currently
taking place on the house.

"Oh dear... I think I may be sick..."

"If I did not know better, I should say that you were foxed," Lucille
was saying severely, eyeing her sister- in-law closely.

"I had no idea that Lady Phillips's ri- dot to had been such a hotbed
of iniquity!  Or was it the prawn patties you ate, perhaps?  Yes, so
much better for it to be the prawns, I think... That is what I shall
tell your Mama.  I will come and see you later..."

Polly was beyond replying.  She turned over and was asleep again at
once.

It was the afternoon when she awoke again, feeling marginally better.

"Lady Sea grave said that I wasn't to disturb you on account of you
being so sick, ma'am," Polly's maid said sympathetically, when summoned
at last by the bell.

"Can I fetch you anything, ma'am?  Some food?"

A spasm of distaste crossed Polly's face.

"I think not, Jessie.  Just a very large glass of water, if you please.
I have seldom been so thirsty!

And I shall get up now, I think.  " Jessie looked dubious.

"Well, ma'am, if you're sure you're ready!  My brother usually takes a
day to sleep off his excesses..."  She caught Polly's outraged
expression and dropped a submissive curtsy.  A country girl from the
Sea graves' Suffolk estate, Jessie had a kind heart but no tact.

"As you wish, ma'am!"  she finished hastily.

"Shall you be going out?"

"Yes!"  Polly snapped, suddenly anxious to refute the suggestion that
she was a drunkard to rival Jessie's brother.

"We shall go to the circulating library!  My lilac walking dress,
please!"

Half an hour later, attired in the lilac and lace dress and with a very
becoming black straw bonnet on her dark curls, Polly sallied forth into
the fresh air with Jessie trotting along behind.  Lucille and the
Dowager Countess had not returned from the picnic, but Polly thought it
unlikely her mother could object to so innocuous a plan as a trip to
the library.

After all, no possible harm could befall her there.

It was pleasantly cool within and Polly spent an enjoyable time
browsing amongst the shelves and choosing her books.  There was
something very soothing about the shadowy quiet of the library,
something tranquil when Polly still felt a little disordered in both
body and spirit.  An elderly gentleman was dozing in a seat in the
corner and two ladies were whispering together over a copy of Louisa
Sidney Stanhope's The Confessional of Valombre.  There was nothing to
disturb the peace.  Polly leant forward to pull a book from the shelf
and found herself looking into a pair of sleepy grey eyes as someone
selected a book from the other side at precisely the same moment as
she.

"Oh!"  She dropped all her books and recoiled a step, causing the two
ladies to break off their conversation and hush her noisily.  The
gentleman came around the end of the bookcase, bent down and gravely
handed her back the books of her choice.

"Good afternoon.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry March- night said.

"What are you doing here?"  Polly hissed crossly, forgetful of the fact
that only hours earlier she had privately resolved never to speak to
him again.

He was looking immaculate in a dove-grey jacket which echoed the colour
of those disturbing grey eyes and Polly felt both annoyed and ill
prepared to meet him.  If only she had stayed at home!  The scene on
Lady Phillips's terrace flashed before her eyes once more, adding to
her confusion.  It was the greatest piece of bad luck to be obliged to
face him again so soon.

Lord Henry gestured to the two slender volumes under his arm.

"Like you, I am selecting some reading matter," he said calmly.

"A gentleman may attend the circulating library if he wishes!"

"Yes, but I would hardly have considered reading to be amongst your
favoured occupations Polly bit her lip, aware that her confusion had
prompted her to sound less than civil.

"I beg your pardon, I only meant that I imagined you had other
interests Again she broke off.  That sounded even worse!

Lord Henry smiled, showing her the books.

"Allow me to astound you then, ma'am!  I have here Cole- ridge's
Biographica Liter aria and some Homer, which I have not read since I
was in short coats!

I assure you, I am far more erudite than you think me!"

Polly blinked, unable to refute the evidence of her eyes.  It seemed
singular that a man whose self- proclaimed aim in life was enjoyment to
the point of dissipation should sit in alone with only his books for
company.

 "I am so glad to see you restored to health," Lord Henry continued
smoothly.

"I was at Lady Rout- ledge's picnic earlier and your sister-in-law
intimated that you had been taken ill after the ball last night.
Something you ate--or drank, perhaps?"

Polly could feel herself blushing with vexation.  The last thing that
she wanted was to be reminded of the previous evening and Lord Henry's
scandalous behaviour.

"I am quite recovered now, I thank you," she said stiffly.

"Good day, sir.

I must be on my way home for we are promised for the theatre this
evening.  " "Perhaps I may escort you back to Brook Street?"  Lord
Henry suggested politely.

He held the door for her as she went out into the sunny street.  It was
tempting to accept his offer, but since Polly was still smarting with
mortification over her behaviour the night before.  Lord Henry's
continued presence could only be a dangerous reminder.  She gave him a
smile behind which her regret was imperfectly hidden.

"Thank you, sir, but I think not.  I have my maid with me for company
and it is not far to home,"

"I am disappointed, ma'am," Lord Henry said, falling into step beside
her as though she had not spoken.  "Are we not pledged to a better
understanding?

How may that be achieved if you refuse my company?"

"Pledged to a better understanding?"  Polly stopped and stared up at
him.

The summer breeze was ruffling his thick fair hair and she stifled a
sudden urge to touch it.  She realised that she was still staring.
Hastily, she started walking again.

"Why, yes."  Somehow Lord Henry had taken her arm without her noticing.
It seemed churlish to draw away from him.

"We are to be friends, remember?  You suggested it last night!"

"Friends!"  Polly almost tripped up with shock and his hand tightened
momentarily on her arm, sending all sorts of strange but delicious
sensations through her body.

"Yes, of course you must remember!  We were on the terrace--' " Yes!  "
Polly squeaked, convinced he was about to remind her of every searing
detail.  She took a deep breath.

"Of course I remember our conversation, sir.  I had the particular
impression, however, that you did not care for my suggestion!"

Lord Henry turned to look at her.  It was a distinctly speculative
look.

"You did not find my response to you... friendly?"

Polly blushed with indignation.

"I did not, my lord!  Presumptuous, outrageous, but scarcely
friendly!"

Lord Henry's shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Come now.

Lady Polly!  You are severe!  Was my company so repulsive to you?  "
Polly was in a dilemma.  Modesty required her to lie but she had been
brought up to be exceptionally truthful.

"Your behaviour was not that of a gentleman, sir!"

"Ah, true!"  Lord Henry smiled whimsically.

"But I find myself rather taken by your proposal.  Lady Polly.  I have
an ardent desire to promote our friendship.  Our encounter last night
whetted my appetite for it!"

They had reached Brook Street, which was fortunate since Polly was
utterly unable to think of a suitable response.  Lord Henry kissed her
hand.

"If you wish to be persuaded further of my erudition, perhaps you might
wish to join me in St James's Square?  I have an excellent art
collection which you might like to view..."  His glance was wicked.

"Unless you are already convinced of my scholarship and good taste?"

"I will accept your word on it," Polly said, still trying to be severe
though tempted to giggle.

"Good day, sir!"

Art collection, indeed!  Polly blushed a little as she considered the
implications of his teasing invitation.  He must consider her a green
girl to be caught by that one!  Lord Henry grinned and strolled off
down the street, with just one provocative look back.  Polly was
annoyed that he had caught her looking after him.

"There's a likely gentleman," Jessie opined, looking over Polly's
shoulder.

"Aye, and a dangerous one, too!  You be careful, madam!"

Polly, who had been thinking exactly the same thing, turned away with
studied indifference.

"Oh, nonsense, Jessie!  Lord Henry is just a flirt!"

"A flirt!"  Jessie was indignant.

"A rake, more to the point!  Aye, and you like it, madam!"

Polly did not deign to reply.

As she dressed for the theatre that evening, she repressed a little
shiver of excitement and apprehension at the possibility of seeing Lord
Henry again.

It seemed that her behaviour the previous night had, entirely
unexpectedly, caught his interest.  But his attentions could never be
anything other than dishonourable, and as a result of her own actions
he was now pursuing her in a wholly improper way.

The play that night was the farce The Devil to Pay, and the company was
a merry one.  Nicholas and Lucille Sea grave, the Dowager Countess and
Polly, made up a party with Sir Godfrey Or bison and his cousins the Da
cres.  There was a vast number of their acquaintance at Drury Lane that
night and the Dowager Countess spent an entertaining time leaning over
the side of their box and identifying members of the fashionable crowd.
 When she saw Lucille's twin sister Susanna Bolt on the arm of a
distinguished- looking gentleman of military bearing, she dug Lady
Dacre in the ribs.

"Do look, Marianne!  There is the Duke of Gars ton making a fool of
himself over the Cyprian!  Only see how she preens and pouts!  Lord,
what is it about these worthy gentlemen that makes them such easy meat
for her?"

Fortunately, Lucille was engrossed in conversation with Nicholas and
Lord Dacre and did not hear, but Polly leant forward curiously. Susanna
Bolt was looking very striking again, she thought, in her bold and
flaunting style.

There were jewels glittering in her hair and her mouth was a deep,
curving red as she smiled triumphantly over her conquest.  The sapphire
blue eyes which appraised the crowd were the exact shade of Lucille's
but there the resemblance finished, for the Countess of Sea grave had
such a sweetness of character and bearing that it softened every
feature that Susanna's avarice had turned hard.

Polly sighed, just a little envious of Susanna's bold beauty.  She knew
that her own looks were pleasant enough, although she had never been
considered an Incomparable.  The Sea grave colouring of chestnut hair
and dark brown eyes flecked with gold seemed to suit her brothers
better, although her creamy complexion was much admired.  And her
figure was trim rather than voluptuous, which the gentlemen seemed to
prefer.  Polly wondered idly whether Susanna's appearance on Gars ton's
arm indicated that her brief interest in Peter was over or whether she
was just being naive to imagine the Cyprian confining herself to one
man at a time.

"Polly!"  the Dowager Countess said sharply, as a young buck raised his
quizzing glass to ogle her daughter.

"Kindly sit back!  You do not wish to attract the attention of the hoi
polloiV Polly's heart skipped a beat and she sat back slowly, for she
had just seen Lord Henry March night in a box across from them.  He was
in a lively group with Simon Verey, his wife Therese and some of their
friends, all laughing animatedly at a remark Lady Verey had just made.
Polly felt a quiver of envy and repressed it quickly.  It was not that
she was bored with her own party, for she always enjoyed Lucille's
company and the Misses Dacie were pleasant enough, if hen witted.  Just
for once, however, it would be fun to be part of a racier crowd.  She
was forever being chaperoned about by her mother or some other elderly
female relative, which was all very well for a new debutante but
decidedly slow for a lady of twenty- three.  She risked another look
across at the box, to find that Lord Henry was studying her with a
concentrated regard which made her pulse beat faster.

The play began, but Polly found it incredibly difficult to
concentrate.

Normally she became engrossed in a performance, for play going was one
of her favourite entertainments, but tonight all she seemed able to
think about was whether Lord Henry was serious in his pursuit and
whether she should respond.

On the one hand, he could not have any serious intention and since her
feelings were already engaged-- and had been so for five years--she
would be only stirring up all the old emotions that she should be
trying to forget.

On the other hand, she could not deny that she derived immense
enjoyment from his company.  If she managed matters well, perhaps.  But
could she manage Lord Henry?  It would be Very dangerous .  a
challenge, then?  No, a risk and a hazardous one at that.  Foolish even
to consider it, knowing his reputation.  But.  Polly shivered.  A risk
worth taking?  She had found the Season dull, repetitious.

She wanted some excitement.  The prim side of her character, the
orthodox side, was asking her what on earth she was thinking of, to
encourage the attentions of so notorious a rake.

There was a burst of applause, and Polly realised to her horror that
the entire first act had passed without her even noticing.  The
audience started to chatter, to mill around and stretch their legs
before the second act.

Lucille took Polly's arm as they strolled out with everyone else.

"What do you think of Venn's performance, Polly?  Is he as accomplished
as Edmund Keen, do you think?"

Polly floundered.

"Well, perhaps so... Or perhaps not... I need more time to consider--'
She broke off as Lord Henry and the Vereys approached, and was not sure
whether to be glad or nervous at the interruption.

Lord Henry greeted Lucille very warmly, and once again Polly felt a
stirring of jealousy when she considered their friendship.  She was not
unsophisticated enough to think that just because Lord Henry had
suddenly paid some attention to her, he might not be pursuing other
interests.  But surely Lucille could not rank as one of those!  There
was an innocence about the Countess of Sea grave which made such a
thought seem foolish.

Besides, Lucille had now turned her attention to the Vereys, leaving
Polly and Lord Henry standing together.

"Are you enjoying the play, Lady Polly?"  Lord Henry asked
conventionally enough as they strolled down the corridor,

"Yes, thank you, my lord."  Polly was desperately hoping that he would
not question her too closely about it.

"You always enjoyed the theatre, did you not?"  Lord Henry said with a
smile.

"You are not one of those who come only to see and be seen!  I remember
when we came to see As You Like It, you were so enraptured that no one
could get a word from you for a full half-hour afterwards!"

Polly blushed.  She could remember the occasion to which he referred
and the memory troubled her.  It had been very early on in their
acquaintance, when she was first out, and she had sat through the play
in a dream.

Although utterly engrossed in the story, she had still been fully aware
of Lord Henry sitting slightly behind her, his attention as much on her
as it was on the play.  He had leant forward, smiling at her
enthusiasm, and it had seemed to Polly that his enjoyment had derived
as much from her pleasure as from the entertainment.

The bell rang for the second act, saving her the necessity of reply.

"A moment.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry said, when she would have excused
herself and returned to the box.

"Will you drive with me in the park tomorrow?"

 Polly stood still, jostled by those returning to their seats.

"Surely not an unusual request?"  Lord Henry said gently, with a smile
that made her heart race.

"You must be inundated by gentlemen asking to escort you!"

"Yes, but not by you Polly stopped herself.

"I beg your pardon.  What I meant was that you never take a lady up in
your phaeton!"

"Not often," Lord Henry amended, with the same disconcerting smile.

"I am, however, accomplished enough as a whip to make the offer!"

Polly knew he was being deliberately obtuse.  It was not his skill that
was in question but the fact that it would cause a storm of comment if
he took her up.  Lord Henry handed her back into the box as the lights
went down.

"I will see you tomorrow at five," he murmured, taking her acquiescence
for granted, and was gone.  Polly saw him slide into his seat in the
box opposite and incline his head as he saw her watching.  She was
annoyed that he had caught her looking at him yet again, rather than at
the play.

Chapter Tow QsysQ Well, I think it is a famous thing that you and
Harry are now such good friends," Lucille Sea grave declared at
breakfast, when Polly shyly confided that Lord Henry was to take her
driving that afternoon.

"I do not think Mama will view it in quite the same light, Lucille,"
Polly said gloomily.  The Dowager Countess had been almost apoplectic
on finding her only daughter alone on the terrace at Lady Phillips's
with the most notorious rake in Town.  Polly's repeated statement that
she and Lord Henry had only been talking together had met with short
shrift.  Not only did the Dowager disbelieve her but she had some
pungent words to say about young ladies who decided to talk alone with
rake hells.

A moment later, the Dowager swished bad- temperedly into the breakfast
room and eyed her daughter and daughter-in-law with disfavour.

"What are you two whispering about?"  she demanded querulously.  She
asked for a plate of kedgeree then picked at it so disagreeably that
Polly's heart sank.  She could already tell that the Dowager Countess
had a headache, induced by her late night at the theatre, and would be
in a bad mood.

"I was telling Lucille that Lord Henry March night is to take me
driving this aftemooon," she said, rather defiantly.

"He is to collect me at five."

The Dowager flushed an unbecoming puce.

"Driving?  With Lord Henry March night?  Have you taken leave of your
senses, miss?  Why, the man's unsafe!"

"As a whip or as a man Nicholas Sea grave enquired lazily, rustling his
newspaper.  He had given no indication that he had been listening to
the previous conversation, but now Polly saw the look of amusement in
her brother's dark eyes and her heart sank still further.  If Nicholas
objected as well, the trip was as good as ruined.  Lucille gave her
husband a reproving glance.

"I am persuaded that nothing so very dreadful can happen in the park,
ma'am,"

she said mildly to her mother-in-law.

"There will be plenty of people about, after all."

The Dowager cast her a darkling look.

"You have no idea of what that man is capable, Lucille!  And it is not
simply the risk to Polly's person, but the damage to her reputation! If
she is seen in company with him, all claim to respectability would be
lost--' " Oh, come.

Mama, you are making too much of this," Nicholas interrupted.

"Harry March night is a good enough fellow!  He will not do anything to
injure Polly's good name!  I say she should go!"

He folded his paper up a little irritably, got up, bent to kiss his
wife and murmured that he was taking refuge in his book room.

"Some honey in your tea, ma'am?"  Lucille said hastily, seeing her
mother-in-law glare at Sea grave's departing back.

"You know that it is very soothing for the headache."

The Dowager Countess smiled reluctantly.  She was very fond of her
unconventional daughter-in-law.

"Thank you, Lucille.  It is good to know that you have so much concern
for my health when my own brood seem set on tormenting me!  Now, will
you be accompanying me to Mrs Man bury's this afternoon?  I realise
that Polly--' she glared again '--will be otherwise engaged!"

Polly was to remember Sea grave's unlikely championing and her mother's
reluctant acquiescence later, when she was ensconsed in Lord Henry's
perch phaeton and they were bowling along under the trees.  They were
attracting a great deal of attention from the fashionable crowds who
had come to take the air and Polly had begun to wish that she had taken
her mother's advice.  She felt uncomfortable as the focus of so much
speculative interest.  Nor did Lord Henry stop to greet his
acquaintance, but concentrated his attention solely on her.  Polly
thought she should have been flattered.  Instead, such single-minded
attention was beginning to make her nervous.  She was suddenly unsure
where it was leading--or where it might end.

And yet Lord Henry's conversation was unexceptionable.  Surely she had
nothing to fear.

"Are you enjoying the Season?"  he enquired, expertly avoiding an
oncoming vehicle which was being driven with considerably less skill
and more waywardness than his own.

"Do you like London?"

Polly relaxed slightly.  It was most enjoyable to be out in the fresh
air, for it was another sunny day with a cool breeze and to be driven
with such expertise was a real pleasure.

"Are those not two entirely separate questions, my lord?"  she queried
with a smile.

"I have found the Season a little flat this year, but yes, I like
London a great deal, for there are so many beautiful buildings and
interesting sights to observe.  There, will that do?"

Lord Henry took his eyes off the road for long enough to give her an
amused glance.

"Most comprehensively answered, my lady, but with little real
information given!  Why has the Season been so tedious for you?"

Polly shrugged a little uncomfortably, regretting her flippancy.  She
had no desire to sound like a spoilt Society miss.

"Well, the round of parties and balls and entertainments is much like
it was last time.  Perhaps I am becoming a little jaded after all these
years--' Lord Henry burst out laughing.

"Yes, you have a great many years in your dish, ma'am!"  He lowered his
voice.

"Perhaps it is just that you need a change of scene?  Do you go to
Bright on in the summer?"

Polly nodded without much enthusiasm.

"We do.  But it is the same people and the same diversions!"  She
brightened.

"I love the sea though, and find the air most refreshing.  I don't know
why I should not be looking forward to it..."  Her voice trailed away.
She was regretting telling him of her boredom with the endless,
superficial round of society events, for it sounded as though she were
simply complaining.

"Perhaps you prefer the country?"  Lord Henry was saying
thoughtfully.

"Suffolk is a beautiful place to be.  You seemed very happy at Dilling
ham last year."

 "Yes..."  Polly smiled '. I love Dilling ham.  I can ride, and paint
and walk and please myself.  " Lord Henry flashed her another smile.

"So you are a rebel at heart.  Lady Polly!  You wish to please yourself
rather than follow the fashion!"

It was an appealing concept.

"Gentlemen are more fortunate when it comes to such matters," Polly
observed judiciously.

"You may do as you please, but we are watched over and instructed and
restricted... And if we marry, the tyranny of our parents is exchanged
for the tyranny of a husband!"

Filled with a sudden sense of absurdity at her own words, she started
to laugh.

"I wondered whether that was why you had never married," Lord Henry
said quietly.

"Is that the reason, ma'am?  That you had no wish to exchange a
circumscribed girlhood for an equally restrictive marriage?"

Polly's laughter faded and she fell silent.  The only sound was the
noise of the phaeton's wheels and the cooing of the doves in the shady
trees.

"No," she said slowly, 'that was not the reason that I have never
married.  " "Then will you tell me what it is?"  They had reached a
quiet stretch of the road and Lord Henry was allowing his team to slow
down while he concentrated on her.  Their eyes met for a split second
of tension.

"No," Polly said again, half-lightly, half in earnest, "I shall not,
sir!

You have no right to ask so leading a question on so small an
acquaintance!  " She saw Lord Henry smile as he accepted her refusal
and allowed her to retreat.

"I protest," he said easily.

"I have known you for years, ma'am, yet you insist we are as
strangers!"

 "We may have been acquainted for years," Polly agreed, equally
casually, 'but for most of that time you have been away, sir,
travelling or entertaining yourself.  " She frowned as it occurred to
her that she did not actually know what it was that had taken Lord
Henry away so often.

Society whispered that it was scandal--women, gambling, racing--but no
one actually knew.  "Very true, ma'am," Lord Henry agreed, clearly
unprepared to enlighten her further.

"Like you, I find Society stifling if I spend too long in its company!
I have noticed a change in London lately.  Oh, the ton enjoy themselves
as much as before, with as many outrageous amusements as they can
devise, but the rest of the populace is not as tolerant as it used to
be!"

Polly knew what he meant.  There were so many of the dispossessed on
the streets, looking resentfully as the rich and fashionable passed by,
so many men who had served their country at war and now had no
occupation in peace time.  There were many who preached against the
accepted order and agitated for change and some who would be prepared
to resort to violence to get it.

"There is a sort of anger about the city at times," Polly agreed,
shivering in the cool air.

"I sometimes wonder how long things can stay unchanged..."

"Melancholy thoughts for so bright a day," Lord Henry observed.

"My apologies for striking a discordant note.  Why, look, is that not
your esteemed relative Lady Bolt, over there?  Your brother will be
desolate that she has found a richer man in the Duke of Gars ton!"

"Oh, dear!"  Polly looked across to the approaching curricle, where
Lady Bolt was arrayed in a dress of scarlet silk entirely unsuitable
for an afternoon's drive.  A hat adorned with curling ostrich plumes
framed her face.  Polly felt both dowdy and insignificant in
comparison.

"Henry!"  Lady Bolt was hailing them now, with more familiarity than
Polly liked to see.

"How delightful to see you!  Why--' her eye fell on Polly in amused
scorn '--hardly your usual taste, my dear?  So sweet and tediously
dull!"

Polly flushed with anger and mortification.  It would have been
impossible to miss Lady Bolt since the two carriages had to pass each
other, and as she and Henry had slowed down to talk, the Cyprian had
come upon them almost unawares.  Nevertheless it was unfortunate.  The
Dowager Countess would have a fit if she heard of the meeting, and as
for Lady Bolt's barbed insults, it strained Polly's natural courtesy to
accept them without retaliation.

"How do you do.  Lady Bolt."  Lord Henry spoke very coldly.

"I fear I was so engrossed in Lady Polly's delightful company that I
missed your approach!

Good day, ma'am!  " And he gave the horses the office to move off.

"Oh, dear," Polly said again, when the infuriated Cyprian had been left
behind, 'it is so very difficult!  Lucille is so charming and her
sister so much her opposite!  I would not for all the world cut her
dead, but--' "But you have little choice," Lord Henry said grimly.

"Society dictates that a lady such as yourself should not even know
what Lady Bolt is, let alone speak to her--as well you know, ma'am!"

"Yes, but--' Polly was a kind girl; although she detested Susanna
Bolt's nature, she could not help but feel uncomfortable.

"Lucille once said that they were both obliged to find the means to
support themselves, and Susanna chose one course and Lucille another!
It is easy to judge when one has not had to make such a choice!"

"You are all generosity.  Lady Polly!"  Polly knew Lord Henry was
laughing at her, albeit somewhat ruefully.

"Console yourself with the fact that Susanna Bolt is a harpy and you
will then feel no need to sympathize with her!"

"You seem to know her very well," Polly said un guardedly, piqued by
his amusement.

"I know her type," Lord Henry conceded.  They turned through the park
gates and back towards Brook Street.

"I am happy to continue this entirely improper conversation," he added,
'but only if you are willing to admit to being its instigator!  I will
not take the blame for discussing matters unsuitable for a lady's ears!
" "Society can be very foolish," Polly said crossly, 'dictating what a
lady may and may not do, or hear, or say!  It puts me out of all
patience!  " The phaeton stopped and Lord Henry jumped lightly down,
holding out a hand to help Polly descend.  He did not allow their
bodies to touch as he swung her to the ground, nor did he hold on to
her hand for longer than was strictly necessary.  Polly found herself
disappointed.  For some reason the drive had ended on an unsatisfactory
note.  Polly was inclined to blame Lady Bolt's interruption, although
honesty prompted her that this was not really true.

It seemed that she was dissatisfied when Lord Henry behaved properly
and nervous when he did not.  Flirtation was clearly not a game she
could play with anywhere near Lord Henry's aplomb.

The flower cart arrived early in Brook Street the following day,
bringing a beautiful posy of pale pink roses for Polly and a card from
Lord Henry saying that he had been called unexpectedly from Town, but
hoped to see her again shortly.  Polly did not even attempt to hide her
pleasure in the gift, merely burying her face in the soft fragrant
petals when Jessie made pointed comments about fine gentlemen and
pretty gestures.

The days of Lord Henry's absence crept by.  There were only a few weeks
of the Season left to run and the weather had turned very hot.  The
Dowager Countess became quite peevish when her ankles swelled up in the
heat.  She declined to accompany Polly and the Da cres on a sightseeing
trip to St Paul's Cathedral and when her daughter returned enervated
and exhausted, told her that she had known the weather had been too
inclement for a trip out.

She fretted over Peter's absence and when he did call, upbraided him
for his foolishness in still running after Susanna Bolt.  The servants
all became very bad-tempered as they went about their work, and the
house in Brook Street became a somewhat uncomfortable place to live.

"Everyone is so cross at the moment," Polly sighed to Lucille, after
Jessie had grumbled ceaselessly over her decision to change her chosen
dress for a soiree one night.

"Have you noticed how the heat makes people quicker-tempered?  It's
very strange.  Thank goodness there is to be no dancing tonight!  I
feel sure we should all melt into a puddle!"

 Lucille fanned herself vigorously.

"I hear that there were riots in The Strand last night," she said,
frowning.

"Some windows were smashed and shops looted.  I am sure that this
weather can only add to people's grievances.  I shall ask Nicholas to
give all the servants a day off on Saturday, and perhaps we may all go
out of Town to somewhere cooler.

Hamp stead Wells, perhaps?  A walk on the Heath might be quite
refreshing.  " Even the Dowager Countess agreed to the proposed trip,
feeling that the village air would be less noxious than that in London.
The day was sunny but not too hot and they spent a most enjoyable few
hours strolling on the Heath, playing bowls, and taking the waters at
the spa.  Polly declared the water so unpleasant that she needed a cup
of tea to wash away the taste, so they retired to one of the
honeysuckle-covered tea arbours for further refreshment.

"Oh, do let us stay a little longer," Lucille urged, catching sight of
a sign which promised a concert in the pump-room that evening, followed
by fireworks.

"There are plenty more of the gardens and grottoes to explore and it
would be such fun to stay for the evening's entertainments!"

The light was fading when the concert finished and they came out on to
the Heath for the firework display.  It was busy and many of the
benches on the edge of the hill were already full.

"Heavens, what a crush!"  The Dowager Countess exclaimed.

"I had no idea that the whole of Town would have come out for this! Let
us walk a little way along and see if we can find any seats!"

Polly was dawdling along behind the others, pulling her velvet cloak
closer, for the evening was cool now that the sun had gone.  A florid
gentleman and large lady, amorously entwined, bumped into her and
almost sent her flying without noticing.

Polly stumbled.  The first of the rockets soared into the sky above her
and scattered a trail of bright stars.  Suddenly it was very dark and
she could not see the others at all.  The crowd pressed about her;
ladies, gentlemen, servants, tradesmen, cits and people of quite
another sort.

A voice said: "All alone, lady?  Let me take care of you!"  He was
young and attired as a gentleman, but Polly knew him to be no such
thing.  He was also drunk.  And as she looked around wildly for her
family, he took her arm.

"Your help will not be necessary, sir," a voice said smoothly, from
behind her.

"The lady is with me, but I am grateful to you for your
consideration."

Polly recognised the voice even before she swung around to see Lord
Henry March night standing so protectively close to her.  Something in
his demeanour also communicated itself to the man who had accosted her,
for he mumbled something about meaning no harm, and stumbled away. Lord
Henry watched him go with a slight smile then turned his attention back
to Polly.

"Tell me.  Lady Polly," he said conversationally, steering her out of
the crowd to the edge of the path, 'is this part of your claim for
independence, to wander alone on Hamp stead Heath in the dark?  It
seems rather foolhardy!

" "Don't be absurd!"  Polly snapped.  Reaction was setting in now and
she was horrified at what had almost happened to her.

"I have become separated from my party, that is all!  We were looking
for seats for the fireworks--' Another rocket soared overhead as
though to illustrate her point.

"Well, they could be anywhere now," Lord Henry said resignedly, looking
at the crowds.

"It will be best for me to escort you back to your carriage, I think.
They should have no trouble in finding you there.  Is Sea grave here
with you?"

Polly nodded.

"Thank God.  He at least will have the sense to keep the others calm
and search for you in a sensible fashion!  Now, if we go down this path
it should take us to the Well Walk.  Did you leave your carriage
there?"

Polly nodded unhappily.  She knew that the Dowager Countess would be
beside herself with worry and could not but regret spoiling the end of
such a lovely day.

"We were having such a nice time," she said regretfully.

"I am sorry that it has had to end this way."

It was very dark down the steep little passage that led to the street
where the carriages were waiting.  The scent of honeysuckle still hung
in the air and the stars arched above them.  Polly, trying to find her
way in the dark, suddenly remembered that she had not even thanked Lord
Henry for rescuing her.

"I am sorry," she said in a small voice, "I should have thanked you.
Your arrival was most timely, my lord.  I hope that I have not taken
you away from your friends?"

"I am here alone," Lord Henry said, sounding preoccupied.

"It is comforting to think that you feel safer with me than with that
ruffian!"

This was an aspect of the situation that had not occurred to Polly at
all.

She stopped in an arched doorway.  It was not possible to see Lord
Henry's face in the pale light.

"Oh, I never even thought--' she said, uncertainly.

"Perhaps you should have done."  Lord Henry sounded grim.

"You were flatteringly quick to entrust yourself to me, but my
reputation is scarce such that a young lady should consider taking a
walk in the dark with me!"

"Well!"  Polly had had time to become indignant.

"I think it most unfair of you to ring a peal over me for trusting you,
sir!

I had little choice but to consider you the lesser of two evils!"

She heard Lord Henry laugh at that.

"Better the devil you know?"  His shoulder brushed a spray of
honeysuckle and released fresh scent into the air.  He was very close
and Polly suddenly became intensely aware of his physical presence. Her
throat felt constricted.

"Besides..."  she was clutching at straws now 'on the last occasion
that we met, sir, you behaved with perfect propriety!  It led me to
believe that what I had heard of you was grossly exaggerated--' She had
taken a cautious step forward as she spoke, missed her footing on a
step, and felt Lord Henry's arms go around her to steady her.

"You misjudged me," Lord Henry said with satisfaction, 'and this.  Lady
Polly, is where I have been wanting you ever since I saw you this
evening.  " The dark night was intimate and warm.  Polly felt curiously
anonymous, as though she could say anything, do anything, without it
really mattering.

She did not try to break away from him, but stood in the circle of his
arms, their bodies touching lightly.  In the silence she could hear him
breathing.

She raised her mouth to Henry's, waiting in a fever of anticipation
for the gentle persuasiveness of his first kiss to deepen into passion.
She pressed herself against him, entwining her arms about his neck to
hold him close.  He was keeping his kisses frustratingly light, but
when Polly slid her hands into his hair she heard him groan and his
mouth returned to hers with more force and more demand.  She parted her
lips beneath the sensual pressure of his and leaned back against the
doorway, drawing him with her.  It was as though she had become a
creature of sensation only.  Her cloak had slid back and she could feel
the warmth of his body against hers creating a delicious, seductive
need within her.

One of his hands brushed the cloak aside and moved to caress her breast
very gently.  His mouth was rough on hers now and she revelled in it,
gasping his name against his lips.  And then, suddenly, it was over and
she was left shivering in the chill breeze.

"Enough, sweetheart!  It seems I misjudged you, too.  Such sweet
responsiveness will be my undoing!"

There was an undertone of laughter in Henry's voice, but he still
sounded shaken.

"My innocent, wayward Lady Polly--have you any idea just what you are
doing?"

With great deliberation he pulled her cloak close about her and turned
her around.

Polly felt cold and bereft.  She wanted to be back in his arms, wanted
it quite dreadfully.  And yet, all she had ever been taught suggested
that this had to be wrong.  It was desperately confusing.

"I'm sorry--' she began, in a small voice, but Henry took her arm in a
comforting hold.

"Do not be.  It was my fault.  I thought I knew what I was doing, but
you proved me wrong."  She saw him grin.

"You may have been smothered in propriety but it seems there may be a
chance to redeem you!"  He took Polly's face in his hands and kissed
her again lightly.

"Now, we must go down to the Well Walk before I forget myself even
further."

He took her hand and drew Polly reluctantly down the remaining steps,
taking care to let her go before they emerged into the lamplight.  The
carriages were all drawn up on the Walk and Lucille and the Dowager
Countess were already there, turning hopefully at the sound of
footsteps, their faces breaking into relief.

"Polly!  Poor child!  Whatever has happened to you?  You're shaking!"

Lucille enfolded her in a comforting hug.  Over Polly's head she said
to Henry,

"Nicholas is scouring the Terrace, but he should be back directly!

Oh, he will be so grateful.  Henry!  We were so worried!"

Polly shrank into the shadows whilst the Dowager Countess pressed her
slightly more grudging thanks on Lord Henry.  She was sure that she
must look as bemused and dazed as she felt.

"Thank God she came to no harm," the Dowager was saying gruffly, eyeing
her daughter's flustered face and fortunately attributing her confusion
to the shock of being lost.

"We are indebted to you, sir."

Lord Henry smiled.

"By great good chance Lady Polly came to no lasting hurt this evening."
His eyes met Polly's and she saw the wicked twinkle there.  She hoped
desperately that it was dark enough to hide her burning face.

"Do not be too hard on her, ma'am!  I have taken her to task enough for
her behaviour!"

"Harry Marehnight playing the moralist!"  the Dowager Countess said as
the coach rumbled home.

"Who would have thought it!  Evidently he has an understanding of
proper behaviour after all!  I expect he was most uncompromising!"

Polly shivered, remembering the explosive heat of the encounter with
Henry.

There had certainly been little of compromise about it.

"He was indeed, Mama!"  she said, and only Lucille saw the shadow of a
smile that touched her sister-in-law's mouth as she sat back in her
corner of the carriage and dreamed.

It was much later that night when Lord Henry March night strolled
unobtrusively into the card room at White's and glanced around with
apparent lack of interest at the games that were in progress.  At one
table an older gentleman of military bearing was winning steadily at
whist, a shrewd look in his eye and a glass of water at his elbow.

"Fitz patrick has the luck of the devil," Simon Verey said in Lord
Henry's ear.

"How does he do it?"

"Easily," Lord Henry said laconically, without turning his head.

"He is sober--the others are drunk.  It is an unequal contest."

Verey grinned.

"You look as though you could do with a drink yourself.

Harry!  You're uncommon serious tonight!  Is it love or business that
prompts such severity?  " Lord Henry smiled reluctantly.

"A little of both, perhaps... Mr Dit ton is losing heavily," he added
with apparent irrelevance, nodding towards a table where a dandy clad
entirely in yellow was slumped in his chair, scowling ferociously at
the cards in his hand.

Verey was no fool and he knew more than most about Lord Henry's
preoccupations.

 "Dit ton has always been intemperate in his habits," he observed
quietly, 'but lately.  " "Yes, he plays too deep--' Lord Henry broke
off to greet an acquaintance and turned away from the card tables,
moving to a quieter corner.

"Another one for whom matters do not prosper," Verey said, watching
Peter Sea grave weaving his way a little unsteadily between the
tables.

"Extraordinary, I always thought him the most straightforward of the
family!

Nick Sea grave was the very devil for gambling and women before his
marriage and now he's as quiet as a lamb and it's Peter who has lost
fifty thousand in one sitting!"

Lord Henry winced.

"As bad as that?"  he asked.  "And in one of Lady Bolt's preferred
gaming hells, I have no doubt!"

Verey shrugged.

"She has her claws into him now, for all she's after Gars ton's fortune
as well!  He would have done better to settle for that sweet little
Miss Mark ham!"

"In praise of marriage, Simon?"  Lord Henry said mockingly.

"You have become quite the old married man yourself these two years
past!"

Verey grinned a little self-consciously.

"I'll not deny that I count myself the most fortunate of men to have
found Therese," he said, a little gruffly.

"I am only here tonight because my sister Jane is up from the country
and the two of them sent me out so that they could have agossip in
peace!"

"How does the Duchess?"  Henry asked lightly, smiling as always to
think of Jane Verey with so weighty a title.  Her brother laughed.

"She does very well, I thank you!  I shall pass on your regards!  I
doubt she will be in Town for long, for Delahaye returns from the
continent shortly and will no doubt be in haste to claim his wife!  Ah,
these tales of married bliss!  One might almost consider it fashionable
to dote on one's spouse these days!"

Henry took a glass of wine proffered by a passing waiter.

"Almost you convince me, Simon!"

"You?  Parson's mousetrap?"  Verey looked almost comically surprised.

"Do I know the lady?"

"You should do," Henry murmured.

"She is the only one I have ever evinced an interest in marrying!"

Verey spluttered into his wine.

"But...!  presume you mean... But that was five years ago, old fellow!
Mean to say, I thought it was a thing of the past!"

"So it was, but not any more."

"Well!"  Verey sat down a little heavily.

"Am I to wish you happy, then?"

"Not yet."  Lord Henry's gaze returned thoughtfully to the slouching
figure of Tristan Dit ton.

"Certain business is getting in the way.  When it concludes..."

There was a crash from across the room as Peter Sea grave tried to take
his place at a faro table, clutched unsteadily at his chair and
succeeded only in overturning it and drawing attention to himself.

"Hope she has more steadiness of character than her brother," Verey
said gloomily.

Lord Henry grinned.

"Oh, decidedly!  And it may be unchivalrous in me to say so, but she
holds her drink with a great deal more charm!"

Chapter Five QzrfpsQ It will not be long before Mama warns me," Polly
said gloomily as she and Lucille strolled along Bond Street in search
of items for Lucille's belated wedding trip.

"Oh, look, Lucille, those satin dancing slippers are the most exquisite
things!  Why do you not take those with you?"

"I fear they will see little wear in the Lake District," Lucille
observed mildly.

"A pair of stout walking boots would be more the thing!"

"And a parasol to keep the sun off!  Mama would consider it deplorable
for you to return with a tan!"

Lucille laughed.

"A fine figure I shall cut in boots and a parasol!  Why do you not buy
the slippers yourself?"

But Polly's gaze had alighted on an embroidered reticule which would
look perfect with her striped walking dress.

"I have only enough of my allowance left for one purchase," she said
regretfully.

"Oh, look at those beautiful silk gloves!  Now I am in a quandary!"

Lucille laughed.

"Do you need any of these things?"

"Oh, no!  At least--' Polly wrinkled up her nose.

 "Not need, precisely, but it would be pleasant to have them!  Am I
monstrously extravagant?"

Lucille, who privately thought that her sister-in-law was surprisingly
un spoilt for all her privileged upbringing, reassured her that this
was not the case at all.

Once the reticule had been settled upon and bought, and they were
walking on, Lucille said suddenly, "I was attending to you really! What
is it that she will warn you about, Polly?"

Polly looked puzzled, then her face cleared.

"Oh, about Lord Henry March night!  In fact, I am surprised that Mama
has not spoken before now!

It is unlike her to allow me so much licence!  " In the previous two
weeks.  Lord Henry had been much in evidence in Brook Street, calling
on Polly, taking her riding or driving, accompanying her to routs,
parties and picnics.  Polly had tried to take his attentions lightly
but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think that he might
have serious intentions and, oddly, Lucille's next words echoed this.

"I believe that your mama is in a dilemma, Polly," she said
thoughtfully.

"She feels that she should warn you against Lord Henry's advances, but
she cannot quite disabuse herself of the hope that he is in earnest!
Not even your mama is prepared to offend the Duke and Duchess of March
night by suggesting that one of their sons is not a suitable match for
her daughter!"

Polly bit her lip.

"Do you truly think... I try not to let myself hope too much, but--'
She broke off.

"I dare say I should not set too much store by his behaviour.  After
all, he is a shocking flirt!"

"He has not flirted with anyone else since he started to pay serious
court to you," Lucille pointed out quietly.

The colour flooded Polly's face, then receded to leave her very pale.

"No, that's true!  I had not thought... But perhaps he is only flirting
with meY " You may judge for yourself whether Lord Henry is sincere,"
Lucille said with a little smile, 'for I see him coming this way!"

It was true.  Lord Henry March night, in company with the Vereys and a
young lady of schoolroom appearance, was sauntering along the pavement
towards them.  Polly saw him quicken his step as he caught sight of
them and the two parties met and greeted each other with unaffected
pleasure.

"Lady Sea grave!  Lady Polly!"  Lord Henry was smiling at Polly in a
way that made her feel suddenly rather hot.

"What good fortune!"  He turned to the very young lady by his side.

"May I make you known to my sister Laura?"

Laura March night, simply but expensively clad in the demure apparel of
the debutante, dropped a shy curtsy.  She was a sweet-looking girl with
the same corn-coloured hair and grey eyes as her brother.  Polly
remembered hearing that Lady Laura was delicate and had recently
returned from a trip to Bath Spa with her mother, where the medicinal
waters had apparently done wonders for her health.

"We were just planning an outing to Richmond," Henry was saying, his
gaze still fixed rather disconcertingly on Polly.

"Tomorrow, if the weather stays fair.  We would be delighted if you
were able to join us--' he turned courteously to Lucille '--and Lord
Sea grave as well, of course, if he is free."

Lucille, who had been exchanging a few words with Therese and Simon
Verey, looked rueful.

"We are promised for a visit tomorrow and cannot cry off," she said
apologetically, 'but I am persuaded that Polly would be able to make up
one of your party.  What do you think, Polly?  Are you already engaged
for tomorrow?  " Polly shook herself out of the slight confusion which
Lord Henry's presence always seemed to stir up in her.

"Oh, no... yes... indeed!  I have no other plans!  I should be
delighted!"

Therese Verey smiled.

"I am sure your mama will let me stand as chaperon!

Laura is to accompany us, and Simon's sister Jane Delahaye, and one or
two others.  It will be great fun!  " "We thought to ride," Lord Henry
murmured.

"I understand that you are a keen horsewoman.  Lady Polly.  Would such
a plan meet with your approval?"

Polly turned her glowing face to his.

"Oh, indeed, that would be most enjoyable!  I have missed riding out
since I have been up in Town!"

They parted in mutual accord, having agreed that Lord Henry would call
for Polly in his phaeton and drive her to Richmond.  The Vereys
undertook to provide the horses from Simon's extensive stables and
Polly started to look forward to the excursion very much.  She hurried
home to review her wardrobe, certain that she had absolutely nothing to
wear that was worthy of a trip to Richmond with Lord Henry March night.
After she had considered every dress she owned, draping them over the
bed and holding them up in the nun-or, a grumbling Jessie pointed out
that she would be wearing a riding habit anyway.

That meant a choice of green, red or navy blue and Polly chose the
blue, then spent almost the entire evening at the musicale they were
all attending, wondering whether she had made the correct choice.  She
was then struck by the awful thought that it might rain on the morrow
even though it had not done so for several weeks.  All in all, it was a
wonder she had any sleep that night.

Fortunately, it proved to be the most perfect day for a ride.  Polly
had greatly enjoyed the drive to Richmond and the party had met up at
the Roe hampton Gate, taken a ride to Pen Ponds and were now turning
back for a cold collation at the Star and Garter Inn.

"I had no idea that you were such an accomplished rider, ma'am," Henry
March night said to Polly as, out of breath and laughing with
exhilaration, she slowed to a canter as the Gate came in sight once
more.

"I had heard that you were keen, but the two are not always synonymous!
I should have suggested such an outing much sooner!"

His frank gaze admired the colour in her cheeks and the brightness of
her eyes.

"It is pleasant to escape the confines of the Town, is it not?"

Something in his tone reminded Polly of the night at Hamp stead Wells,
when Henry had told her that she was a rebel by nature.  Certainly her
unrestrained enjoyment of a gallop through the park seemed to prove his
point.  They had not approached the intimacy of that night at Hamp
stead again; indeed.  Henry seemed very careful to avoid any behaviour
that could be construed as questionable.  He made sure that they were
never alone together and he treated Polly with utmost propriety.  She
found his behaviour puzzling, to say the least.  She sensed that it did
not come naturally to him to keep himself on so tight a rein, and yet
she was half-grateful that he did not attempt to shorten the distance
between them.  She was confused by her feelings for him.  On the one
hand she wanted more, far more, from him, but she was still held back
by the constraints of her upbringing.

Now, to give herself time, she turned away and studied the sweep of the
land towards the river, the charming little woods scattered about them
and the herds of deer grazing peacefully in the distance.

"Have you seen John Boy dell's aqua tints of the river?"  Lord Henry
said casually, slowing his horse to a walk to allow the rest of the
group to catch them up.

"They are held to be very pretty, I believe."

"Yes," Polly smiled.

"They are quite charming.  And it is such fun to be able to match his
pictures to all the places along the river, but I do believe that he
gives a more rural feel to the prints than is truly accurate!"

"I must suppose that anyone brought up in Suffolk considers the area
around London to be too close to the city to be truly rural," Lord
Henry observed.

"And no doubt I shall shortly be reminded of the difference for myself.
Were you aware that we are to spend some time near Wood bridge this
summer?  My mother has decided that it would be good for Laura's health
to go to the seaside, but to avoid crowds and excitement."

There was something dry in his tone which suggested to Polly that Henry
had very similar views to her own on the Duchess of March night's
mollycoddling of her youngest daughter.  Lady Laura was a little ahead
of them now on her grey mare, her charming countenance turned towards
young Lord Blakeney, who was evincing every sign of pleasure at being
her chosen escort.  Certainly Laura looked the picture of health and
was revelling in the outing and the company.

"I am sorry that Lady Laura has been unwell," Polly said cautiously,
'but she seems much recovered now.  The waters at Bath must have a
remarkably curative effect!  And I hope," she added hastily, seeing
Henry's look of amusement, 'that she will find Suffolk similarly
restorative and not too dull!"

"Alas, I am the one who is likely to find the country slow," Henry said
humourously, 'especially as it will be devoid of your presence, Lady
Polly, which is the only thing that might have made it tolerable for
me!  " Polly could not help blushing.  She was also regretting rather
strongly the Dowager Countess's avowed intent of spending the summer in
Bright on.

Perhaps she could contrive a stay at Dilling ham?  But she did not want
Lord Henry to feel too encouraged.  "Nonsense, Lord Henry," she said
bracingly.

"You have told me many times that you consider Suffolk a vastly
pleasant county!  I am sure you will find plenty to amuse you there!"

Lord Henry's lips twitched.

"It was such a pretty compliment too," he murmured.

"I am sorry it did not please you."

Polly tried not to smile.

"It was very pretty," she agreed solemnly, 'but I was not sure how much
it was worth!  " Lord Henry burst out laughing.

"I cannot put you out of countenance, can I, Lady Polly?  You may take
it as true--I should be very sorry to spend the summer months out of
your company!"

Fortunately for Polly's composure, Therese Verey brought her horse
alongside at that point and Henry fell back to talk to Simon.  They
clattered into the yard of the Star and Garter and were pleased to find
themselves expected and a delicious cold collation laid out on trestles
in the garden.  Polly, drawn into conversation with Therese and Jane
Delahaye over the meal, only noticed Lord Henry's absence as the party
gathered itself to depart.

"Where is Henry?"  Lady Laura asked innocently, as they walked slowly
through the arch into the inn courtyard.

"He was here a moment ago!  I thought-- Oh!"

"Rather showy," Polly heard Simon Verey say to Lord Blakeney, 'and too
short of bone-- Oh, I say!  " The scene in the courtyard appeared to
have a similar effect on all members of the party.  One moment, Polly
thought, they had been chatting amongst themselves and the next they
had all fallen into horrified silence.

There was a carriage drawn up in the yard, pulled by the four showy
white horses which Lord Verey had just been disparaging.  Lord Henry
March night was leaning against the side of the coach and chatting to
its occupant, a smile of appreciation on his lips.  As he saw the group
emerge from the garden he straightened up and Polly saw a fleeting look
of annoyance cross his face as though he had no wish to be interrupted.
A moment later, the lady in the carriage had leaned out and, taking
Henry by surprise, planted a lingering kiss on his mouth.

There was no doubt that Lady Bolt had staged the action for maximum
effect.

From within the carriage she would have seen Henry's companions emerge
through the archway and her sense of malice had done the rest.  And
whilst Henry moved away from her as quickly as he could, the damage
was done.  All the witnesses had an image of Lady Bolt's hands resting
lightly on Henry's shoulders as she lowered her smiling scarlet mouth
to his for several long seconds.  Polly winced at the sight.

After that, everything became a little confused.  Lady Bolt's carriage
rolled out of the yard, rather in the manner of the wicked fairy
vanishing in a pantomime.  Simon Verey had a quick word with Henry, who
seemed to disappear as quickly as Lady Bolt had done.

"In front of his own sister too," Lord Blakeney was saying, outraged,
as he shepherded a pink-faced Laura March night protectively into the
inn.

"Lady Laura, please wait here whilst I have my phaeton brought round!
You cannot drive back with Lord Henry after that--' But here Laura
March night proved surprisingly obstinate.

"I assure you, Lord Blakeney, I have no difficulty in accepting my
brother's escort back to Berkeley Square.  I should be delighted if he
chose to take me up!"

It was a shame Lord Blakeney could not see that he was doing himself
great disservice in Laura's eyes by criticising her brother, Polly
thought.  She was very loyal to Henry.

Polly saw the look of mingled regret and exasperation that passed
between Therese Verey and Jane Delahaye, as Therese said to her, "Lady
Polly, it would be best, perhaps, if both you and Lady Laura drive back
with us.  It will be a bit of a squeeze, but I am sure none of us will
mind..."

And Simon Verey had hastened away to attend to the setting to of his
carriage.

 Polly felt dazed and a little sick.  Whilst she had common sense
enough to see that Lady Bolt had planned the whole encounter, the
memory of it filled her with revulsion.  And Henry was hardly
blameless.  He had been chatting to the Cyprian only a moment earlier
and had obviously been enjoying her company.  Perhaps he had even
arranged to meet her there to arrange a tryst later that day!  Polly's
lost hopes mocked her.  She had begun to believe Henry sincere, to
trust him.  Well, now she saw the error of her ways!

Polly spent the whole of the journey back to Brook Street in a numb
silence and then went straight to her room, declining to tell even
Lucille about the events of the day.  Miserably she wondered why Lord
Henry had made no attempt to see or speak to her before they had left.
He had disappeared with the speed of a man effecting a guilty exit. Had
he approached her it would have been difficult to know how to deal with
the situation, but she would have preferred to have had that
opportunity.

Evidently he had not cared sufficiently about her opinion to make an
effort to explain to her.

Defiantly, Polly put on her favourite dress and prepared for the ball
at Mrs Fleetwood's that evening.  If she was going to have to face Lord
Henry March night and the attendant scandal, she was determined to look
her best.

As Polly had anticipated and dreaded, the tale was all over Town.

"How foolish of Harry..."  Lucille sighed, as she and Polly fended off
the fifth curious gossipmonger 'and how unlike him!  " "I collect you
mean he was foolish to be caught," Polly said tartly.  She sat down
rather heavily and rubbed a foot where her dainty dancing shoes were
pinching.  It did not add to her good humour.

Lucille looked reproachful.

"I mean to have allowed himself to have been trapped by Susanna!  She
is forever up to these little tricks just to amuse herself!"

Polly thought that Lucille was probably right, but she did not have any
sympathy for Henry.

"I am persuaded that Lady Bolt did not force him into any situation
unwillingly," she said coldly.

"I think you are too indulgent of his folly, Lucille!"

Lucille raised her eyebrows at this reproach.

"Well, upon my word, you are very harsh!  Susanna has succeeded
admirably!"

This caught Polly's attention.

"Whatever can you mean, Lucille?"

"Why, simply that Susanna is currently engaged in an attempt to ruin
the future for yourself and Henry!  She has already succeeded in
improving on the estrangement between Peter and Hetty.  I think..."
Lucille smiled serenely '. I hope that she will not accomplish a break
between Nicholas and myself!

I think that beyond even her charms!  " Polly was staring at her
sister-in-law in horror.  "You think that this is all a plot of Lady
Bolt's?"

"Assuredly!  She will engineer any chance to cause trouble!  You should
know that by now, Polly--' Lucille broke off with a little gasp and,
turning her head, Polly saw that the object of their discussions had
just come into the ballroom.  As if to underline Lucille's words,
Susanna Bolt was hanging heavily on the arm of Peter Sea grave.

 "Oh, truly," Lucille said, sounding more vexed than Polly had ever
heard her, 'this is the outside of enough!  " It had been an
unenjoyable evening.  Polly danced a few desultory dances, chatted
half-heartedly and waited in vain for Lord Henry March night to make an
appearance.  They retired early, leaving Lady Bolt in triumphant
possession of the floor and of Peter Sea- grave, and the Dowager
Countess railed ceaselessly against her all the way home.  Polly slept
fitfully and woke with a headache.

"Do you come with me to the Royal Humane Society lecture this
afternoon?"

Lucille asked, finding her sister-in-law sitting quietly in the
drawing-room that lunchtime.  Her eye fell on the improving book which
Polly had been reading earlier.

"Or perhaps you are so enthralled in that righteous to me that you have
no wish to go out!  Etiquette for young ladies!  Upon my word!"

Polly laughed, despite herself.  Etiquette and deportment might be very
uplifting and suitable for a young lady, but it was also tedious.
Somehow the disastrous scene at Richmond had prompted her to revert to
all that was proper and conventional.  She entertained no more hopes of
reforming a rake, particularly as the rake in question clearly cared so
little for her opinion of him that he had not troubled to seek her
out.

The Royal Humane Society sounded to be a very suitable place for a lady
of charity to spend some time and at least she would not be bothered
by Lord Henry's presence there!  Feeling pleasantly virtuous, she
agreed to join Lucille on the outing.

The marble entrance hall of the Royal Humane Society was cool and
shadowy after the brightness of the day outside.  The ladies furled
their parasols and hurried to join the group of people going into the
lecture room.

Polly was astonished to see a number of their acquaintance there.  She
had thought that this latest interest of Lucille's was yet another
slightly eccentric and obscure hobby, but now found that the Society
was a magnet for the fashionable.

"I had no idea that such a lecture would be so popular," she murmured
in Lucille's ear as they slid into their seats and a gentleman nearby
raised his hat and murmured a greeting.  The room was filling rapidly.
Across the aisle, Polly could see the Huntlys and Lady Havisham, and
returned the wave of Miss Dit- ton, a neighbour of the Sea graves from
Suffolk.

"The Society has become a popular means of exercising benevolence,"
Lucille replied quietly.

"You remember that I told you it was originally established by two
doctors to promote resuscitation?  It now hands out medals and rewards
to those people who have helped save lives.  I believe that a small
group of members are researching means of reviving the drowned and the
hanged..."

Polly shuddered.

"How very unpleasant!  I am all in favour of exercising benevolence,
and indeed I suppose that genuine scientific research should never be
discouraged, but what can be the attraction for some of these people?
Why, it is positively ghoulish!"

She touched Lucille's arm.

"Look at Mr Dit ton, for instance!  He is almost slav- Nicola Comtek
87 ering as he talks to that gentleman over there and his eyes are
gleaming with unholy excitement!  Ugh, unwholesome man!  And you cannot
tell me that Mr and Miss Dit ton are here because they like to involve
themselves in charitable causes!  A less benevolent pair would be
difficult to find!"

Lucille laughed.

"I have to agree!  It is a sad fact that the more macabre aspects of
the Society do attract those people who have a fascination with the
gruesome!"

Fortunately, the lecture that afternoon was on the charitable aspects
of the Society's work, Lucille herself having no interest in its more
grim activities.  A number of projects were explained to the listeners,
many of whom were happy to offer financial support.  After the lecture
there was a sumptuous luncheon at which the guests could mingle and
chat, and meet some of the people helped by the Society's work. Lucille
and Polly soon found themselves effusively greeted by the Dit tons, and
were obliged to stop to exchange pleasantries.

Polly had known Miss Thalia Dit ton and her brother Tristan all her
life.

Unfortunately, familiarity had not bred affection.  She found both the
Dit tons bordering on the vulgar with their preoccupation with rank and
fortune.

Beside Miss Dit ton lounged the young gentleman who had the misfortune
to be her betrothed: Mr Bunion was a gentleman of considerable estate,
even though he had no title, and his blank, good-natured face wore the
perpetually surprised look of one who was not at all certain how he
came to be betrothed to Miss Dit ton in the first place.

After a few moments they managed to excuse themselves and were moving
towards the door when Polly clutched her sister-in-law's arm.

"Lucille!  Look!  It's Henry March night, of all people!  Now whatever
can he be doing here?  I am sure Lord Henry does not trouble himself to
exercise benevolence!"

As soon as the words left Polly's lips she regretted them, for it
occurred to her that Lucille herself might have arranged to meet Lord
Henry there.

A moment later she chided herself for even thinking such a thing.  She
knew that her unhappy feelings for Lord Henry were warping her
judgement and making her prone to jealousy.  It was a new and
uncomfortable experience for her.

Lucille followed Polly's look to see Lord Henry, deep in conversation
with one of the Society's members over by a marble pillar.

"Good gracious, you are right, Polly!"  A frown furrowed her smooth
brow.

"It does seem a little out of character, but I must suppose we do not
know Lord Henry well enough to judge him!"

"Well, let us not distract him from his conversation!"  Polly said
hastily, suddenly anxious not to have to confront Lord Henry after the
debacle of Richmond.  Yesterday she had wanted an explanation; now, to
be allowed to withdraw quietly from his company was the best that she
could hope for.  It was now clear that he did not intend to approach
her and she thought dully that she should perhaps credit him with
proper feeling for sparing her that embarrassment.

Lucille was looking at her quizzically.

"You seem very anxious to avoid him, Polly!  You will have to speak to
him again one day, you know!  Perhaps you might even give him the
chance to explain himself!"

 Polly blushed.

"I am embarrassed by what happened yesterday," she admitted, 'and I
wish to give myself a little time to recover.  You must know that I had
started to cherish some hopes for Lord Henry and myself, but now I see
that I was mistaken.  I was prepared to hear him out, but he has not
given me that opportunity, Lucille!  Clearly it is not important to
him!  Best to let the matter pass, I think!  " Lucille looked as though
she would have liked to have argued, but as the Dit tons were
approaching them again they beat a hasty retreat out into the sunshine
and the matter was dropped.

"I do see that the Society serves a worthy cause," Polly said, in
answer to Lucille's enquiry as to whether she had enjoyed herself at
the lecture, 'but I fear I cannot appreciate its more gruesome aspects.
Oh, I am sure it serves a worthy medical purpose," she added hastily,
'but I do feel it encourages people like Mr Dit ton to gloat over
unpleasantness!  As for the benevolent aspects--do you not feel
uncomfortable about the way some people congratulate themselves on
their generosity?  Why, some of them were positively glowing with
self-worth!  Maybe I am unkind--' She saw Lucille smile and added
defensively, " Well, do you not agree, Lucille?  You are always so
discreet in your charitable activities, and never expect fulsome
thanks!  " Lucille laughed.

"Yes, Polly, I do agree with you, as a matter of fact.  I am not at all
certain that I shall be returning to the Royal Humane Society!  And at
all costs we roust avoid your mama discovering our trip to investigate
the Society's activities!  One mention of resuscitating the dying and
she will very likely have a fit of the va pours!"

he ball at Mrs EUery's that night could hardly have been further
removed from the Royal Humane Society lecture, but a number of the same
fashionable crowd graced the occasion.

It was another hot night, too hot for dancing and humid enough to worry
Mrs EUery that she had not ordered enough champagne to quench the
thirst and would be deemed penny-pinching by the ton.  Polly,
vigourously fanning herself after attempting the boulanger with Simon
Verey, could only be grateful that this was the very last ball of the
Season and they would shortly be leaving Town.

The Dowager Countess was chaperoning her daughter to the ball and was
keeping a closer eye on her than she had done at Lady Phillips's. 
Polly returned punctilliously to her mother's side after each dance, as
anxious as the Dowager to avoid any encounter with Lord Henry March
night.  It was not possible to ignore him completely, for Lord Henry
was escorting his sister to the ball, but it was entirely possible to
avoid any opportunity for direct conversation and Polly was bent on
proving this.  Her heart was sore.  He had only been amusing himself
with her, after all.

At the end of the following set of country dances, Polly found the
Dowager Countess seated next to the fearsome Dowager Duchess of
Broxboume, with the Dit tons and a few others in sycophantic
attendance.  Simon Verey had been dancing with Lady Laura March night
and as Polly rejoined her mother she saw Lord Henry at close quarters
for the first time that night, casually bending over his sister's chair
to exchange a few words.  Polly felt the blood come up into her cheeks
as his grey gaze drifted thoughtfully over her.  She avoided his eye
and turned her shoulder so that he was not in her line of vision.
Disconcertingly, she felt as though he was still watching her and that
his gaze contained amusement.  She hated being so aware of his
presence.

"We were talking of the Chapman case," the Dowager Duchess of Broxboume
said, looking at Lord Henry through her lorgnette and permitting a
faint, wintry smile to touch her thin lips.  He was a reluctant
favourite of hers.

"Mr Dit ton was just saying that the desperado has escaped!"

A soft gasp escaped from the lips of those ladies who found themselves
overset at this piece of news.

"Escaped on the way to the gallows, what!"  Mr Dit- ton confirmed
excitedly.

"A whole gang of the felons set upon the cart and overpowered the
guards!

There was rioting in Skinner Street and St John Street, and Chapman
disappeared into the crowds and was never seen again!  " The Dowager
Duchess's large bulk shuddered.  "None of us are safe in our beds! Why,
the man is a robber and murderer!"

 The group looked around as though expecting Captain Chapman and his
murderous brigands to burst in through the ballroom windows.  And,
indeed, it did seem for a moment that the chandeliers grew dim and a
cold wind blew through the room.

The Chapman case had become something of a cause celebre in recent
weeks, its topicality fanned into flames by the radical press.  Chapman
had been arrested during a theft on a gunsmith's and the claim had been
that he was stealing arms for an insurrection.  Further investigations
into Chapman's activities suggested that he had also been behind a
number of robberies of violence perpetuated on members of the ton,
whilst his actions as a rabble-rouser were well known.  The very name
could send a shiver down the spine.  It was as though he had become a
figurehead for the poor, hungry and oppressed, who threatened the
established order.

"They say," Mr Dit ton put in with the same eager ghoulish ness Polly
had recognised in him earlier in the day, 'that the man has a powerful
protector, a nobleman who is bored with his own easy existence and
seeks excitement.

They say that he has spirited Chapman away!  " A murmur of appalled
protest ran round the group.  "Surely not one of us!"

Miss Dit ton said, looking about to faint dead away.

'/ had not heard that rumour," the Dowager Duchess said, a little
irritably.

"Is it certain?"

Mr Dit ton shrugged elegantly.

"Dear madam, who can say?  But it would give a great deal of help to
Chapman and his cronies to have a wealthy supporter!  And not just
that, but a man who has the entree to ton functions--why, such a
person could advise on the subject for a robbery with violence, he
could--' " You're frightening the ladies, Dit ton," Lord Henry said
gently.

Polly looked at him.  He was wearing the same, languid look of boredom
that was his habitual expression in general company and yet for a
second she could have sworn that there had been keen interest in his
face, as though he were absorbing all that Tristan Dit ton was
saying.

"But are you not concerned, March night?"  the Dowager Duchess
demanded.

"Do you not fear for your life?"

Lord Henry smiled.

"Alas, no, ma'am.  I have no energy to waste worrying about criminals
and agitators.  The set of my coat, the quality of my linen-- those are
the matters that preoccupy me!  Excuse me!"

And he strolled away into the card room.

"Well!"  the Duchess said explosively.

"Was there ever such a man-milliner!

I am thankful we do not have to depend on the likes of Henry March
night to defend us from the common people!  " "Of course," Mr Dit ton
said, a sly look on his equine face, 'it may all be a facade, ma'am!
What if--' he leaned forward avidly '--Lord Henry is our man?

The pose of dandy would be a fine way to dispel suspicion!  " This time
there was a shocked gasp from his audience.  Even the Duchess seemed
uncertain how to react.  Polly stood up.  The candlelight seemed
suddenly to make her head ache and she was aware of a constriction in
her throat.  Everyone seemed to have forgotten the presence of Lady
Laura March night, who was looking so pale she looked in danger of
fainting.

"Perhaps you will be so kind as to accompany me to the refreshment
room.

Lady Laura," Polly said firmly, taking the younger girl's unresisting
arm.

"I feel in need of some lemonade.  No, thank you, Mr Dit ton," she said
sharply, as Tristan Dit ton leaped to his feet, "Lady Laura and I will
do very well on our own!"

"Lord Henry is far too lazy to put himself to the trouble of planning
insurrection!"  the Dowager Duchess said, meaning well, but almost
undoing all of Polly's good work.

Mr Dit ton's eyes gleamed.

"You may be correct, your Grace," he said smoothly, 'but how can we
know?  I tell you, I shall be regarding Henry March- night with the
greatest suspicion from now on!  " Laura gave a faint moan.

"Poppycock, Dit ton!"  the Duchess said, pinning her colours to the
mast.

"You should have more care, slandering a man like that!  Lucky for you
March night's too idle to call you out!"

Polly did not wait for matters to get worse.  She practically dragged
Lady Laura along the edge of the ballroom towards the door.  In the
background the music continued to tinkle and a few couples were
attempting the cotillion in desultory fashion.

Polly found that she was very upset and chided herself for her
foolishness.

She could hardly blame others for dismissing Henry March night as
lightweight when he himself encouraged precisely that impression.  It
puzzled her, for the man she knew was in no way superficial, and yet in
general company he appeared to change character and become as shallow
as any other pleasure-seeker in the ton.  For a moment she remembered
that lightning change in Henry's expression from acute intelligence to
amiable blandness, then a stifled sob from Lady Laura recalled her to
the person who had been most injured by Mr Dit ton's malicious remarks
and the Duchess's clumsy attempts to smooth matters over.

"It isn't fair," Lady Laura said passionately, biting her lip to stop
herself from crying.

"Everyone is so unkind about Henry when he is the sweetest person
imaginable!

Oh, I could hardly bear to hear them!  I nearly said something I
regretted.

Duchess or no!"

She looked at Polly, half-mutinous and half- ashamed.  Polly smiled at
her encouragingly.

"Mr Dit ton is unpardonable," she said quietly, 'and her Grace of
Broxboume scarcely less so!  " She put out a hand on the other girl's
arm.

"Please do not regard it.  Lady Laura!  I am sure you are right--you
must know your brother better than any of us!"

"He is not at all as everyone imagines," Lady Laura said earnestly,
gratefully taking the glass of lemonade that Polly passed her.

"People think him stupid, or frivolous, but they do not at all
appreciate his qualities!  Why, I know that he is currently involved in
work which--' " Laura?  " It was difficult to tell whether it was Polly
or Laura who jumped more.

Laura had been engrossed in her attempts to exonerate her brother and
Polly was fascinated by whatever it was she had been about to reveal.
When Lord Henry himself paused beside them they both looked up, flushed
and disconcerted.  He raised an eyebrow.

 "Whatever can the two of you be plotting?  Why, you look the picture
of guilt!"

It was too much for Laura.  Her eyes filled with tears again and with a
murmured word of apology to Polly, she positively ran out of the
refreshment room.

Henry watched her go with a heavy frown on his brow.  He touched
Polly's hand briefly.

"I had no idea that Laura was so upset.  Lady Polly.  I apologise for
interrupting your conversation when she evidently wished to confide in
you."

His searching gaze rested on Polly's face for a moment.

"I had better make sure that she is all right.  Our mother has not
accompanied Laura tonight and I promised to keep an eye on her.  Excuse
me..."

Polly had no inclination to return to the ballroom.  She watched Lord
Henry's tall figure skirt the floor and cross urgently to Lady Laura's
chaperon, saw the lady point and Lord Henry set off in that
direction.

Polly sighed.  It was unforgivable of Mr Dit ton to make such ill-bred
remarks about Lord Henry March- night in front of his sister and hardly
surprising that Laura had been deeply distressed.  Nor did she doubt
Laura's whole-hearted defence of her brother.  For a moment Polly
wondered what Laura had been about to say to her, and she remembered
the incisive look in Lord Henry's eyes as he had listened to Mr Dit
ton.  There was no doubt that Lord Henry was an enigma, assuming a
superficial and indolent air when he chose, but using it to disguise
something deeper.  Surely she could not be the only one to have
noticed?  And yet, it seemed she was.

Mr Dit ton, his sister and Mr Bunion came into the refreshment room,
laughing and chatting, and Polly went out into the ballroom to avoid
them.

It was al most the last dance of the evening; the orchestra was tuning
up again and Polly felt oddly flat.  The Season was trailing away in
rather insipid fashion now that the excitement of her false flirtation
with Lord Henry had ended.  She wished.  "Lady Polly, may I speak with
you?"

She had not seen Lord Henry approaching her, for he had come along the
edge of the dancing floor, where a line of pillars cast a dark
shadow.

What Polly could see, however, was Lady Sea grave advancing
purposefully once more from the other side of the room.  Lord Henry saw
it too and his lips tightened.

"Come and dance with me," he said a little abruptly.  "Your mother will
scarcely pursue us on to the floor!"

It was the waltz which was playing, all too reminiscent of their
previous encounter at Lady Phillips's rout.  Now, however, there was a
definite constraint between them.  There was a heavy frown on Lord
Henry's brow and for a moment Polly wondered whether he was going to
broach the subject of the scene at Richmond.  Her heart beat a little
faster.

"I must thank you.  Lady Polly, for your kindness to my sister just
now.

Clearly you removed her from a distressing situation before matters
could get worse.  I am most grateful.  " Polly felt obscurely
disappointed.  So they were to continue as though nothing had happened,
and yet the barriers between them were now reinforced.

She had little choice but to follow his lead.  Normally so open and
amiable, his expression now was preoccupied and almost severe.  There
was still a frown between those dark brows and an angry set to Lord
Henry's mouth.

"Lady Laura told you what was said, then."  Polly spoke a little
hesitantly.

"I am sorry that she should have been so distressed.  Even if Mr Dit
ton spoke in jest it was in bad taste and ill conceived--' " Would that
I could call him to account for it," Lord Henry said furiously, 'but
just at the moment I can ill afford--' He broke off suddenly,
refocusing on Polly, and some of the latent anger went out of him.

"Oh, well," the nonchalance had eased back into his voice and was
well-feigned, almost convincing '--Dit ton is an unpleasant fellow,
when all is said and done, but not worth disturbing oneself over.  Such
matters never are worth the trouble.  " Had Polly not been so aware of
Lord Henry she might well have been taken in by his assumption of good
humour, but with her own feelings in turmoil she found she could
contain herself no longer.  The words popped out of her mouth before
she even had time to consider them.

"Why do you pretend to be of no account, interested in nothing but
foolish, frippery things, my lord?  I am not taken in by your pretence
that you do not care about Dit ton's words!  It does not cozen me,
though I confess I find other aspects of your behaviour rather more
puzzling!"

For a moment, she saw the surprised speculation in Lord Henry's eyes,
before the bland amiability that so frustrated her returned.

"I collect that you refer to my other exploits.  Lady Polly?  You do
not consider high play and the pursuit of the fair sex to be serious
occupations for a gentleman, ma'am?"

Polly almost stamped her foot.

"I am well aware that you might find them so!  But I know you are
seeking to distract me, my lord, running me about something when I
know you consider it a serious matter... I saw you when Mr Dit ton made
his remarks about Chapman's protector--' She broke off as his hand
tightened warningly on hers.

Her voice had risen as her feelings spilled over, and other couples had
turned curiously to see what was going on.  Lord Henry bent close to
her ear.

"Yes, you can read me better than most, Lady Polly, because I have
chosen to show my true self to you.  And it is also true that I do not
choose to behave in company as I do with my closest friends.  But just
for now, I must beg you to forget what you know of me and accept that I
am nothing more than a foolish, frippery fellow who cares only for the
set of his neck- cloth..."

His mouth twisted into a smile at her look of amazement.

They were very close.  This time there was no attempt to distract her
from the topic.  There was a compelling force in his eyes that silenced
her, demanded her compliance.

Polly's thoughts tumbled over themselves.  Why the pretence at boredom
and dandyism?  What was he hiding?  Perhaps Tristan Dit ton had been
right: a man playing a part; a nobleman, bored with his easy lifestyle,
craving excitement.  But it was not possible!  Lord Henry had
integrity, honour.

Surely, he would never become embroiled in criminal activities simply
to amuse himself.  Polly's troubled gaze searched Lord Henry's face.
"But why are you playing a part?  What--' " Forgive me.  " Lord Henry's
tone had softened as he saw her look.

"I cannot tell you that now.  And forgive my abruptness.  I should not
have spoken so, but it is of the greatest importance that you should
keep your suspicions to yourself.  Lady Polly.  One day I will tell you
why..."

 Polly shook her head slightly, retreating into pride.  "It is of no
consequence if you do not wish to explain yourself--' " Yes, it is of
consequence!  I do not give a rush for what others think of me, but I
do care for your good opinion.  " He was still frowning.

"When I can, I shall explain all to you, including those aspects of my
behaviour which have appeared most questionable!"  A smile lit his eyes
briefly.

"For now, I can only ask you to trust me..."

The music finished with a final flourish but Polly scarcely noticed as
Henry led her back to the Dowager Countess, who had returned to gossip
with the Duchess of Broxboume.  He excused himself immediately.

"My sister and her chaperon have already left and I must make haste to
my next engagement.  Good evening, Lady Polly."  He bowed to the
Dowager Countess, "Good evening, ma'am..."

Polly watched him go.  She was even more confused than she had been
before she challenged him over his odd behaviour.  It seemed that there
were more mysteries to Henry March night than met the eye, and none
would be explained to her in the near future.

Polly's mouth drooped.  She felt tired and bad- tempered with the onset
of a headache.  Nor did the Dowager Countess seem much inclined to
linger.  She was suffering from an unusual reticence resulting from her
part in the unfortunate scene with Lady Laura.

"For it was very bad ton of Tristan Dit ton to speak as he did," she
commented, once she and Polly were in the seclusion of their carriage,
'and though Lady Laura is a little mouse and I had quite forgotten her
presence, I feel badly that I did not give him the set- down he
deserved.  " Polly murmured something in agreement, leaning her head
against the seat and closing her eyes.  Although the day had been
fresh, the wind had now died and the night was almost unbearably humid.
Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance and Polly could see the nicker
of lightning away across the river.

She shivered within her cloak, wishing they were already home.

There seemed to be something malevolent in the air.

They had gone perhaps two-thirds of the way back to Brook Street when
there were sudden violent shouts outside the carriage, making Polly
open her eyes and the Dowager Countess, who had been lulled into a doze
by the rumble of the wheels, jump out of her skin.

Torches flared outside the window, and by their flickering light, Polly
could see a huge mass of figures, jostling and shouting, their faces
twisted and malignant.  There was a sound of breaking glass and the
snap of firecrackers, sudden and shocking, and a growl of excitement
rose from the crowd.  The carriage lurched, slowing to a crawl.

"What on earth--' the Dowager began, leaning forward to peer out of the
window, and then the carriage door was flung open without warning and
the nightmare came in.

Filthy hands caught Polly and the Dowager Countess, and dragged them
forcibly into the street.  The smell of unwashed bodies and the sweet
stench of spirits was in Polly's nostrils.  The howl of the mob was all
around them.

Hands plucked at their clothes, ripping them, and snatching at their
jewellery.  Lady Sea grave was screaming; Polly felt a sharp pain as
her pearl necklace was wrenched from about her throat.  She was blinded
by the glare of the torches and by the tangle of her hair as her
jewelled headband was pulled off.  All about her was the swell of
menacing power as the mob tested its strength--Polly could feel it and
it terrified her.

The coachman was shouting and swearing horribly, his arm raised to
defend himself against the blows raining down.  In all the noise and
confusion, he had not even noticed that Polly and the Dowager Countess
needed his aid, and he would have been unable to defend them anyway.
The footman had been pulled from the box and was hanging on to the door
of the carriage for dear life as the rabble tried to drag him into the
gutter.  And then, for a moment, the crowd thinned and the coachman,
seizing his chance, whipped the horses into a gallop.  The carriage
lumbered off down the street with the mob jeering and stoning it.

"All alone, now," a voice breathed in Polly's ear, but she scarcely
noticed, for before her was a scene from hell that was beyond her worst
fantasy.

There had been another carriage behind theirs in the road, and this one
had been set on fire.  Flames roared from the roof and the open door. A
man was kneeling in the gutter, his evening dress smouldering, his
hands horribly burned and disfigured.  Beside him, a woman was
scrabbling about amongst the cobbles, sobbing hysterically.  Polly
caught her breath as the firelight caught the glitter of something
amongst the cobblestones.  The woman leant forward, but a hundred
hands were quicker than hers, snatching up the coins and precious
stones and laughing in scorn.  The woman sobbed all the louder.

"She's crying for her money," Polly whispered, horrified.

The Dowager Countess screamed again, pummelled and jostled by the mob.
A ragged cheer went up from the crowd as the fire spurted upwards.
Polly shrank back, trying to evade the grasping hands, but there was
nowhere to run.

"And now, my little dove..."  the leary, whisky- sodden voice murmured
again.

"My, you're a pretty one, ain't ye?"

The frenzied scene began to fade as Polly felt herself slipping into a
faint.

Her mother was crying and sobbing, but Polly found she could not cry.
Nor could she fight this inexorable tide that had swept them up and
carried them on a wave of exultant power.  The noise was terrifying and
the darkness, with the flames illuminating those freakish, evil faces,
only added to her fear.

She hardly noticed when a change came over the crowd, so far was she
gone in terror and revulsion.  There was a whisper running through the
mob like wind through corn, and the edges of the crowd began to fray
and break away.

"Don't try... Not worth it... He has a pistol... Two pistols... Let's
go..."

An arm slid about Polly's waist, hard and strong, and she was too tired
to fight.  Let them carry me off and do what they must, she thought
tiredly.  I cannot do any more.  "This is no time for swooning, Lady
Polly," Lord Henry March night's voice said, very calm and very
resolute.

"I must ask you to show some mettle."

 Polly opened her eyes to find that he was real and holding her very
close.

Those brilliant grey eyes were blazing into hers.  The nausea receded a
little.  He gave her a slight shake.

"I need you to be strong now, Polly.  Don't disappoint me."

Polly's chin came up.  Though utterly unprepared for the horrors that
had happened to her, she responded instinctively to the authority in
his tone.

Besides, there was her mother to consider.  The Dowager Countess was
stumbling to her feet, her clothes in tatters, filthy and stained.  The
mob was falling back, hesitant and sullen, slipping away in ones and
twos down the dark alleys and lanes, melting into the darkness as they
had come.

Lord Henry was bending to help the Dowager Countess to her feet and as
he did so, his black cloak swung back and Polly saw the pistols at his
belt.

"The militia are coming..."  The whisper caught and ran round the
remains of the rabble.  The madness was dying.

"Let's go..."

"Can you walk, ma'am?"  Lord Henry was solicitous, his voice betraying
neither fear nor panic.

"If not, I will carry you home.  It is not far, but I think we should
be moving."

The Dowager, like her daughter, had a strong streak of courage in her.
She straightened up and pushed her tumbled hair away from her face.

"I can walk, sir, if you give me your arm.  But the other lady and
gentleman...?  I thought, I was sure... Lord and Lady Ballantyne?"

"They have gone," Lord Henry was saying, already shepherding them away
from the smouldering hulk of the carriage, 'and we can only hope that
they man aged to escape the mob.  We must concentrate on getting you
home safely, ma'am.  " The dark streets were empty, littered with
broken glass and smouldering wreckage.  It seemed to Polly, summoning
the last of her strength to get herself safely back to Brook Street,
that the journey could have taken two minutes or two hours.  The
Dowager Countess limped along, huddled within the tattered remains of
her cloak, leaning heavily on Lord Henry's arm.  His other arm
remained, most improperly, about Polly's waist.  But she did not care
for propriety or convention.  Polly needed the reassurance and strength
Lord Henry's presence conveyed, and would have clung to him if all the
mobs from hell had erupted about them.

Lights flared from the house in Brook Street and the front door stood
open.

Lord Henry helped the Dowager Countess up the steps and into the hall.
The whole place was in uproar.  Nicholas Sea grave, his face tense and
white, was supporting a man Polly recognised with relief as John, the
coachman.  There was a huge, livid bruise on his temple and dried blood
caked to his face.

His eyes were wild as he clutched at the Earl's arm.

The butler, looking almost as shaken as Sea grave himself, was firing
orders at a host of servants who appeared to be running aimlessly in
all directions.

As they came in at the door, there was a moment of complete silence.
Then the Dowager tottered over to the staircase, clutched at the
bannisters and sat down rather heavily on the bottom step.  And Lord
Henry March night, with the casual aplomb that would not have been out
of place at the most exclusive of social gatherings, said, "Your
servant, Sea grave.  I am happy to be able to restore the Dowager
Countess and Lady Polly to you."

Much later, the Dowager Countess had been cosseted and exhorted into
bed by her daughter-in-law, and Polly was propped up against her
pillows, sipping a cup of hot, sweet tea.  She felt light-headed with
exhaustion, but the shock had prevented her from sleeping.  Nicholas
and Lucille, horrified and distressed, had heard the whole story, and
were now sitting at the end of the bed.

Lord Henry March night had slipped away before anyone had had the
chance to thank him properly.

'and the strangest thing," Polly was saying, stifling a yawn, 'was that
Lord Henry appeared to come from nowhere.  And when he did, the rabble
turned tail and fled.  It was most extraordinary.  He is a most
mysterious man..."

Her eyelids were closing.  Lucille gently took the cup from her grasp
and set it down on the washstand.  She tucked up Polly's covers.

Polly could feel herself slipping into sleep at last.  She tried to
rouse herself.

"Lady Laura March night told me that Henry was not as everyone
imagined..."

she said drowsily.

"And now I see it is true.  A man who takes a brace of pistols to a
ball is quite unusual..."

Lucille's eyes met those of her husband.  Nick raised an eyebrow but
did not speak.  Polly slid further down into the bed.  It was warm and
safe, and suddenly she was not afraid any more.  But there was
something else she had to tell them.  It was worrying at the edges of
her mind and would not let her rest.

 With an enormous effort, she managed to get the words out.

"I love him so much, you see," Polly said, quite as though it explained
everything.

"I always have."  And then she slept.

It was early the following morning that Nick Sea- grave called in at St
James's.  The discreet and deferential manservant who answered the door
could not confirm that Lord Henry March night was yet out of bed, a
statement which elicited a look of amused disbelief from Sea grave, if
nothing more.  He was not surprised when Lord Henry joined him within
five minutes, fully dressed and showing no signs that he had recently
arisen.

"I am here to offer my thanks on behalf of all of us for your timely
actions last night, March night," Sea grave said, accepting a chair and
the offer of a cup of coffee.

"My mother could barely be restrained from coming around here to thank
you herself!  Indeed, she will be singing your praises to all and
sundry from now on!"

A smile twitched Lord Henry's lips.

"How very uncomfortable!  I will have to think of a way of dissuading
her!"

"No doubt you'll come up with something," Sea- grave said, also
smiling.  He allowed his gaze to travel around the room, appreciating
its elegant style and tasteful furnishing.  There were a number of
books on the shelves which he recognised but had not touched for years
and some very fine pictures.  Sea grave was not surprised.

"How fortunate for my mother and Polly that you happened to be passing
at the moment the mob turned on them," Sea grave continued blandly.

"Much in the same way that you were passing on Hamp stead Heath the
other night!"

Lord Henry picked up the coffee pot, avoiding his guest's penetrating
gaze.

"It was fortunate, indeed."

"No doubt," Sea grave pursued, 'you had taken a pair of pistols to Mrs
Ellery's ball just to be prepared.  One cannot be too careful these
days!  " Lord Henry, pouring the coffee into large china cups, checked
slightly.

His grey eyes met Sea grave's inscrutable dark ones.

"Ah, the pistols.  I assume... Lady Polly?"

"She's an observant girl," Sea grave agreed, 'but I expect you have
already realised that.  " "Your sister sees a little too much," Lord
Henry agreed, with grim feeling.

He passed the cup across and Sea grave sat back in the chair, savouring
the strong aroma of the coffee.

"I hope," Lord Henry said, 'that neither the Dowager Countess nor Lady
Polly will have taken any lasting hurt.  That was a hellish scene last
night.  Sea grave.  They were both unconscionably brave.  " Sea grave's
mouth tightened into uncompromising lines.

"Chapman, was it?"

he said grimly.

"It was a bad day when he escaped.  How close are you to retaking
him?"

Lord Henry was looking just as implacable.

"Close enough," he said.

"Maybe it would have been last night if I hadn't been diverted on to
other matters!"

"And at Hamp stead?"

Henry shrugged.

"A rumour... a suggestion that he had been seen.  You know how it is,
Sea grave--the rum ours have him everywhere from Clerkenwell to
Chelsea!  But yesterday I was closing in.  I had found out where he had
been hiding."

"At the Royal Humane Society?"  Sea grave asked, with a smile.

"Polly mentioned that she and Lucille had seen you there!  They were
most impressed by your interest in charitable work, old chap!"

Lord Henry laughed reluctantly.

"The only act of benevolence I would like to commit at present is
ridding the earth of scum like Chapman!  It was a masterstroke on his
part to use the Society as cover.  They are so tied up with their own
generosity that they do not even press a fellow for his name.  And what
is one unkempt and ragged fugitive amongst so many dispossessed,
looking for a few nights' shelter?"

"And the tale of a rich protector?"  Sea graves asked, putting down his
empty coffee cup.

Lord Henry hesitated.

"I have my suspicions..."

Sea grave nodded.

"Well, I had better be going.  But I do thank you.  Harry.

If you had not intervened.  I hope it has not damaged your chances of
taking your man.  " Lord Henry gave him a rueful smile and shook Sea-
grave's proffered hand.

At the door the Earl paused.

"If you ever need any help, just let me know.  Oh, and Harry--' The
younger man looked at him enquiringly, "Be careful," Sea grave said.

"I realise why you intervened last night and I would not wish anything
to prevent you from eventually making your declaration!"

And he raised his cane in mocking salute and left a startled Lord Henry
staring at the door.

Chapter Seven Q<$zs$> ) London wilted in the heat of a blazing July.

Polly, made lethargic with the combination of heat and the shock of the
riot, kept largely to her room, whiling the time away reading or
playing patience until Jessie told her sharply that she was turning
into a recluse.  She hardly cared.  Each night her sleep was broken by
snatches of nightmare in which grasping hands captured her and dragged
her away to unspeakable places.

She would wake in tears, gasping for breath, comforted only when she
realised that she was safe in her bed.  During the day she had no
energy or inclination to go out and gradually the invitations
decreased, although plenty of callers still came to see the Dowager
Countess and sympathise with her over her ordeal.  Polly had not seen
Lord Henry since the night that he had rescued them and rumour had it
that he had left London on some of the mysterious, unspecified business
that seemed to take him away sometimes.

Polly's heart ached.  She had needed to see Henry again, wanted to
thank him, and now she felt dissatisfied that matters had somehow ended
in an unsatisfactory way.

 Whilst Polly played patience and the Dowager Countess languished
artistically, Lucille had persuaded Nicholas to make good his promise
of a belated wedding trip to Scotland and the Lake District. Meanwhile,
Peter Sea grave announced with bravado that he would be spending the
summer at a very racy houseparty in Buckingham shire at the seat of
Lord Weller den.

The Weller den carousals were almost legendary for their deep play and
libidinous entertainments The Dowager Countess's mouth turned down in a
line of decided disapproval when she heard his plans, but she said
nothing and Nicholas just commented that since Peter had evidently
chosen to go to hell, he might as well do it in fine style. Remembering
Nicholas's own hell raising some years before his marriage, Polly
thought that he had probably been wise in leaving Peter to follow his
own course.

The Dowager Countess's intention to spend the summer in Bright on had
been quite overset by the shock of being caught up in the riot and she
had decided to go instead to the Sea grave estates in Suffolk, where
the country peace might help calm her shattered nerves.

"Are you sure that you wish to accompany me to Dilling ham, Polly?"
Lady Sea grave asked, a little dubiously, when Polly had said that she
preferred to visit Suffolk rather than go to the south coast.

"The country is very slow and we could easily arrange for you to go to
Bright on.  The Bells are taking a house on the Steyne and I am sure
they would be pleased to have your company, or perhaps the Da cres, but
it must be your choice..."

She looked at her daughter with concern.  Polly had been pale and
listless since that horrible night, and her unwillingness to go out
and shyness in company worried her mother.

Surely the girl needed entertainment and companionship rather than to
hide herself away?  She would never get over her experiences if she
became a hermit!

Polly looked out at the dusty street and thought of the jostling,
raffish Bright on crowds.  The world and his wife would be at the
seaside and there would be company and balls and soirees.  And at
Dilling ham there would be the sun on the corn fields and the river
tumbling to the cold sea and the call of the plovers.  And, of course,
there was the chance that Lord Henry March night might be in Wood
bridge if his plans had not changed since that momentous day at
Richmond.

"Most singular," Sir Godfrey Or bison observed with disapproval, when
acquainted with the Dowager Countess's plan and the fact that his
goddaughter proposed to immure herself in the middle of nowhere for the
summer.

"Tell you what, Cecil ia, you'll never get that girl married off if she
persists in this eccentric behaviour!  Why, I wash my hands of her!

She'll die an old maid!  " He warmed to his theme, sticking out his
ample stomach in its embroidered waistcoat.

"And as for that foolish young puppy, Peter, I've heard he's going to
Weller den's place at Wy combe," he growled.

"Damned fool of a boy, wasting his substance on women and gambling.
Don't know what this family is coming to, Cecil ia!  Dashed bad
form!"

In the event, Suffolk proved nowhere near as dull as Sir Godfrey might
have imagined.  The arrival of the Sea graves and the Dit tons from
London amplified the existing gentry families such as the Fan-ants and
Fitzgeralds, and there were plenty of parties, outings and
entertainments.

Indeed, it sometimes seemed that the whole of the Town had made its way
to Suffolk that summer, and four weeks later, when Nicholas and Lucille
returned early from their wedding trip, Dilling ham Court really came
to life.

"Lucille is in a Delicate Condition," the Dowager Countess said coyly
to Polly, the evening after her son and daughter-in-law had arrived
back.

"She needs to rest, and what better place than here in the good country
air?

And though I am desolated to be so soon a grandmother, I am delighted
that she is enceinte.  It is wonderful news!"

Polly had been visiting the Fitzgeralds when Lord and Lady Sea grave
had returned and so was not able to see her sister-in-law until the
next morning.

Lucille did indeed look a wan sight, propped up on her lacy pillows,
her face a creamish white and her huge blue eyes shadowed with
purple.

"I feel wretched," Lucille admitted in response to Polly's anxious
enquiry.

"We were having such a nice time as well--the scenery was so
beautiful--then suddenly I began to feel hideously unwell and could
hardly bear to be cooped up in the carriage all those hours!"  She
shrugged.

"Well, if this is marriage, I shall go and live alone in a cottage with
a cat and my books!"

Polly laughed.

"I am so sorry you feel so miserable, Lucille!  But think how many
people you have made happy!  Why, Mama is in seventh heaven, despite
what she says about the ageing effect of being a grandmother, and as
for Nicholas, he looks like the cat that got the cream!"

"Well, it's all right for him!"  the Earl's ungrateful wife said
crossly.

"He just had the enjoyable part to play!  But I shall have my revenge
by being a very difficult patient!"

"Have you had any breakfast?"  Polly asked practically, looking round
the bedroom and espying a plate of toast on the table.

Lucille shuddered.

"Your mama sent me some plain toast and dry biscuits--she said it was
the best thing for the sickness, but the sight of it made me feel even
worse!

Monstrous!  And yesterday all I wanted was a pickled egg!"

Polly giggled.

"You will feel better soon, Lucille.  Mama said so and you know how she
is always right!  Now, can I bring you anything before I go out?  We
are visiting the Dit tons this morning, so you may count that as my
punishment and not think yourself the only one suffering!"

Lucille managed a pallid smile.

"Perhaps there are some benefits to being confined to bed, after all!
Come in and talk to me when you get back.  In the meantime, I am
determined to have Nicholas at my beck and call!"

Lucille's interesting condition was the main topic of conversation
amongst the ladies visiting the Dit- tons, but when the gentlemen came
in from the stables, the gossip turned to news of the Dowager Duchess
of Broxboume, who had had all her jewellery stolen in an audacious
midnight raid on her London home the very night before the Dit tons
left London.

"The Dowager Duchess slept through it all apparently," Mr Dit ton
reported, with an excited laugh, 'but now her Grace is refusing to
leave London at all, for fear her entire house will be ransacked!  The
on-dit is that she sits up all night with the butler beside her armed
with a blunderbuss!  " Lady Sea grave shuddered.

"What in the world are things coming to when one is not safe in one's
own home?  Why, I for one shall be staying here in the country until
that felon Chapman is captured!  At least I may take the air in Wood
bridge without being set upon by a gang of ruffians!"

Mr Dit ton leant forward, almost impaling himself on his ridiculously
high shirt points.

"Can you be sure that the country is so safe, ma'am?  They do say that
there is a gang of smugglers who still work the coast near here, so
take care if you choose to step out at dark of the moon!"

"Enough, Tristan," Mrs Dit ton said, quite sharply for her.  She had
seen the Dowager Countess shudder and cast her son a look of profound
dislike, and Mrs Dit ton had no intention of finding her invitations to
Dilling ham Court rescinded.  She cast about swiftly for a new piece of
gossip to distract attention.

"I have heard a far more riveting piece of news," she said, brown eyes
sparkling and her turban a- twitch.

"Mrs Cozens told Maria Wilcox, who told me that the March nights are
coming to Wood bridge!"

There was a sudden silence, but for the muted clink of china.  All
conversations seemed to have been suspended as everyone turned to Mrs
Dit ton for further information.

Lady Sea grave raised her brows.

"How extraordinary!  Are you sure, Eustacia?"

"Well..."  Mrs Dit ton had the grace to retract a little 'it is only
the Duchess and Lady Laura.  I understand that they have been in Bath
these four weeks past.  " again her brown eyes twinkled with gleeful
malice 'but Laura is being pursued by a most unsuitable young man and
the Duchess is at pains to remove her from his company!"

There was a gasp of speculative interest from the assembled ladies.
Lady Laura; only eighteen and the sweetest of debutantes, was the
perfect target for scandal.

"How delicious," Miss Dit ton breathed in excitement.

"Lord Blakeney was paying her particular attention in Town--I wonder if
he followed her to Bath--' '/ had heard," Lady Sea grave said a little
tartly, 'that Lady Laura is delicate and that Sarah March- night was
thinking of a sea break even before they left Town, for the good of
Laura's health.  But why they have chosen Wood bridge.  " and she
frowned at the thought of her hegemony of Suffolk society being under
threat.

"But the most piquant part," Mrs Dit ton finished triumphantly, 'is
that they are to be escorted here by Lord Henry.  Lord Henry March
night is coming to Wood bridge!  " This time the gasp contained a fris
son of excitement as well as interest.

Almost every one of the ladies present had a deep interest in
discussing and deploring the activities of so notorious a rake.  That
he might be about to create a stir in their little backwater was almost
too stimulating to consider.  Lord Henry might be condemned as being
quite beyond the social pale, but he remained one of the most eligible
and unobtainable prizes on the marriage mart.

 Polly, despite having had foreknowledge of Mrs Dit ton's words,
jumped and spilt a little tea on her lilac silk dress.  Miss Dit ton's
sharp brown eyes, so like her mother's, noted Polly's pallor.

"Lud, Lady Polly, the news has quite overset you!"  she said, with
spurious sympathy.

"I do so sympathise.  How can you face the strong rescuer who saved you
from the mob?  How can you look him in the eye after what you have been
through?

I know I should be quite overcome!"

7 shall face him with gratitude," Lady Sea grave said trenchantly,
wading in before her daughter could even speak.

"Regardless of my previous opinion of Lord Henry, I cannot but be
profoundly grateful that he was passing that night.  Such good fortune!
And he was truly courageous in facing down that mob and risking his
life to help us!  I shall not hear another word against him!"

Polly raised her eyebrows at such a staunch defence of a man her mother
had previously dismissed as a dissolute wastrel.

"I vow," Miss Dit ton said archly, "Lord Henry has achieved a champion
in you, has he not, ma'am!  But I would wager all my pin money that it
will not be long before he does something truly dreadful," her eyes
sparkled at the thought of it '--and we are all deploring him for a
villain!  " She cast a spiteful sideways look at Polly.

"After all, remember the incident at Richmond!  I am sure that Lady
Polly will never forget it!"

Someone tittered behind their hand.  Polly felt the familiar fury
rising at this denouncement of Lord Henry, mixed with the pain that the
memory of that day could still occasion her.

 "Lord Henry would no doubt be flattered to think that his activities
could command such interest, Thalia," she said coolly.

Miss Dit ton, reddening, sought to sharpen her claws.

"It must be very pleasant to have your brother and sister-in-law back
at Dilling ham," she said, smiling at Polly.

"And I hear that your brother Peter has been intent on getting to know
Lady Bolt much better!  Such interesting family connections the Sea
graves have!"

Polly knew better than to rise to that.  Miss Dit ton derived all her
pleasure from the little pin-pricks and sharp words that could
discommode her listeners.  She yawned, as though somewhat bored with
the topic of conversation.

"Oh, as to that, Peter has always been a most sociable creature!  I am
blessed with two very amiable brothers.  Miss Dit ton.  No doubt I am
the envy of all about me!"  Polly's gaze lingered just long enough on
Tristan Dit ton to make her point.  In no way could Mr Dit ton be
coveted as a brother.

A tiny frown of annoyance marred Miss Dit ton's narrow forehead and
Polly was grateful when Mrs Fitzgerald came across to join them and
dilute the conversation.  She was afraid that she was about to be very
rude to Miss Dit ton.

The Dowager Countess and her daughter left soon after, with the Dit
tons coming out on to the front steps to wave them off in state.

"Do give dearest Lucille our best wishes and tell her that we shall be
over to Dilling ham soon to see how she goes on!"  Mrs Dit ton
gushed.

 The Countess and Polly exchanged a look, in total accord.

"Poor Lucille," the Countess murmured sotto voce.

"Just when she was beginning to feel a little better as well!"

The unrelenting summer heat continued.  The Dowager Countess had taken
to dozing the afternoon hours away, and with Lucille also confined to
bed and Nicholas out about estate business, Polly would wander in the
shade of the gardens or curl up with a book in the pergola beside the
lake.  It was too hot for riding.  Her mind was preoccupied with
thoughts of Lord Henry March night.  Part of her longed to see him when
he came to Wood bridge, but her practical side told her that this was
unlikely.  Whilst Lord Henry might well escort his mother and sister on
the journey, he would hardly stay long in a provincial backwater which
could hold no interest for one used to far more sophisticated
pleasures.  It seemed even less likely that Henry would choose to seek
her out.  Since he had not called in London after the ordeal, he would
be unlikely to do so now.

Polly frowned, putting her book down on the painted seat of the pagoda
and looking out across the dazzling water of the lake.  There was no
doubt that Lord Henry March night was an enigma.  She had guessed he
was not the foolish dandy he pretended to be, though his reputation as
a rake was perhaps another matter.  But there was something suspicious
in his behaviour.  Mr Dit ton's words at the ball, half- forgotten,
came back to give her a slight shock.  A gentleman who was bored with
his aristocratic lifestyle might well become involved in criminal
activities for excitement.  He might well be lurking during a
riot--could even be an instigator of the discontent that had led the
mob to turn on them.

Polly shivered.  Surely she was being foolish, particularly when she
cared for him as she did.  She could not equate her feelings for him
with such doubts about his integrity.  Yet something did not quite fit.
She got up, intending to walk off her fit of the dismals.  She took the
path which skirted the lake, enjoying the play of light on its surface
and considering whether it would make a suitable subject for her
painting.

Polly had not picked up her paintbrush since returning to Suffolk, but
it was an activity which she thoroughly enjoyed and she had some skill.
It was a beautiful day to be outside, although a little too hot for
comfort, but Polly's parasol kept the direct sunlight off her face.

The Dilling ham lake drained, by way of a small stream and a sluice
gate, into the River De ben, and Polly slipped through the little gate
and took the riverside path.  Strictly speaking, this was not Sea grave
land and belonged to Charles Far rant, but Polly knew he would not mind
her trespassing.  The Fan-ants and the Sea graves had grown up
together.

There was a small fishing-house a little way further down the bank.
With a smile, Polly remembered that this had been the scene of various
childhood expeditions in the hot summers of years that had gone by;
they had sat on the balcony of the fishing-house, dangling their lines
in the river and losing patience before they had caught anything.  The
boys had been allowed to swim, but her governess had scolded Polly for
asking to join in too, and had only reluctantly allowed her to dangle
her bare feet in the water of the pool inside the fishing-house. Polly
smiled at the memory.  The pool, lined with coloured tiles and marble
imported specially by Charles Far rant's father, had always fascinated
her.  The water had been so clear and deep, shadowed and secret.  She
was minded to peek inside just to see if the reality was anything like
her childhood memories.

Polly pushed open the fishing-house door and, in the split second that
followed, her startled gaze took in everything before her.  The
interior was smaller than she remembered, but the tiles of a swirling
green and blue were just the same.  Light filtered down from the
balcony above, dappling the water and illuminating the statues of
mermaids and merman, which, in varying states of tasteful undress,
lined the walls.

Polly certainly did not remember them.  Her gaze lingered,
half-shocked, half-intrigued at the sensuous display.  Then she looked
again at the pool and experienced a sensuous shock of an entirely more
physical nature.

The pool was occupied.  Polly, her hand still on the latch, took a
hasty step backwards.  And at that moment Lord Henry March night, his
wet, fair hair as sleek as an otter's pelt, hauled himself out of the
pool, the water running down his bronzed torso, shimmering droplets
glistening on his naked body.

Polly gave a strangled squeak.  She clapped her hand over her mouth,
then wondered foolishly if it would be better to shield her eyes, since
she seemed incapable of tearing her gaze away from Lord Henry's body.

His nakedness was a shocking echo of the classical poses of the
statues.

But they were inanimate, whilst he was all too vividly alive.  The
strong, graceful lines of his body were utterly compelling.  Somehow,
Polly managed to raise her gaze to Lord Henry's bare, broad chest,
where it appeared to become fixed once again.  He had an excellent
physique, she thought dazedly, without an ounce of fat, the powerful
shoulders and chest tapering to the narrow waist and down to strong
thighs, all too clearly displayed to her view.

Lord Henry turned aside in leisurely fashion to reach for the towel
which lay across a wicker chair and Polly's fascinated gaze followed.
Then, as he finally draped the towel about his waist, she was released
from the spell and met his eyes, full of speculative amusement.

"Have you seen enough.  Lady Polly?"  Lord Henry asked, scrupulously
polite, his hand hovering suggestively over the knot at his waist.

Polly could not answer.  A huge wave of heat washed over her,
compounded of sheer sensual awareness and burning embarrassment.  Even
as her mortification struggled for mastery, she was aware of other,
more demanding and disturbing feelings, feelings she could not control
or understand.  She turned on her heel, bumping clumsily against the
door in her attempt to get out of the fishing-house more quickly.  The
path was rough beneath the flimsy soles of her shoes as she ran from
him.  The sun suddenly seemed blindingly hot, the grasses threshing
against her skirt, the colours spinning in a whirling kaleidoscope.
Behind her, she thought she heard Lord Henry shout,

"Polly!

Wait!"

She did not turn.  Branded on her mind was the vision of Lord Henry's
naked perfection, overlaid with the conventional gloss of how utterly
she had humiliated herself and that she would never be able to face him
again as long as she lived.

She did not see the rabbit hole, did not realise her danger until she
had tripped headlong into the grass and nettles to lie still, winded,
with tears of pain and embarrassment stinging her eyes and the sound of
Lord Henry's footsteps drawing ever closer.

Chapter Eight QyssQ roily brushed the tumbled hair out of her eyes and
hastily attempted to sit up.  A sharp pain shot through her ankle as
she tried to put her weight on it.  At the same time, tiny stinging
patches of nettle rash seemed to rise on every exposed bit of skin.
With a groan she lay back in the grass.

The blue sky was abruptly blotted out.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  Lord Henry March night
demanded, with something less than his customary aplomb.

Even through her pain and misery, Polly was aware of relief that he had
taken time to dress before he had followed her.  He was not, perhaps,
as immaculately turned out as usual, but there was something powerfully
attractive about the sight of such casual dishevelment.  Polly turned
her head away with another groan.  To be able to think of nothing but
Henry March night's attractions at a time like this argued a disordered
intellect.

Henry's gaze took in her tumbled hair and the lines of pain on her
white face, and his tone changed abruptly.

 "You're hurt!"  He stretched out a hand and Polly flinched back,
trying to scramble to her feet.  She saw the angry colour come into his
face at her reaction, though his voice remained level.

"I assure you that you can trust me.  Lady Polly.  I am not so far gone
in debauchery as to take advantage of a de fenceless woman!  Besides,
what were you intending to do--get up and hop away from me?  Attack me
with your parasol, perhaps?"

He had gone down on one knee beside her in the grass now.

"This is no time to be missish."  He had taken her ankle in his hand
now and was exploring it with gentle fingers warm against the silkiness
of her stockinged foot.

Polly closed her eyes in an agony of confusion and mortification. Still
shocked and aroused by their confrontation in the fishing-house, she
found his touch almost unendurable.

But there was nothing remotely suggestive in Lord Henry's behaviour.

"You have sprained your ankle," he said in matter- of-fact tones.

"I doubt that you could walk on it even if you wanted to!  I will take
you back to the Court.  It is not far."  He scooped her up in arms that
made nothing of her weight.

Polly had started to feel very unwell.  The heat and the pain were
making her head swim and the colours all seemed too bright and blurred.
She turned her head against Lord Henry's shoulder, forgetting for a
moment her earlier discomfort in his presence.

"Oh, no, you cannot!  I cannot allow--' Her qualms surfaced again
before they had gone more than twenty steps.  Lord Henry did not even
slow his pace.

"Indeed?  Can I not?"  He sounded grimly amused.  "And how do you
intend to stop me?"  He settled her more comfortably in his arms.

"Close your eyes, if you cannot bear to think of being in my arms!"

After the bright glare of the sun, the cool entrance hall at Dilling
ham Court was blissfully shaded.  Polly, who had been lulled into
comparative peace by the gentleness with which Henry had carried her,
opened her eyes with reluctance.  Medlyn was hurrying across the hall
towards them, his brows almost disappearing into his hair at the sight
of Polly clasped close to Lord Henry yet again.  It was beginning to
look like a habit.

"Lady Polly!  Lord Henry!  Whatever has happened, sir?"

"Lady Polly has fallen and hurt her ankle," Lord Henry said tersely.

"Send someone for the doctor please, Medlyn, and if you could show me
to Lady Polly's room " Put me down!  " Polly hissed in a mortified
whisper.

"Certainly not," Lord Henry said, in exactly the same terse tone.

"Do not be so foolish!  You cannot stand!"

"I can try!"  Polly said obstinately, her mouth set in a tight line.

Lord Henry looked as though he would have liked to have slapped her if
he had had a hand free.

"Pray do not martyr yourself Fortunately, the drawing-room door opened
at that moment and the Dowager Countess and Nicholas Sea grave came out
into the hall, stopping dead at the sight in front of them.

"Polly!"  the Dowager Countess said faintly.

"What on earth " Lady Polly has sprained her ankle," Lord Henry said
again, with commendable patience.

"If someone could show me to her room?"

 "Of course."  Nicholas Sea grave had recovered himself and now
appeared to be trying to suppress some amusement as he considered his
sister's flushed face and her unwilling rescuer.

"Bring her this way, March night!  Has Medlyn sent for the doctor?  Oh,
good... Here..."

Polly's pillows were soft beneath her head.  She could feel her mother
fussing around her as Sea grave steered Lord Henry out of the room.

"Wait..."  It came out as a croak.  She opened her eyes.  Despite her
mortification, there really was something she had to say.

"Thank you, sir," Polly said, reluctantly looking at Lord Henry, and
for a moment she saw the expression in those dazzling grey eyes soften
as he smiled at her.  It made her feel quite weak, and not from
sickness.

"At your service.  Lady Polly.  I hope that you will be feeling better
shortly..."

"We're indebted to you for your help yet again, March night," Sea grave
was saying pleasantly, shaking his hand.

"A glass of something before you go, perhaps?  If you come down to my
book room..."  The door closed behind them.

There was a moment of silence, then, "Polly," the Dowager Countess said
imperiously, "I demand that you tell me what is going on!"

Polly's lashes flickered.  For a moment she hesitated, but it really
was easier to pretend that she had fainted.  She gave a little sigh,
turned her head on the pillow, and lay still.  She heard the Dowager
Countess sigh with exasperation.

"Polly Sea grave!  I vow and declare that you are the most trying child
sometimes!"

Polly vouchsafed no reply.

 "So," Lucille said, patting the bed beside her to encourage her
sister-in-law to sit down, 'you may now tell me precisely what happened
between yourself and Harry March night!  " It was a week since Polly's
accident and she had proved a poor patient.

She had kept to her room for the first day or two, resting her ankle as
the doctor had instructed, but the enforced inactivity had begun to
bore her and she had begged Sea grave to carry her down to the
drawing-room, where she could at least have some company.  And on this
particular morning, she had hopped into Lucille's bedroom as her
sister- in-law was taking her morning chocolate.

Lucille was much better.  The morning sickness that had brought her low
whilst travelling had now receded and she looked radiant.  She fixed
Polly with a wicked look over the rim of her chocolate cup.

"Do not seek to cozen me!  Oh, I know the story you have told your
mama!

But it stretches my credulity too far to believe that you happened to
be strolling by the river and tripped, and Henry March- night was just
passing and was able to rescue you when you fell!  So?  " Polly
hesitated.  She could not deny that it was heaven to have Lucille back
to confide in.  The Dowager Countess was very kind under her starchy
exterior, but it would have been impossible to tell her mother the
story of what had really happened.  And since Lucille had been shrewd
enough to guess at the fabrication.  "Well," she said cautiously, 'it
was true that I was walking by the river.

Mr Far rant has a fishing-house down there--just beyond the edge of our
land--and for some reason I felt compelled to go and explore it.

 I don't know why.  " The memory of Lord Henry's magnificent physique
came back to Polly, as it had done countless times in the past week.

"I

wish--oh, how I wish I had not gone in there!  " Lucille's lips
twitched.

"Come, now, it cannot be so tragic!  Was Lord Henry in the
fishing-house?"

"Yes!"  Polly raised stricken brown eyes to Lucille's blue ones.

"But he was not fishing!  That would have been quite innocuous!  Oh,
Lucille--' Lucille raised her eyebrows.

"I see!  I have not been in the house, but Nicholas mentioned it had a
plunge pool below the balcony.  They used to swim in the river in the
hot summers, he said, but..."  Her eyes widened.

"Oh, glory, Polly, do you mean to say that Lord Henry was in the
pool?"

Polly nodded.

"Yes, but--' " But?  " "He was getting out of the pool--' Lucille
clapped her hand to her mouth, her eyes enormous.

"Oh, Polly!  Was he-- Did he-- Was he undress edT " Completely!  "
Polly admitted.  She saw Lucille's appalled gaze and added miserably,
"I know!  And what did I do but stare in the most shameless manner
imaginable!  I do not know what came over me precisely!  But, Lucille,
I could not tear my gaze away!"

Lucille, with her superior experience and understanding of such
matters, rather thought that she could understand how Polly had become
so transfixed.

Despite her years, Polly was rather an innocent, as no doubt she ought
to be.

It seemed to Lucille that the Earl and Countess of Sea grave had gone
to great lengths to protect their only daughter, with the result that
Polly seemed like Sleeping Beauty, quite lacking the innate, age-old
understanding of the games played between the sexes.

Polly seldom flirted or practised her charms on any of her admirers.
She seemed quite unawakened, and yet there was something about Lord
Henry March night which obviously stirred her, and it clearly both
intrigued and frightened her.

Lucille's sense of humour began to get the better of her, despite
Polly's tragic expression.

"I imagine Lord Henry must have been well worth looking at!"  Lucille
said, trying not to laugh.

"Lucille!"

"Well?"  Lucille's blue gaze was amused.

"There is no harm in admitting it, Polly!  Leastways, not to me, though
I dare say your mama would not approve!  Come, it is not a tragedy!
Lord Henry is a very attractive man, and you have a tend re for him...
It would be more worrying if the sight of him had left you unmoved! But
whatever happened next?"

"I ran away," Polly said baldly.

"Which was how I came to trip and fall, and Lord Henry came after me--'
" Fully dressed by now, I hope!  " "Yes, indeed!  But when he offered
to help me I was all missish, for I was so embarrassed to have stared
so, and so confused... I have never felt that way before, at least not
with anyone else..."  Polly's voice trailed off hopelessly.  There was
a moment's silence, then Lucille patted her hand.

"Listen, Polly, there is nothing to be ashamed of in your behaviour.
Such matters are not discussed, I know, but your reaction to Lord Henry
was entirely natural!"  She looked at Polly's woebegone face and smiled
encouragingly.

"You have nothing to reproach yourself for."

 "No," Polly said wretchedly, 'but Lord Henry already has a low enough
opinion of me, Lucille!  He will be thinking me the veri est light
skirt!  I did not tell you before, but do you remember the morning you
went on the picnic, and how poorly I was feeling?  " At Lucille's nod
she rushed on.

"I

became intoxicated with the fruit punch at Lady Phillips's Ball the
night before, and then I tried to tell Lord Henry that I wished us to
be friends, but I got it all wrong and he ended up kissing me on the
terrace and it was dreadful--' Lucille was looking thunderstruck.

"Wait, wait!  What on earth were you doing drinking the punch?"

"I thought it was fruit cup," Polly said, suddenly and unaccountably
wanting to giggle.

"It was a very hot night, you see, and the drink was so refreshing...
Anyway, such a pea goose as I was, I did not realise that I was
intoxicated!  So when I had the chance to speak to Lord Henry I felt
marvellously brave, but he did not interpret my words in quite the way
I wished and before I knew it he was kissing me--' Suddenly she felt
the laughter welling up again, and once she had started she could not
stop.  Lucille put her cup down and sat in amused bewilderment.

"Polly, Polly!  Whatever happened?"

"I told you," Polly said, between giggles, 'he kissed me!  " "And you
said it was dreadful."  Lucille finished.

"Well, no..."  Polly's giggles started to subside at last.  She wiped
her eyes.

"The kiss itself was not dreadful, it was quite delightful..."

Again, her voice faded away as she remembered the stirring of her
senses, so intriguing and yet so frightening.

"I wanted him to go on kissing me for ever," she finished naively.

"Well, what is so wrong with that?"

Polly's eyes were enormous.

"But, Lucille, a lady does not kiss a gentleman before they are
married!"

She frowned.

"And then, when he rescued me at Hamp stead Wells..."  again she found
herself repressing a giggle at Lucille's rapt expression 'why, I
positively threw myself at his head!  He must think me very fast!  " "I
doubt it," Lucille said drily.

"It all sounds highly comical to me and hardly the stuff of which loose
women are made!"

Polly, to her own surprise, started to laugh again,

"Yes, I do see what you mean!  Although I have to say that there were
certain similarities between my conduct and that of Lady Bolt at
Richmond!"

"No, truly?  I have underestimated you, Polly!"

"That is what Lord Henry said!"  Polly admitted with a giggle,
provoking a look of speculative amazement from her sister-in-law.

"Now, Richmond..."  Lucille tried to look severe.

"I assume that you have not discussed it with Lord Henry?"

Polly sobered slightly.

"No, and I cannot see that we shall ever do so.  I am still resigned to
the fact that there is no future for me with Lord Henry, for he is
clearly unable to abandon his rakish habits."  A shade of colour crept
into her face.

"Indeed, it is one of the reasons why I feel particularly badly about
my behaviour."  She struggled a little for the words.

"It is not as if... that is... were we betrothed..."

But Lucille was smiling again.

"It does not do to worry too much about such things, Polly!  I have
the strangest feeling that all will turn out for the best.  Lord Henry,
I am persuaded, thinks no less of you for your conduct."  Her eyes
twinkled.

"Your folly in becoming foxed, however, is a different matter!"

Polly found herself laughing again in spite of herself.

"Yes, it was unforgivable in me and really very unpleasant to boot!  I
am sure Lord Henry thinks me a complete fool, which is dreadful!  And
now this business at the fishing-house... Oh, Lord, I really have made
a complete cake of myself!"

And she collapsed into fresh giggles.

Lucille was also laughing.

"And you think this a calamity?  It's the funniest thing I have heard
this age!"

"Yes!"  Polly raised eyes brimming with tears of laughter.

"I see now that it is!  Oh, thank you, Lucille!  I feel so much
better!"

"Our encounters seem to be becoming ever more dramatic.  Lady Polly,"
Lord Henry March night murmured, taking the seat next to hers in Mrs
Fitzgerald's drawing-room a week later.

"Is it possible for us to converse in a seemly fashion, do you think,
or will something untoward occur simply through our proximity?"  There
was a blend of mockery and amusement in the low tones which Polly found
infinitely disturbing, but she was not going to allow him to put her
out of countenance.

He had not called to see her during her convalescence and that alone
was enough to make her treat him coolly.  Although she would never have
admitted it, Polly had waited in vain through the hot summer days,
hoping that each peal of the doorbell might be Lord Henry, or that each
floral tribute might be his.

 She should have known better--it was all of a piece with his
behaviour in London--but it made it no easier to bear.

She gave him a cool smile.

"Provided that you are able to behave yourself we may do tolerably
well, sir," she said lightly.

"And now that I am so much better, I shall at least be able to make my
escape!  But--' her smile gained a shade of warmth '--I have not yet
had the opportunity to thank you for the service rendered to us in
London that night--' Lord Henry touched her hand so briefly, so quickly
that no one noticed; Polly thought she might have imagined it were it
not for the sensation of warmth his touch aroused.  She looked away,
confused.

"Do not speak of it.  I am just glad that no real harm came of the
occasion."

Polly reflected that Lord Henry's attractions lay not only in his
undeniable physical attributes but also in his charm of manner.  She
had hardened her heart against him and yet she could feel herself
weakening already.  He spoke as though she were the only person of
importance in the room and the intent look in those cool grey eyes was
for her alone.  And yet it had to be an illusion, for Polly had seen
him charming a dozen other women with that mixture of concentrated
attention and lazy grace.

In the days of Henry's absence, Polly had taught herself to be
sensible.

She had accepted Lucille's dictum that the feelings aroused in her by
Lord Henry were perfectly natural, but she was not at all sure that she
wished to experience them again.  Lord Henry was a rake who understood
such matters; Polly was aware of her own inexperience and timidity and
she had no intention of letting Lord Henry, whose intentions could
only be dishonourable, complete her education.  But avoiding him would
be difficult in the small social circle of Wood bridge, and remaining
impervious to his charm was even more of a problem.

To distract herself, she turned her brightest smile upon him.

"And what do you find to amuse you in Wood bridge, sir?  It must be
intolerably dull for one accustomed to more sophisticated
amusements!"

Lord Henry raised his eyebrows.

"And what other pursuits do you imagine me preferring.  Lady Polly?"

Polly blushed.

"Now, sir, I warned you--' " I assure you it was a genuine question,"
Lord Henry said idly.

"People have the most extraordinary preconceptions about my behaviour,
you see!"

"No doubt completely without foundation," Polly said with asperity,
meeting his bright, guileless gaze.  She smiled.

"Tell, me then, sir, to avoid misunderstandings, what it is you find of
interest in this part of the country."

"Well..."  Lord Henry looked thoughtful 'for a start, my father has
commissioned me to oversee the making of his new yacht down at the
boatyard, so that keeps me busy for part of the time.  Charles Far
rant, over at Leet wood, is a good friend of mine, so I have spent some
time there.  Then there is the society to he had here and the
entertainments in the Town.  But above all, Suffolk is so pretty a
county I feel I could walk and ride and swim--' he cast Polly a wicked
sideways look '--for as much time as I have available to me.  So you
see, I do not lack amusement.  " Polly had been feeling quite in
charity with him, until the mention of the swimming, for she found
Suffolk the prettiest and most tranquil place on earth.

 Now, however, the vision of Lord Henry emerging from the pool was
before her eyes again and she knew she had turned bright red.  Worse,
she knew that he knew what she was thinking of, for he said, very
softly, "It was a most stimulating encounter.  Lady Polly."

"I would call it shocking, sir."

"No, not at all... enjoyable, provocative..."  She knew he was teasing
her, pushing her to see how much licence she would allow him.  And
indeed, it was most difficult, Polly thought, for he made her feel so
much less prudishly conventional than normal.  There was a quickening
in her blood in response to this banter and he could read the signs,
knew she was responding to him even against her better judgement.

"Enough, Lord Henry!"  But Polly could not prevent herself smiling and
she saw him incline his head, though his eyes were still bright with
challenge, as if to say: "I will accept your decision this time but I
know that you are weakening..."

"You will be wishing me away, then, ma'am," he said politely.

"You must consult your own inclination, sir."  A faint smile touched
Lord Henry's eyes.

"Oh, as for myself, ma'am, I could sit here all day!  But I promised my
sister I would ask you a favour."  He nodded in the direction of Lady
Laura, who was sitting under the watchful eye of the Duchess.

"Laura feels a little isolated out at Fen church alone and I know she
longs for a change of company!  You have been good enough to show her
some kindness in the past.  May I beg the pleasure of bringing her to
you now?"

Lady Laura had caught his eye and was looking hopeful.  Polly
smiled.

"By all means.  Lord Henry.  I should be delighted."

The arrangement was soon effected.  Lady Laura took the seat beside
Polly and they chatted pleasantly for ten minutes, with Lord Henry
adding the odd, laconic comment every so often.  Laura expressed
herself very taken with Suffolk, although a little lonely in the house
out towards the sea on the Or ford road.  She explained that the
Duchess had taken it with the thought that the bracing sea air would do
Laura good, although she had not felt herself pulled down by her weeks
in London.  Polly's poor opinion of the Duchess's domineering ways
grew.  It seemed that she wanted to keep her daughter in what almost
amounted to seclusion.  Laura admitted to liking the house and its
situation near the beach, but regretted the lack of companionship close
by.  She was about to venture some further comment when Charles Far
rant, who had been conversing with Miss Dit ton, drew up a chair and
asked if he might join them.  Laura blushed and fell unaccountably
silent.

Polly observed this development with amusement and not a little
surprise.

Mr Far rant was hardly so romantic a figure that a young girl would
develop a tend re for him.  He was in his late thirties, pleasant and
slightly earnest, and he had a look of complete dog like devotion in
his kindly eyes as they rested on Laura.  She in turn, seemed unable to
look directly at him, but with shy smiles and sideways looks indicated
that she was not indifferent to his presence.  Polly, catching Lord
Henry's speculative gaze as he assimilated this unlikely attraction,
shared a look of conspiratorial indulgence with him.  A moment later,
he suggested that they go and admire Mrs Fitzgerald's gardens
together, leaving the smitten couple to progress their surprising
romance.

"Who would have thought it?"  Lord Henry said pensively, helping Polly
descend the wide, shallow stone steps which led from the drawing-room
to the chamomile lawn.

"I have the greatest regard for Far rant, but I never imagined he would
set the world on fire!  Yet Laura seems to find him agreeable enough,
and has done so from the moment they first clapped eyes on each other
at Fen church!"

He slanted a look down at Polly's serene face.

"I am further in his debt, for I imagine you would not have consented
to step outside with me were you not tempted to play matchmaker!

Shall we take a seat beneath that oak tree?  You should not walk far
until your ankle is fully mended.  " They were still in full view of
the house and it seemed perfectly proper.

The tree cast a cool shade and Polly sank on to the seat with some
gratitude.

"Thank goodness!  It really is too hot in the full sun!"

"Are we really mere acquaintances, to be discussing the weather?"  Lord
Henry asked lazily.

"I can think of far more interesting topics!"

It occurred to Polly that the proximity of the house and the fact that
anyone could see them from the window would not deter Lord Henry from
his customary outrageous behaviour.  His hand was lying along the back
of the wooden seat behind her and she was almost certain that he was
touching her hair.  A moment later he had entwined one of her ringlets
about his fingers, just brushing the sensitive skin of her neck as he
did so.  Polly moved her head sharply away.

"Will your parents look with kindness on an attachment between Lady
Laura and Mr Far rant?"  Polly asked, both to distract Lord Henry and
also because she had a genuine interest in Laura's future.

Henry sighed.

"I doubt it.  They intend her for John Bel lars--' He stopped as he saw
Polly's face.

"I know Bel lars made you an offer and you refused him, and no doubt
you share my opinion of him!  But rank and consequence will always be
in demand..."  He shrugged, as though the thought made him a little
uncomfortable.

"Is Lady Laura receptive to his suit?"  Polly asked hesitantly.  She
did not wish to be thought prying, but she could not believe that a
girl who was showing all the symptoms of love, as Laura was, could be
easily persuaded to look at another man.

"She was indifferent to all the plans made for her," Henry said
bluntly, 'until she met Far rant.  I observed her partiality from the
start and wondered at it!  But it will make matters devilishly
difficult.  Well--' he shrugged again '--we will see.  " He smiled at
Polly.  " A little while ago we were discussing my interests here in
Suffolk.  What do you find to do with your time in this delightful
backwater?  " Polly accepted that he wished to change the subject.

"Oh, I go riding when it is not too hot, and I walk and read and paint.
I have a fondness for watercolours although I would say my talent is
small.

And as you have seen, there is much company to he had."

"Yes, though not all of it congenial," Lord Henry observed.

"I find myself becoming ever less tolerant of poor company these days.
I rate intelligent conversation and good company above all other claims
of rank and importance!"

 "Outrageous!"  Polly said, trying not to laugh.

"You were not always so selective, sir!"

Henry raised an eyebrow.

"Can you be taking me to task, Lady Polly?"

There was a martial light in Polly's eye.

"Your attentions are bestowed somewhat indiscriminately, my lord!"

"I protest!  There is no truth in those rum ours!"

Polly looked sceptical.

"How can you deny it, sir?  I suppose that at the least I should
commend your taste in admiring my sister-in-law!"

Lord Henry raised a lazy eyebrow.

"I collect that you refer to Lady Sea grave?"

"How many other sisters-in-law do I have, sir?"  Polly snapped, wishing
she had not started on this line of conversation.

"Can you deny that you hold her in great esteem?"

"Certainly not!"  Henry said promptly.

"She is a woman of great good sense and I admire her extremely!  But
that is all there is to it!"

Polly noted how relieved she felt and perversely wished to punish
him.

"That at least could be understood I suppose!  But as for Lady Bolt! Do
you forget that I saw you with my own eyes at Richmond?"

"Ah."  Lord Henry stretched his long legs and admired the polish on his
boots.

"I wondered whether you would ever have the courage to challenge me
with that particular incident!"

"Courage!"  Polly was really annoyed now.

"It does not require courage, sir, only a little less regard for
convention than you would usually find in me!  I certainly have the
fortitude to accuse you of trifling with my feelings and of falling
prey to Lady Bolt's blowsy charms!"

Henry was laughing now, which only added to Polly's anger.  Normally
she would never have spoken thus.  To challenge a gentleman about his
behaviour was simply not done, particularly if that behaviour involved
a member of the demimonde.

"How unladylike in you to disparage a rival!  I would never have
thought it of you.  Lady Polly!"

Polly was incensed.

"Lady Bolt is no rival of mine!  She is welcome to you, sir!"

She tried to rise, but Henry caught her wrist and held her still.

"You think, then, that I had arranged to meet Lady Bolt at Richmond?"

Polly tried to sound scornful.

"I had assumed that to be the case!  Or perhaps I misjudge you! Perhaps
you simply seized an opportunity that presented itself to you?"

Henry was still looking amused but there was now a grim edge to his
smile.

"Oh, no, you are quite correct!  I did arrange to meet Lady Bolt, but
perhaps not for the reason that you suspect!"

"I am sure we were all able to guess what that reason was, sir!"  Polly
was smarting now from having her suspicions confirmed, and in so
apparently unconcerned a way.  Evidently Lord Henry was dead to all
sense of propriety!

"And if I were to say that I was more sinned against than sinning? More
kissed against than kissing, perhaps--would you like to know how that
feels.

Lady Polly?"

Their gazes locked for a heated moment, then Polly glanced
instinctively towards the house, a bare twenty yards away.

 "You would not dare!"

"A dangerous assumption!"

Afterwards, Polly was never quite sure how much had been duress and how
far she had moved of her own volition.  Certainly Henry had kissed her
and when he had stopped she had been in his arms, with no indication of
how she had got there or how long she had been there.  Indeed, she had
no memory of anything other than the delicious pleasure of being kissed
by him, a pleasure it would have been foolish to deny since her body
was betraying her enjoyment by pressing closer to him.

"Oh, dear.  Lady Polly," Henry said with regret, 'it seems that the
experience was not so repulsive for you as it was for me with Lady
Bolt!  " He gave her a mocking smile that made Polly want to slap him
and with an unforgivable breach of good manners, abandoned her on the
garden seat and strode off indoors.

"Oh!"

Polly only realised that she had spoken aloud when she saw the Dowager
Countess hurrying across the lawn towards her.

"Are you unwell, my love?"  her mother asked, her face creased with
concern.

"You sounded quite as though you were suffering from the indigestion!
And Lord Henry implied that you are not feeling in quite plump currant.
He said that the sun had gone to your head!"

"Oh!"  Polly thought that she would explode with indignation and
outrage.

"Conceited, intolerable man!"

The Dowager looked concerned.

"Really, my love, I do think you might show a little more gratitude!
Lord Henry has done us more than one great service!  If you find you
cannot like him, at least you could pretend!"

Chapter Nine QysQ roily was mortified when Lord Henry chose to escort
his mother and sister to Dilling ham the following day.  She had spent
a restless night tossing and turning, reproaching herself for her hasty
words to him and for giving him the opportunity to humiliate her
further.  It was only when she had become calmer that Polly had
wondered what Lord Henry had meant by saying that his reason for
arranging to meet Lady Bolt had perhaps not been what people might
think.  Though she puzzled over it, Polly could think of no explanation
other than the obvious.  It was another mystery to add to all the other
riddles surrounding Henry March night.

Fortunately Polly was not required to sit in the drawing-room and make
polite conversation with him.  Nick Sea grave offered to show Henry the
stables and the two of them went off, leaving the ladies alone.

The Duchess and the Dowager Countess Sea grave had never been close
friends, but they quickly found common ground in mutual acquaintances
and experiences, and when they were comfortably established, Laura
turned to Polly with a shy smile and asked if she might see the
orangery.

"I have heard that it dates from the seventeenth century and is very
fine,"

she confided, as they strolled along the covered colonnade that
connected the main part of the house to the conservatories.

"Mr Far rant, who was telling me something of the history of the house
and the village, said that lemons were grown here as early as 1690 and
that your family had wanted to carry on the tradition!  Only fancy!  He
is a very agreeable gentleman, is he not?"

Polly, who had allowed her thoughts to drift in the inevitable
direction of Lord Henry, was amused and a little surprised at the
determined manner in which Laura had already steered the conversation
on to what interested her.

She smiled.

"Indeed, he is!  We have known Charles Far rant for an age and always
found him a most pleasant and congenial man."

"I was surprised," Laura said a little hesitantly, avoiding Polly's
gaze, 'that such an amiable man was as yet unmarried.  But perhaps he
has some understanding with.  that is, perhaps there is a lady.  " Her
voice trailed away and she fixed Polly with a hopeful look from her
grey eyes.

Polly pushed open the orangery doors and they entered the humid
interior, heavy with the scent of citrus.

"Oh, no, I think it is simply that Mr Far rant has not yet met a lady
who made him wish to give up his bachelor state!  He was a great
admirer of Lucille-- Lady Sea grave--before her marriage, but I believe
he has never sought to enter the state of marriage himself!"

 Laura was listening with attention.  Polly was diverted by the
concentration the younger girl was devoting to the topic.  Clearly it
mattered to her a great deal.

"And his family?"  Lady Laura pursued, pretending to admire the orange
trees in their ornamental tubs.  "It is perfectly respectable, is it
not?"

Polly's lips twitched.

"Oh, entirely unexceptionable!  But..."  she hesitated, thinking it
only fair to sound a word of caution 'forgive me, I have no wish to
pry, but I am not entirely sure that Mr Far rant would be smiled upon
as a suitor for the daughter of a Duke!  His estate is relatively small
and although the family name is an old one--' She broke off, shocked,
as Laura burst into tears and sat down rather heavily on one of the
painted wooden benches.

"Oh, my dear!"  Polly, both taken aback and touched, sat down beside
her.

"I am so sorry!  I had no wish to upset you--' " No," Laura said,
groping for a handkerchief, 'it is entirely my fault, Lady Polly!  Oh,
thank you--' as Polly pressed her own handkerchief into her hand '--it
is just that I love him so much and I do not think that I can bear
it!"

Polly was silenced by this frank admission.  Evidently the March night
household was not one in which feelings were repressed--or else Laura
simply felt so strongly that in her youth and inexperience she could
not conceal it.

"It is as you say," Laura was continuing desperately, dabbing at her
reddened eyes.

"I believe that Henry had no objection for Mr Far rant is a friend of
his, but Mama spoke to me this morning--she said that Mr Far rant,
whilst being a perfectly pleasant man, was not a suitable match for
me.  She felt that his attentions were becoming too marked and that I
should discourage him.  But I don't want to discourage him!"  Her voice
rose.

"I am sure Mama will warn him off!  Or I shall be sent away!  Oh, what
shall I do?"

Polly reflected that she was not necessarily the best person to advise
Laura on the wisdom or otherwise of going against her family's
wishes.

Laura was the same age as she had been when she had been persuaded to
refuse Henry's proposal, although Laura could not know that.  For all
her gentleness, Laura March night seemed to have more certitude and
determination than Polly had ever felt.  She was certain of her love
for Charles Far rant and would not scruple to admit it.  Polly,
remembering her own doubts and indecision, felt curiously unqualified
to advise her.

Fortunately Laura seemed to feel better simply as a result of pouring
her heart out, and was now drying her eyes and tidying herself.

"I expect I look a shocking fright," she said, with a brave attempt at
a smile.

"I do apologise, Lady Polly--' Polly touched her hand.

"Do not!  Believe me, I can understand how you feel!  And that is why
my advice is that you can only follow your heart.

But make no hasty decisions!  It may be that your parents may relent
when they see how steadfast is your affection.  " The bright light of
determination was suddenly in Laura's eyes.

"Oh, I will!  Thank you!"

"You had better come up to my room to tidy up," Polly said, getting to
her feet.

"It is unconscionably hot in here, anyway!  And it is fortunate that it
is such a sunny day!  We may tell your mama that the sun has made your
eyes water!"

 It was unlucky that they came down the staircase at the moment the
gentlemen were crossing the hall from the stables.  Henry gave his
sister a searching glance and followed it up with a no less penetrating
look at Polly, which she tried to meet with equanimity.  Laura's eyes
were still a little pink and puffy, and her hastily proffered excuse
that she had been out in the sun met with Henry's look of blandest
disbelief.  He made no demur, however, when Polly suggested that they
join the others.

"I supp pose Laura has been telling you of the scene about Charles Far
rant,"

he said sotto voce in Polly's ear as he held the drawing-room door for
her.

"It is to be hoped that you were suitably un encouraging!"

Polly's eyes flashed.

"I seem to remember that you professed friendship for Mr Far rant
yesterday!"

she hissed, under cover of ringing the bell for more refreshments.

It was impossible to pursue any further conversation, but Polly's heart
sank when she considered the implications of Henry's words.  If he was
not prepared to support his sister, her case looked unhappy indeed.

Fortunately, the Duchess did believe Laura's pretence where her son had
been more discerning.  Scolding Laura for going out in the sun without
a parasol, she also scrutinised Polly's complexion for blemishes and
gave a small nod when she failed to spot any freckle.

"Perhaps Lady Polly might like to accompany me out into the
garden--with a parasol, of course," Henry suggested wickedly.

His mother frowned.

"A splendid idea, my boy, but not today!  Had you forgotten that we are
promised to the Fitzgeralds shortly?"  She lumbered to her feet and
gave a gracious farewell.  Polly wondered fleetingly whether Laura
would ever be as fat as her mama.

"Charming," said the Duchess, pinching Polly's cheek painfully on her
way out.

"Quite delightful.  You are to be congratulated on your daughter,
ma'am!  We shall see you again soon, I hope!"

Nicholas Sea grave was trying unsuccessfully to repress his laughter as
they watched the coach rumble off.

"I believe you have just been given the maternal seal of approval.
Poll," he observed.

"What an accolade!  The Duchess of March night favours you as a
daughter-in-law!"

Polly, examining her mixed feelings, was obliged to acknowledge that
one would have to love Henry very much to willingly accept such a
mother-in-law.

"Well," the Dowager Countess said fairly, "Laura March night is also a
charming child, dutiful and well behaved!  Sarah March night was only
saying just now that Laura had never given them a moment's trouble!
Why, Polly--' she looked at her daughter with concern '--you look quite
pale all of a sudden!  Too much sun, I suppose!  Oh, the evils of a hot
summer!"

Polly was in fact dwelling more on the twin evils of leading the
innocent Lady Laura astray and being considered as a potential bride
for Lord Henry.

If her mother only knew the advice she had dispensed to Laura but
fifteen minutes ago!  And the irony of suggesting that Lord Henry
should marry anyone when he was so obviously incapable of a necessary
steadiness of character!

Polly wandered slowly back up the steps as her mother forged on ahead,
instructing Medlyn to have the drains checked, "For this heat is
causing all kinds of noxious va pours!"

 The sound of horses' hooves on the gravel gave Polly pause just as
she was about to go inside.  A lone horseman was galloping up the
drive, sliding from the saddle in front of her and flinging his reins
carelessly to a grinning groom with a familiarity that suggested that
he was happy to be home.

"Peter!"

Peter Sea grave picked his sister up and twirled her about.

"Hello, Poll!  Who was that visiting just now?  Pretty little piece,
ain't she!"

"Peter," Polly said with asperity, 'that was Lady Laura March night and
she has come to the country precisely to avoid rakes such as
yourself!

Besides," she added with a little smile, 'you will have to fight
Charles Far rant for the privilege--he only met her a sennight ago but
he is already smitten!"

"Oh, well..."  Peter let her go and gave her a smile that seemed a
little frayed at the edges '. I'll secede graciously to Far rant's
prior claim!  I daresay I am not very welcome here, am I?  But I had
nowhere else to go!  " Polly slipped her hand through his arm.

"You are not in Mama's good books, certainly, but you know she is
always glad to see you at heart!  What has happened, Peter?"

"Pockets to let," her brother admitted reluctantly.

"I haven't a feather to fly!  Oh, God, Poll, I've been an unmitigated
fool!

I heard that Hetty had become betrothed to Edmund Grantley and I got
blind drunk and let Weller den's cronies fleece me.  So I've come to
throw myself on Mama's mercy!"

"It's not just Mama," Polly said, bluntly.

"Nicholas is here too.  He and Lucille returned early from their tour,
for Lucille is increasing.  You have missed all the news, Peter!"

"So it seems," Peter said, clearly torn between pleasure at the news of
an impending niece or nephew and concern at finding his brother
unexpectedly in residence.

Polly squeezed his arm.

"It will be all right.  But how did you hear about Hetty's
betrothal?"

"Lady Bolt told me," Peter said bitterly.

"She was at Weller den's place.

Said she'd had a letter from Hetty herself!  Straight from the horse's
mouth!

" Polly reflected that there were plenty of things one might call Lady
Bolt, of which a horse was the most flattering.

"I scarcely think Mrs Mark ham likely to allow Hetty to correspond with
Lady Bolt," she said carefully, 'foster sister or no!  I think you may
have been duped, Peter!  " Her brother seemed much taken by this
idea.

"Lord, I never thought of that!"  He paused in the entrance hall.

"The scheming harpy!"

"I thought you were much struck by Lady Bolt," Polly said, suppressing
a giggle.

"I remember that you admired her exceedingly and were most cast down
when she favoured Gars ton over you!  You do not sound so complimentary
now!"

Peter shot his sister a darkling look.

"Dashed improper of you to say so, Poll, though you may be right!"  He
grinned suddenly.

"The truth is the woman's a dishonest dory!  And anyway, I couldn't
afford her!"

Polly, enchanted by this graphically unflattering description of Lady
Bolt, nevertheless tried to get back to matters which were more
important.

 "But what do you intend to do about Hetty?"  she asked demurely.

"This news of a betrothal may all be a hum, Peter, and you do still
care about Hetty, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Peter said crossly.

"The silly chit is supposed to be marrying me, not Edmund Grantley!  I
tell you.  Poll, it goes against the grain with me to sit here and do
nothing, but what can I do?  Can't rush to Kings mar ton and call the
fellow out, can I?"

"At least you could go to Kings mar ton and find out what is going
on,"

Polly suggested hopefully.

Her brother looked unconvinced.

"Suppose I'd better go and beard Nick in his lair before I decide what
else to do," he said glumly.

"He's bound to cut up rough at me losing so heavily to Weller den.
Still, I'm not the only pigeon his lordship is intent on plucking!  I
heard that March night was due to arrive in a couple of days' time and
you know what a gamester he is!  Lady Bolt was aux anges to hear that
he was joining them!"

"Lord Henry?"  Polly was amazed and, she discovered, annoyed.

"But he has been here in Wood bridge these four days past!  He has just
been here now!"

"Well, he's expected at Weller den's place shortly," Peter asserted
incontrovertibly.

"Heard about it from Weller den himself!  Like I said.

Lady Bolt is waiting for him in an agony of impatience!  She don't let
her bed go cold!  " And with this final, scandalous sally he strolled
off to Sea grave's book room, unaware of the variety of emotions, all
of them unpleasant, which he had aroused in his sister's breast.

Peter stayed only a day at Dilling ham, much to his mother's dismay.
He had an uncomfortable interview with his elder brother, emerging
silent and tightlipped from Sea grave's room after half an hour.

The next morning Peter left for Kings mar ton at first light.

"I do hope that matters will sort themselves out," Lucille sighed,
sitting with her sister-in-law under a huge tented pavilion which had
been erected on Dilling ham Court's green lawns.

"Perhaps I was wrong to encourage Hetty to accept Peter last year.  She
is very young, after all, and marriage is a very serious business.  She
has shown a sad unsteadiness of character these months past--' " So has
Peter,"

Polly said frankly.

"This outrageous business of Lady Bolt, for example!  He and Hetty
deserve each other!"

Polly knew she sounded bad-tempered even before Lucille gave her a look
of amused concern.  Peter's intelligence that Lord Henry was taking up
with Lady Bolt again should not have surprised her, but it had
certainly made her very crabby.  To have to console the Dowager
Countess over Peter's abrupt arrival and departure had been almost too
much to bear, when his advent had brought her such unwelcome news.

"Upon my word, you sound very severe!"  Lucille said calmly.

"Quite as though you are suffering the gout!  Perhaps your own affairs
are not prospering either?"

"You are very acute, Lucille," Polly admitted with a half-smile,
feeling some of her good humour start to return.

"The truth is that I seem to have been dispensing advice liberally
these past few days, yet I can only seem to make a mull of my own
business!"  She sighed and got to the point.

"I

understand from Peter that Lord Henry March night was taking his place
at Weller den's houseparty--in more ways than one!  " Lucille put her
book down.

"Here's a tangle!  You mean to imply that Lord Henry has taken up with
Lady Bolt?  Surely Peter is mistaken?"

Polly shrugged pettishly.

"Is it so surprising after that flagrant public display at Richmond?
Oh, Lord Henry denied it to me, but I did not believe him!  What an
extraordinary woman!  Peter, Lord Henry and the Duke of Gars ton all in
the space of a few short weeks!  Anyway--' she shrugged again '--I
neither know nor care!  I am done with Lord Henry!  He is forever
flitting hither and thither like some will o' wisp!  It tries my
patience!"

"He certainly seems very busy for a man who has no purpose in life,"

Lucille agreed, straight-faced, remembering certain secret information
Nicholas had imparted to her about Lord Henry's activities.

"No purpose!"  Polly's indignation was well established again now. Like
many people who were seldom disagreeable, once she really lost her
temper she had to give it full rein.

"He seems to have purpose enough in gambling and debauchery!  And to
take up with Lady Bolt, who has been bought and sold by half of London!
Well, I will not take her leavings!"

"Oh, dear," Lucille said, lips twitching into a smile, 'you are
hopelessly in love with him still!  " "In love!  I have a mind to many
the next man who asks me!"

Polly caught Lucille's eye and her anger simmered into reluctant
amusement.

"Well, no doubt I am a fool to want a man to be other than he is..."

"Not at all!"  Lucille stretched like a cat in the warmth of the
sun.

"Rather, you would be a fool to settle for second best!

But I am still not entirely sure that Lord Henry has succumbed to
Susanna's rather overblown charms!  " She yawned.

"And let us hope Hetty does not feel as you do, or Peter may return
home without her!  She certainly has a great deal to forgive in his
behaviour!"

Polly sighed.  Despite the bright promise of the day, she felt
strangely discontented.

"Love!"  she said crossly.

'"Most loving mere folly," Lucille quoted lightly,

"Lord, why do I feel so tired all the time?"  And she fell asleep where
she sat.

The interview with Peter had obviously made Nicholas Sea grave as out
of sorts as his brother.  He was curt almost to the point of rudeness
at lunchtime, announced that he had a number of visits to make about
the estate and asked Polly, somewhat surprisingly, whether she would
like to join him on the ride.  As the day was fine and cooler than of
late, Polly agreed with alacrity.  They called at a couple of the
tenant farms, had tea and cakes at each since Polly was too
kind-hearted to refuse the offer, and finished with a gallop along the
springy turf at the edge of the sea before turning for home.

The fresh air and exercise had quite restored Polly's spirits and it
was unfortunate that as they entered the lime avenue that led up to
Dilling ham Court, the cause of her ill-humour should appear before her
eyes and undo all the good work of the afternoon.

Lord Henry March night, on an elegant bay, was just trotting down the
drive and reined in hastily at the sight of them.

 "Lord Sea grave!  Lady Polly!  This is good fortune indeed!  I am
just come from the house, where I was told you were out about the
estate.  I came to take my leave, for I shall be departing Suffolk on
the morrow."

Coming so quickly after Peter's assertions, this could only confirm
Polly's suspicion that Lord Henry was for the Weller den houseparty.
Her chestnut mare jibbed slightly as her hands tightened involuntarily
on the reins.

"Is this a permanent departure, Lord Henry?"  she enquired sweetly.

"You seem to be forever travelling hither and thither!  Such a busy
life!"

Out of the corner of her eyes she thought she saw a nicker of a grin
cross her brother's face, but Lord Henry remained impassive.

"A temporary separation only, Lady Polly," he said, very courteously.

"As you know, I am as fond of Suffolk as anywhere on earth!  I shall be
back as soon as I am able."

Polly made a great show of examining her riding gloves.

"And where is your present destination?"  she enquired, as though it
was of no great moment.

"I have heard that Buckingham shire is proving very popular this
summer!"

Lord Henry raised his eyebrows.  He was looking so lazily amused that
Polly felt herself go hot with annoyance.  So he thought it a diversion
to trifle with her feelings and then go after other game as the fancy
took him!

"Good luck and godspeed then, Harry," Nick Sea- grave said, leaning
over to shake his hand.  Polly, watching this display of masculine
complicity with irritation, nevertheless noticed the significant look
which passed between the two men.  She frowned a little as Lord Henry
turned his horse and cantered away.  It was almost as though Sea grave
knew something, and yet what was there to know?  Lord Henry was, by his
own admission, a man whose prime concern was to seek after pleasure,
and if there were other, more mysterious, aspects to his character,
what could Nick Sea grave know of those?

"I collect that you were wishing him good luck in his gambling," she
said crossly.

"In all his ventures," Sea grave agreed smoothly.

Lady Laura March night was becoming a regular visitor to Dilling ham
Court, where she and Polly would walk together in the gardens or set
their easels up with some idyllic aspect before them, in the hope of
capturing it in watercolours or charcoal.  Laura made no further
reference to her burgeoning relationship with Mr Far rant, and at the
evening soirees and parties in Wood bridge, under the watchful eye of
the Duchess, she appeared to be avoiding him.  Polly was sad but not
surprised that rank and consequence had won the day.  In the face of
the Duchess's powerful disapproval, it was difficult to see how the
romance could have prospered.

She asked no questions but simply enjoyed Laura's company, which was
certainly a welcome change from that of the Dit tons.

The Dit tons were relentlessly sociable, especially with those they
sought to cultivate, and it was difficult to avoid all their
invitations.  Polly, having managed to excuse herself from a trip to
the theatre in Wood bridge in their company, found that good manners
forced her to accept the next pressing invitation, which was to make up
a party to visit Myrmingham Abbey, a former Franciscan priory whose
ruins were particularly romantic and picturesque.

The scenery was indeed very fine but the company a sad trial with Mr
Dit ton uncertain whether to bestow his dubious compliments on Polly or
Laura, and Miss Dit ton sulking at not being the centre of attention.

"Lady Polly is becoming quite tanned," Mrs Dit ton observed to the
Dowager Countess, with a hint of malice, as they returned to the
carriages at the end of the day.

"I should not encourage my Thalia to wander about in the sun without a
parasol!"

Lady Sea grave looked hard at her daughter but could observe no more
than a healthy colour.

"Polly looks very well," she said coldly.

"And she always wears a hat with a very wide brim!"

They all returned from the outing in a scratchy mood that the romantic
ruins had done nothing to soothe and Polly was sorely tempted to reject
the suggestion that they all go to the Fair at Cold Hollow two days
hence.

Rather to her surprise, however, Laura March night seemed very eager to
attend and almost begged Polly to go with her.

"The Fair is accounted to be great fun.  Lady Polly," Laura said,
looking hopeful.

"I am persuaded that you would enjoy it a great deal!"

Her anxious face relaxed into a smile at Polly's reluctant
acquiescence.

In the event, Polly rather enjoyed the spectacle.  Cold Hollow was only
a small town, but its Fair was famous for miles around.  The
proceedings were opened by the Town Crier ringing the revels in as the
Mayor processed down the street, accompanied by four civic dignitaries.
They seemed very full of their own importance and Polly and Laura
could not help but laugh at their rather tattered livery of gold and
blue.

Once the ceremonial part was over, the traders and stall holders were
free to start peddling their goods.  The visitors strolled between the
booths, admiring the variety of entertainments, from livestock to a
small circus.

Tristan Dit ton was persuaded to show his prowess in the boxing booth,
despite Mrs Dit ton's protests that it was not suitable in front of the
ladies.  He took a heavy fall almost immediately against the Suffolk
Champion, Mal Mar combe.

"Oh, dear," Lady Laura whispered in Polly's ear, "I believe Mr Dit
ton's pride has taken the heaviest tumble!  He looks quite furious!  Do
let us stroll on ahead, Lady Polly, and avoid his ill temper!"

The day was fine with a light breeze, and it was fun to meander through
the crowd, eyeing the attractions.  Lady Laura caught Polly's arm.

"Oh, look, a gypsy fortune-teller!  I am minded to go in and discover
my destiny!"

Polly hesitated, for she was not at all sure that this was the sort of
entertainment of which the Duchess of March night would approve.
Turning around, Polly saw that Mrs Dit ton, their chaperon for the day,
was a considerable distance behind and appeared to be involved in some
kind of altercation with both her children and an angry stall holder.
Polly's heart sank.  She had no wish to rejoin them and become
embroiled in the dispute, and Lady Laura was already at the tent
entrance, ready to pull aside the flap and go in.

"Very well," Polly said weakly.

"I shall wait here for you, Laura.  And do not let them cozen you!"

But it was too late.  Lady Laura had already disappeared into the
tent's dusky, sweet-scented interior and with a sigh, Polly sat down on
the grass to wait.

It was very warm in the sun and Polly was almost convinced that she had
nodded off to sleep, although when she opened her eyes again everything
looked much the same.  She could not see the Dit tons, for which she
was profoundly grateful, but as she blinked against the bright
sunlight, she was almost certain that she saw Lady Laura, arm in arm
with Mr Far rant, just passing out of sight behind the roundabouts. She
scrambled to her feet, pulling aside the tent flap and peering into the
gypsy's den.

Dark, inquisitive eyes surveyed her from top to toe.

"Fortune, lady?"  the old woman asked, holding out a hand to encourage
Polly forward.

"I can tell you all about the handsome gentleman waiting to steal your
heart--' " No, thank you," Polly said hastily, backing out of the tent.
So Laura had slipped away!  Polly hurried past the stalls that lay
between her and the fun fair.  Where had they gone?  Polly could not
spot Laura's slender figure anywhere.  Bells for sheep, leather
gaiters, linen gaberdine for labourers, Birmingham jewellery... Polly's
head spun.  She hurried around a corner, convinced she could see Laura
in the distance, and found herself back in front of the fortuneteller's
tent.  Nor was she alone there.

"Good afternoon.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry March- night said politely.

Shock at his sudden appearance and the recollection that she had failed
in her duty to keep an eye on his sister held Polly silent for a
moment.

Henry was smiling very slightly.

"Have you lost your party again, perhaps?"

 "No, of course not," Polly snapped, brushing the grass from her skirt
and feeling foolish at having been caught in such a situation.

"I saw the Dit tons but a moment ago and I have been waiting for Lady
Laura, who--' " Who has tricked you into thinking she was having her
fortune told whilst in fact she is making secret assignations," Lord
Henry finished a little grimly.

"I take it that that is why I find you outside Madame Rose's tent, Lady
Polly?  You were not thinking of parting with your money in return for
the assurance that a tall, fair gentleman would presently sweep you off
your feet?"

"Oh!"  A variety of emotions, mostly uncomfortable, warred for
ascendancy within Polly.  She was not going to give him the
satisfaction of a reply.

She accepted Lord Henry's arm and they started to walk slowly between
the booths.

"It is too bad of Laura to take advantage of your good nature," he
said, after a moment, seeing that Polly's innate good manners made it
impossible for her to criticise his sister.

"In mitigation I can only say that she is very young and very much in
love, and has not yet realised that true friendship should not be
abused."

"If only she had confided in me--' Polly broke off, not wishing to
suggest that she would have helped Lady Laura deceive her family.  Lord
Henry's sudden appearance in search of Laura and his grimness in the
face of his sister's behaviour suggested that she certainly did not
have his support.

"Is it certain?"  she asked carefully.

"Do you know that she has arranged to meet Mr Fan-ant?  I did think
that I had seen them a moment ago."

 "Indeed you did."  Henry sounded rather grim.

"I saw them myself, walking past the gunsmith's stall.  In fairness to
Laura, I do not think that they mean to do more than meet and enjoy
each other's company, but she should know better... Of course, she had
no notion that I should be here today and see through her deception."

This brought Polly's mind back to other matters, equally
disagreeable.

"I

understood you to be at Weller den," she said, a little crossly.

"You are forever coming and going, are you not, sir?"

Henry laughed softly as he noted the martial light in her eyes.

"Ah, the gossips have been busy again!  Indeed, I spent a few days
there--' " In most entertaining company, I understand," Polly said,
despite herself.

"Oh, the best!  Can you doubt it?"

Polly almost stamped her foot, but knew he was only trying to provoke
her.

"Well, I dare say our tastes differ there, my lord."

"I should hope so!"  Henry laughed again as he saw her look of fury.

"Come, you know that I travel widely and have many interests.  Lady
Polly!  I am only teasing you!"

It was in some ways fortunate that they came across Mr Far rant and
Lady Laura at that moment.  The were standing before a small flock of
chickens, apparently engrossed.

"The best you could buy, sir," the poultry man was saying eagerly, 'and
a better price you will not find---' "Henry!"  Lady Laura said, in
horrified tones.  Her gaze travelled to Polly and a deep blush came
into her cheeks.

"Lady Polly, I thought--' " I doubt Lady Polly wishes to hear your
excuses now, Laura," Henry said, fixing his sister with a cold,
quelling gaze.

"You have used her most shamefully.  As for you, Far rant--' Henry's
gaze turned to the unlikely Romeo '--I should have expected better of
you!"

Charles Far rant started to stammer apologies and Laura to cry quietly.
The poultry man took his cap off and scratched his head at this
unexpected turn of events.  They were attracting quite a lot of
interest.  Polly touched Henry's arm.  She had seen the Dit tons, with
their unerring instinct for scandal, approaching down the row of
stalls.

"This will have to wait," she whispered hastily.

"We must all pretend that we met up by chance, I think.  Mrs Dit ton!"
She turned with a beaming smile to greet the lady.

"How glad I am to have found you again, ma'am!  And only see, Mr Far
rant and Lord Henry are here as well!  How the good weather brings
people out of doors!"

Henry was smiling a little at such inanity, but he followed Polly's
lead easily enough.

"Far rant has told me that the Fairs here are renowned for their local
colour, ma'am, and I thought to take a look.  I am returned from
Buckingham shire only yesterday..."

The image of Susanna Bolt came into Polly's mind again, incongruous
amidst all the fresh air and sunlight.  It could only serve to make her
ill temper worse.  Laura was sniffing a little and Polly took her arm,
drawing her away from Miss Dit ton's prying eyes.  Any enjoyment had
gone from the day.

"I'm sorry," Laura whispered as Polly hustled her back towards the
carriages.

"It was not that I did not trust you, but Charles said I was not to
tell anyone!  I have been very foolish..."

 unlikely that Lady Laura would be permitted to remain in Suffolk now
that this not-so-secret romance had been found to be nourishing, and
Laura had not really done anything very bad.  She looked at the girl's
reddened eyes and noticed with a flash of irritation that Miss Dit ton
was almost running in her attempt to catch up with them.  The tears
could not be concealed.

How then to explain them?  Her talent for deception was being stretched
to the limit.

"You should not believe all that the fortuneteller told you, Laura,"
she said loudly.

"I might have known that she would upset you!"

Miss Dit ton's avid face appeared over Laura's shoulder.

"Oh, whatever can she have said?"  She asked eagerly.

"Dear Lady Laura, do tell!"

It was Lord Henry who answered, a hint of malice in his grey eyes.

"She told my sister to beware of false friends.  Miss Dit ton, and to
value true friendship above rubies!"

Chapter Ten QzrsQ It was a sad little party that made its way back to
Wood bridge.  Charles Far rant and the March nights had gone their
separate ways, with Lady Laura still sniffing into her handkerchief.
Miss Dit ton spent the entire journey speculating spitefully about
Laura and Mr Far rant, pressing Polly to give details of the encounter
between them and Lord Henry, certain that it was less good-humoured
than Polly insisted.  Polly's head ached.  She had no wish to be
obliged to lie even more and it only made Laura's treatment of her seem
more shabby.  She had liked the girl and considered her a friend.  It
was lowering to imagine that she had been used to further the
clandestine romance.  As for Lord Henry, she did not wish to think of
him at all, for all her thoughts were melancholy ones.

It was with considerable relief that they reached the gates of Dilling
ham Court, and Polly insisted on leaving the Dit tons' coach and
walking up the lime avenue to the house.  As she approached the
carriage sweep, she was startled to see a travelling coach on the
forecourt surrounded by what seemed vast amounts of luggage.  Polly's
spirits lifted and her step quickened.

This had to be Peter and Hetty Mark ham, back from Kings mar ton.

That must mean that the two of them were reconciled, which was a
much-needed piece of good news.

Polly found the whole family assembled in the rosewood drawing-room.
Miss Mark ham, a pretty girl with huge blue eyes and copious amounts of
curling brown hair, was standing clutching Peter's hand and looking
embarrassed as she responded to the Dowager Countess's slightly frosty
welcome.

"Hetty and I are to be married in six weeks' time," Peter was saying as
Polly slipped into the room.

"We see no point in waiting any longer.  After all, the wedding has
already been delayed once."

The Dowager Countess blanched a little, startled into plain-speaking.

"Six weeks?  There will be a lot of talk, Peter!  Everyone will say
that you have anticipated your marriage vows and need to make a hasty
match--' Hetty flushed bright red and muttered something incoherent.
For a fleeting moment she put her face in her hands, a gesture which
Polly noticed with both concern and curiosity.  Peter was standing his
ground in the face of his mother's bluntness, although he too had
reddened.  There was a very curious atmosphere in the room, Polly
thought.  She took a chair unobtrusively by the fireplace and accepted
a cup of tea from Lucille with a slight smile of thanks.

"Please, Mama!"  Peter was saying carefully.

"I suppose we must resign ourselves to being the subject of ill-bred
remarks, but I do not intend to let my life be governed by it!"

Polly and Lucille exchanged a look.  It seemed to Polly that Peter had
grown in stature since he had gone away.  There was a protective
element in his behaviour towards Hetty that was very obvious and must
surely augur well for their future relationship.  Miss Mark ham, in
contrast, seemed to have lost much of her natural ebullience and
vivacity but perhaps this could be put down to an embarrassment at the
rupture with Peter, now so fortunately overcome.

There was an awkward little silence that threatened to become
prolonged.

Polly hastened forward to kiss Hetty and draw her over to the sofa
where she started to ask about the journey and enquire into Mrs Mark
ham's health.

Gradually Miss Mark ham relaxed a little and by the time the drinks
were replenished, accompanied by some more of Mrs Appleton's delicious
honey cakes, she was chatting almost as normal.  It still seemed to
Polly that there was something brittle in Hetty's manner and her eyes
watched Peter almost constantly as if for reassurance.  Polly, tired by
the events of the day and the difficult scene at the Fair, noted
Hetty's change of manner but felt too weary to think about it properly.
It slipped to the back of her mind during the lively and enjoyable
family dinner that followed, and it was only as she was brushing her
hair before the mirror at bedtime that she remembered Hetty's tension
and wondered at it.  She could think of no explanation, however, and
went to bed thinking that she must speak to Lucille about it.  If
anyone would know what was the matter with Hetty, it would be
Lucille.

Polly would have been astonished to learn that a lone visitor called at
Dilling ham Court that night, long after she was abed.  Medlyn had
taken the visitor's card along to the study where the Earl of Sea
grave sat up late, poring over old estate maps.  He ushered the man
into the Earl's presence and accepted his master's instruction that he
should then go to bed.  He asked no questions and in the morning all
recollection of the visit had slipped his memory.

When their business was finished, the Earl offered his guest a second
glass of brandy and sat back.

"So, how does your suit prosper.  Harry?"  he asked idly.

Henry March night gave his lop-sided grin.

"Very badly, I thank you!  Your sister is now convinced that I am a
hardened rake and lecher!  She has me pursuing Lady Bolt from Richmond
to Buckingham shire!  Never has the price of information been so
high!"

"Lady Bolt ruining your reputation, is she?"  Sea- grave asked with
spurious sympathy.

"I thought she must have some information you wanted!  I could not see
you getting caught like that otherwise!"

Henry grimaced.

"Would that Lady Polly had your discernment, Sea grave!  But I can
hardly blame her for jumping to the obvious conclusions!  After all, I
have deliberately made a name for myself as a rake and gamester.  To
plead innocence now, no matter how genuine, will cut little ice."

"Susanna Bolt is a deeply mercenary and unpleasant woman," Sea grave
said absently, folding his map of Dilling ham away.

"Can she be caught in the same net that will trap Chapman, Harry?"

"I hope so."  Henry drained his glass.

"I plan it to be so!  But there is another I am more anxious to
catch..."

"An unholy trinity," Sea grave agreed.

"I must confess I do not like it.

Harry.  Whilst he is free to come and go as he pleases, there is great
danger.  " Henry nodded.

"I agree, but we cannot move against him until we are sure of Chapman.
Until then, the risk must be run."

"He does not suspect you?"

"No."  Henry permitted himself a grim smile.

"His vanity is such that he suspects no one!  And that will be his
downfall!"

The following morning heralded another glorious, late summer day, with
a sky as blue as cobalt and the sea as smooth and soft as silk.  Polly,
established with her easel in the shelter of a group of trees, watched
as Peter and Hetty, and the rest of their party, strolled away down the
beach in the direction of the small huddle of houses which constituted
Shingle Street.

They had had a delightful picnic lunch and now Miss Dit ton had
declared it time to call upon the poor fisher families who eked out a
living in this isolated spot.  Polly pitied the unsuspecting poor.

The settlement at Shingle Street had been augmented in the recent wars
when a Martello Tower had been built as part of the coastal de fences.
The only other habitation in the vicinity was the romantically named
House of Tides, the home of Lady Belling ham, former actress and black
sheep of the county.

Polly had intended calling on her ladyship, who had been a staunch
friend of Lucille's before her marriage, but Miss Dit ton had drawn
back from the suggestion with distaste.

"Lud, to call on the actress?  My mama would have a fit of the va pours
if she heard I had been consorting with such a person!"

Polly had reluctantly abandoned her plans of the visit, not wishing to
cause disagreement amongst the party and privately reflecting that it
was probably unkind of her to inflict Miss Dit ton's company on so
likeable a character as Lady Belling ham.  All the same, she was
sorry.

It was very quiet and the breeze was pleasantly cooling.  Polly became
engrossed in her sketching, enjoying her solitude, and had no idea how
long she sat there.  Her attention was eventually drawn back to the
present by the small scrape of stone on stone, a little distance away
along the shingle beach.  She put down her charcoal and listened.  The
noise came again.  There appeared to be no one on the wide empty
seashore, nor could Polly see anyone else nearby.  The cries of
children reached her faintly from the cottages where Miss Dit ton was
no doubt exercising her patronage, and she could just see Peter and
Hetty in the distance, wandering hand in hand along the shore,
engrossed in each other.

Polly got to her feet slowly and trod across to the edge of the springy
grass.  The small cliff sloped away steeply down to the shingle and
cast a dark shadow.  Polly squinted in the bright sunlight, then
recoiled in surprise at the sight of a figure emerging from the shade a
mere twenty yards away.  It was Lord Henry March night.  He was dusting
the sand and shale from his hands and shaking more debris off his
jacket.  He had not seen her.

"Oh!"  Polly's foot slipped as she stepped hastily backwards, sending a
small shower of stones down onto the beach.  In an agony of suspense
she heard them bouncing off the rocks below and peered down to see Lord
Henry, his eyes narrowed against the sun, staring straight up at her.

"Lady Polly!"  Lord Henry took the steep cliff path with ease and
arrived beside her barely out of breath.  "How do you do, ma'am!  I had
no idea that you were there!"

"I have been sketching."  Polly gestured towards the easel, its paper
flapping in the breeze.  For some reason she felt defensive, needing to
excuse her presence.  And Lord Henry was displaying all his habitual
careless elegance and assurance, which was annoying since he had been
creeping about on the beach in a most suspicious manner.

"But surely you are not alone?"  Lord Henry looked round.

"Where are the others?"

"Oh, they have gone to dispense charity to the villagers," Polly said,
trying not to laugh.

"Miss Dit ton is calling on the poor."

"Good God, must she?"  Henry looked disgusted.  "But you prefer the
solitary company of your sketch book?  I cannot blame you, ma'am!"

They started walking slowly along the top of the cliff in the direction
of the House of Tides.

"How is Lady Laura today?"  Polly enquired hesitantly.  She did not
wish to pry, but was very afraid that there would have been unhappy
repercussions as a result of the clandestine meeting at the Fair.

Henry sighed.

"She is not at all well, I am afraid.  My mother has forbidden her from
ever speaking to Charles again and she has taken it very badly.  Laura
is young and headstrong..."  He shrugged uncomfortably.

"Mama has always considered her delicate, never realising that Laura's
spirit is at least as strong as her own!  When I suggested at Dilling
ham that you should not encourage Laura in her feelings for Charles it
was not because I disapproved of the connection, but only because I
knew how it could split the family!  Indeed, I have tried to argue her
case, but it was no use..."

He shrugged again and fell silent.

Polly felt a rush of mingled relief and apprehension.  She was glad to
know that Henry was not motivated by the same regard for status and
consequence as his parents, but like him she could see that Laura's
love for Charles Far rant would set her on a collision course.

"Will Laura accept her mother's edict?"  she asked carefully.

"If not, perhaps Mr Far rant might be persuaded... But he seems as
smitten as she... Oh, dear, it is so very difficult!"

Henry smiled at this masterly understatement.

"I believe both of them are in earnest and neither will waver in their
regard!  By far the best course would be for my parents to accept the
less-than-brilliant match, but I doubt they will see matters in the
same light!  I believe Mama will try to send Laura away."  His gaze met
Polly's.

"Laura deeply regrets the way that she treated you yesterday.  Lady
Polly.

She would not for all the world have risked your friendship, but she
was foolish and her head was filled with romance--' Polly made a slight
gesture of dismissal.

"I understand.  I would not wish to lose Laura's friendship either and
I am sorry that she is so unhappy."

They walked on a little in silence.  The breeze was freshening,
whipping Polly's hair loose of its pins and tugging at her skirts.

"No doubt you too will be leaving soon, sir," Polly said, a little
coolly in case Lord Henry thought that the answer mattered to her.

"Indeed, I am surprised to find you are still with us!  You do not
usually find our dull occupations diverting for more than a day or two
at a time!"

Henry slanted a look at her.  He was smiling.  Polly found it most
unsettling.

"Oh, I intend to be settled here for a while!"  he said easily.

"And in truth, there are far more exciting things happening here than,
say, at Weller den's houseparty!  You would be surprised, ma'am!"

Polly felt vaguely irritated.  Lord Henry always seemed to be singing
the praises of Suffolk--then hurrying off to be elsewhere.

"You certainly seemed fascinated by whatever you discovered on the
beach just now, my lord!"  she said, a little snappishly.

"What was it?  A piece of driftwood?  A message in a bottle?"

"I do believe you are essaying satire.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry said
admiringly.

"But you should not mock me, you know!  I was investigating a tale I
had heard, which was that there is a secret passageway from the House
of Tides out under the cliffs.  I think I may have found the entrance!
Would you like to see?"

"A secret passageway?"  Polly was curious despite herself.

"You mean--for smuggled goods?"

"No doubt that was what it was used for some years ago," Lord Henry
agreed, 'although there's precious little to be gained from such a
trade now that the excise duties are so reduced.  I imagine the passage
to have been silted up for some time, but it is interesting, is it not?
I must ask Lady Belling ham's permission to investigate further. Would
you care to see the cave entrance?  " "I think not," Polly said
severely.

"To go in there with you would be the utmost folly!"

 Lord Henry grinned.

"Perhaps you are right, ma'am!  Ah well, I see I must continue my
investigations alone!  And no doubt I should return you to your party
now.

They must be becoming anxious of your whereabouts."

There was no sign of the others as they re trod the springy turf path
back to where Polly had left her paints and paper.  Lord Henry viewed
her drawings with undisguised interest.

"This is very pretty," he commented, pointing to a sketch of the
tumbledown cottages, their washing blowing against the blue sky.

"But this..."  he paused 'this has real depth and passion.  The earth
colours, the texture.  It is a very sensuous picture.  " His gaze dwelt
thoughtfully on her for a moment and Polly hurriedly covered the
painting up.

It was a country picture that she had drawn a few weeks previously, a
study of the fields and woods about Dilling ham, but instead of her
usual pastels she had used oil paints and the effect had been
startling.  The rich reds and browns had given the painting a tactile
quality, as though one could almost step into the picture.  Polly was
not quite comfortable with it.

The breeze was becoming fresher now and Lord Henry was frowning a
little as he scanned the eastern horizon.

"I do believe we are in for a storm.  Do you see those clouds massing
out at sea?  Where are your carriages, ma'am?"

Polly turned.

"I think they must have gone down to the village to collect the others,
sir.

But it is only a step.  Perhaps if I follow them down--' The first drop
of rain landed on her drawing paper, apparently out of the blue sky.
It was followed by another and another.  The wind had suddenly become
strong.

Polly bent to scoop up her scattered paints and paper and stuff them
all into her portfolio.  The easel blew over with a sudden crack,
making her jump.

"We had best seek shelter," Lord Henry said, all hint of easy amusement
gone from his tone.

"No, it is too far to the village.  The House of Tides is nearer.
Hurry, please!"

Polly could understand his urgency.  She had no coat to protect her,
and already the rain was heavier.  The sky over the sea had turned a
leaden grey.

She could not believe how quickly the weather had changed and now the
air was heavy with the threat of thunder.

The first nicker of lightning touched the sky as they reached the edge
of Lady Belling ham's land.  Polly was almost in a panic now.  She
hated thunderstorms and the ones that rolled in from the sea could be
particularly fierce.

"Not far now."  Henry's voice was reassuring.

"We will go in the back way, through the shrubbery, as it's closer."

He held the little gate open for her and they slipped through as the
rain began to pour in earnest.  Polly, clutching her soaking portfolio
and box of crayons under her arm, wondered briefly what on earth Lady
Belling ham would make of the arrival of two such drowned rats.  She
had only met her ladyship a couple of times for, though travelling
copiously.  Lady Belling ham was virtually a recluse when she was in
Suffolk.

Henry helped Polly up on to the terrace with a hand under her elbow.
The steps were slippery in the rain and she almost stumbled.

 Then the French windows were flung open before them and Lady Belling
ham's rich contralto tones, warm with amusement, said, "Well, upon my
word!

Apollo and Niobe!  Or am I mixing my Greeks and Romans?  I was never
very good at mythology, alas!  " Polly, regardless of her dripping
clothes, found herself engulfed in a huge scented embrace.  Lady Bel-
ling ham's many colourful scarves wafted about her like a massive
sheet.

"Dear child!"  her ladyship said fondly.

"How delightful to see you again!

And Henry!  " Now there was a roguish twinkle in her dark eyes, "You
have been away too long, dear boy!"

There was a fearsome clap of thunder overhead.  Polly jumped
violently.

"Come in, come in!"  Lady Belling ham urged, stepping back so that they
could go into the drawing- room.

"We have come to throw ourselves on your mercy, Lady Belling ham,"
Henry said with a smile, pushing the soaking hair back out of his
eyes.

"Lady Polly and I were taking a stroll on the cliffs when the storm
came up, and we thought to seek shelter here.  Lady Polly has become
separated from her party in all the confusion.  I apologise for the
imposition."

"Nonsense, dear boy, and you know it!"  Lady Bel- ling ham clapped her
hands so that her bracelets jingled loudly.  A fat white cat, asleep on
a puffy sofa, raised its head briefly before closing its eyes again
with the most perfect indifference.

"I adore excitement, as you know," she continued, eyes sparkling, 'and
I lead such a retired life usually.  Your arrival is most timely for I
was about to succumb to ennui.  I shall rely on you for all the gossip
in recompense!  " Her eye fell on Polly, dripping quietly on to the
carpet.

"Dear me!  I should not keep you talking or you will catch a chill!
Now, I will take Lady Polly away to change her clothing and Gaston, my
general factotum, will fetch some dry things for you, my dear Henry!
Then he can go and see if he can find trace of your friends, my dear."
She smiled at Polly.

"I am sure we can reunite you all soon!"

She swept Polly out of the room, paused briefly in the hall to summon
Gaston and give him her instructions, then whisked Polly off up the
ornate staircase to a small bedroom decorated in the French fashion.

Polly stared at her reflection in the pier glass with something
approaching horror.  Her hair was straggling around her face, drying in
wisps, and her clothes were sticking to her.  She was not normally
vain, but she could hardly bear to think of Lord Henry seeing her
thus.

Lady Belling ham smiled understandingly.

"Never mind, my love!  I am sure Lord Henry finds your dishevelment
attractive rather than otherwise!  That was always my experience of
gentlemen!  And I can see that he admires you exceedingly!"

Polly blushed bright red.

"Oh, Lady Belling ham, I think you must be mistaken.  Lord Henry and
I--' She broke off, quite unable to continue in the face of Lady
Belling ham's amused cynicism.

"Fustian, my dear!  Stuff and nonsense!"  Lady Bel- ling ham was busy
pulling some enormous gowns out of the closet.  Her voice was
muffled.

"You may pretend to be indifferent to each other, but you cannot cozen
me!

I have known Henry March night for years and he has never truly cared
for any young lady.  But you !  Well!"  She emerged with a huge lilac
coloured dress over her arm.  Polly held it up in front of her.  It was
going to look like a tent.  If Lord Henry found her attractive in that
then the only explanation could be that his wits must have gone
a-begging.

Chapter Eleven QrysQ JVliss Dit ton certainly found the outfit rather
diverting when she and the rest of Polly's lost party were shepherded
into the drawing-room an hour later.

"La, Lady Polly, you are all the crack!  You must tell me where you buy
your modes!"

"Miss Dit ton, I presume!"  Lady Belling ham glided forward smoothly to
greet her unwanted guests.  Her smile was all that was gracious, but
there was a look in those world-weary dark eyes that suggested that she
had met Miss Dit ton's type many times before and knew precisely how to
deal with them.

She welcomed Miss Dit ton and her brother coolly, Hetty with more
warmth and Peter with almost as much enthusiasm as she had shown Henry,
who was now lounging before the fireplace watching with amusement.  He
looked considerably more elegant in his borrowed plumes than Polly did
in hers.

Polly wondered where Lady Belling ham had got such stylish gentlemen's
clothes from.  She could hardly imagine the lugubrious Gaston cutting a
dash in the slim black pantaloons, black jacket and snowy white
shirt.

Gaston had found Polly's companions huddling in one of the cottages in
Shingle Street.  When the rain had started they had hurried to the
carriages, intent on setting off back immediately until Peter had
remembered Polly and had set out to look for her.  This had delayed
them sufficently for the road to become waterlogged, since it was
scarcely more than a sandy track, and they had no choice but to inflict
their presence on one of the glum village families until the rain
stopped.

This was not quite how Miss Dit ton saw their predicament and she was
loud in her condemnation of the noisome cottage and its smelly
occupants.

'and do you know, my dear Lady Polly, they actually had the animals in
there with them!  " She shuddered.

"Apparently it helps them to keep warm!"

Polly caught Henry's eye just as he tried to repress a smile.

"Doubtless your presence incommoded the poor pigs considerably," Lady
Belling ham said, with a suspiciously straight face.

"They are not animals that take kindly to a disruption of their
routine!"

The precise nature of Miss Dit ton's difficulties now became clear. She
could not snub Lady Belling ham, for she had no doubt that her ladyship
was perfectly capable of turning her out into the rain if she chose. 
On the other hand, the Dit tons had never acknowledged the former
actress, even after the Sea graves had taken her up.  Mr Dit ton
cleared his throat noisily, settling himself on the sofa.

"Extraordinary customs these inbred country folk have!  Why, I
remember--' He broke off with a loud yelp.

"Good God, ma'am, that creature has bitten me!"

Lady Belling ham smiled fondly at Horace the cat, who was moving more
swiftly than anyone had ever seen in his attempt to get away from under
Mr Dit ton.

"Dear Horace," Lady Belling ham said sweetly.  "Such a good judge of
character!  You are sitting in his place, I fear, Mr Dit ton.  He will
not be quick to forgive!"

Fortunately a loud thunderclap interrupted this exchange and the ladies
all exclaimed in dismay.  The rain was still tumbling from a leaden
sky.

Lady Bel- ling ham prosaically ordered tea and Henry sensibly suggested
that Tristan Dit ton and Peter join him in a game of billiards to while
away the time.

The rain ceased for a while at about five, but Gas- ton gloomily
reported that the road was still impassable by carriage.  Henry
suggested sending a messenger to Dilling ham, Fen church and
Westwardine to explain that they were marooned for the night, and the
Dit tons reluctantly agreed.

"I suppose staying here for the night is preferable to being set upon
in the forest in the dark," Miss Dit- ton said discontentedly, staring
out at the drenched garden.

"Preferable for you at least," Henry agreed blandly, smiling at her.
Polly stifled a giggle.  She had noticed how Henry's personality had
undergone a subtle shift again as soon as they had company.  He was
still perfectly pleasant but the incisive edge had gone.  Once again,
Polly puzzled over the curious insipidity he could apparently assume at
will.

"Perhaps, Miss Dit ton, if you are very fortunate, Lady Belling ham
will lend you one of her night dresses," she said politely.

"Oh, my maid, Conchita, has just the thing for Miss Dit ton!"  Lady
Belling ham said cheerfully, ignoring Thalia Dit ton's look of horror
at being obliged to wear a maid's night garments.

Lady Belling ham, revelling in her unexpected dinner party, did them
proud with a meal of quail's eggs, honey-roasted duckling and
strawberries with cream.  Even Miss Dit ton could not find fault with
the hospitality.  In the nickering candlelight they looked a motley
crowd.  Peter had become soaked looking for Polly earlier and had
borrowed one of the late Lord Belling ham's outfits.  Unfortunately his
lordship, like his spouse, had been built on ample lines and had also
been several inches shorter than Peter.  Polly felt like a small girl
who had been rummaging in the dressing- up box and there was something
distinctly raffish about Henry March night's appearance, with no neck
cloth and his tumbled faif hair.

Polly thought he looked most attractive but rather as though he had
spent a long night at the gaming tables.

It was, in fact, one of the most enjoyable aspects of the evening that
Henry spent so much time in her company.  The others played a few
desultory hands of whist and Miss Dit ton insisted in entertaining them
at the pianoforte, but Henry gently monopolised Polly's company and
talked to her for most of the evening.  Nor was it idle chitchat--they
discovered and rediscovered their shared interests in music and the
theatre, reading, walking and the countryside.  Polly did not want the
evening to end.

Miss Dit ton yawned loudly.

"Lud, how quiet it is out here in the middle of nowhere!  I declare I
would succumb to a fit of the meg rims if I were forced to spend any
time here!

One could imagine all kinds of spectres and demons howling at the door!
" "They do say that Rendlesham Forest is haunted, Miss Dit ton," Lord
Henry said idly, 'so it is fortunate you were not obliged to make your
way back through the dark.  A broken axle, a lost wheel, and you would
be at the mercy of the spirits!  They say that the black shuck, a huge
black spectral dog, stalks its prey on stormy nights!  " Mr Dit ton
gave his excitable, whinnying laugh.

"Or you would be at the mercy of more human predators!  Is it true,
dear Lady Belling ham, that there is a band of smugglers still at work
in these parts, tapping on the window to signal the delivery of their
goods, hiding brandy kegs in the churches...?"

Polly shivered as the shadows flickered.  Out here, isolated on a
stormy night, it was easy to believe almost anything.  Hetty's eyes
were huge and frightened as she clutched Peter's hand.

"I have never heard of it," Lady Belling ham said comfortably, leaning
forward to put another log on the fire and smiling at Henry as he took
it from her to place in the grate.

"The smugglers are long gone from here, Mr Dit ton.  But by all means
let us frighten ourselves with stories if we wish to be Gothic!"

Tristan Dit ton looked put out by such determined common sense.

"Alternatively," Lady Belling ham beamed, 'we could have crumpets and
hot chocolate before we retire!  Gaston!  " She rang the bell
vigorously.

"Some refreshments, please!"

It was strange, Polly thought, how the room seemed to brighten and the
atmosphere lift with Lady Bel- ling ham's words.  Her ladyship was now
telling an enthralled Hetty about some of her experiences at Drury Lane
Theatre.

 "You should have seen me in The Country Girl, my dear, one of my
greatest triumphs!  Why, it was an innocent version of that old
Restoration romp.

The Country Wife, but to tell the truth I always preferred the bawdier
version!  I was perfect for the part, so natural and un spoilt, for I
was a country girl myself, you see, and only nineteen years of age at
the time!

Ah, what a time it was!  " Arid she shook her head reminiscently.

Polly tried to imagine Lady Belling ham as a country girl of nineteen
and failed sadly.  There was something so world-weary and disillusioned
about Lady Belling ham, though that was not to say that she had lost
her natural kindness.  Polly was conscious, as she had been when
speaking to Lucille, of the sheltered nature of her own upbringing, in
comparison to those who had had to make their own way in the world.
There were precious few similarities between the former actress and the
current Countess of Sea grave, but one was that they had made their own
luck, not been born with all the privileges like Polly had.  Somehow it
made her feel inadequate as well as fortunate.

Polly, returning to the turret bedroom she had used earlier, found the
bed neatly turned down and a small fire burning in the grate.  It
looked warm and welcoming, but she could hear the thunder away out at
sea and shivered.  As soon as she was alone, all her nervousness had
returned.  On such a night it was all too easy to think of the miles of
thick forest that cut them off from the town, the dense, secretive
trees, the storm clouds harrying the moon.

The bright beauty of the day had gone and the stark loneliness of the
place created an eerie atmosphere.

There was a door in the corner of the bedroom, which Polly assumed
must be the turret stair.  Feeling rather foolish, she went across and
checked that it was locked.  There was no key on her side of the door,
but the door did not move at all when she turned the knob.

Satisfied, she climbed into the downy bed, convinced she would not
sleep a wink.

Surprisingly, she fell asleep almost at once, to wake in the middle of
the night with a feeling of suffocating uneasiness.  The fire had gone
out and the wind was pounding the corner of the house, whistling
through the cracks in the windowpane.  Out on the landing, a floorboard
creaked.  Polly stiffened, listening for footsteps.  A sliver of light
appeared at the bottom of the door, flickered and went out.  Another
board creaked.

Polly slid out of bed and opened her door a crack.  She was conscious
of a need to establish normality, certain that she would see nothing
more than a servant tiptoeing about his or her business whilst the rest
of the house slept.

There was no one on the landing.  Then she heard the voices.

"Not tonight, at any rate... Yes, certain... He was looking around
earlier, but... No, no question of it.  They will not risk coming in
and the tide is already on the turn..."

Polly edged to the bannister and peeped over.  The hall was lit with
dim candlelight, deeply shadowed.  Lord Henry March night was standing
in the drawing- room doorway, brushing cobwebs from his clothes.  He
was fully dressed.

Lady Belling ham, in the centre of the hall, was clad in a
dressing-gown of glossy, bright hue and formidable respectability.
Polly rejected her first reaction that this was an illicit lovers'
tryst; it was ridiculous to assume an affaire between them, even given
her ladyship's preference for attractive young men.  There was
something too watchful in Henry's manner and too businesslike in Lady
Belling ham's.  The grandfather clock chimed one suddenly and Polly
jumped.  Henry, who had been turning to close the drawing room door,
paused and his narrowed gaze scanned the landing.

Polly's heart was in her throat.  Would he see her in the shadows of
the pillar?  And what would he do?  What was his business, on such a
stormy night?  Suddenly she did not wish to know.

Lady Belling ham was yawning much in the manner of Horace the cat.

"I'm for bed, then," she announced, patting Henry on the arm.

"I am too old for all this excitement!"

Polly withdrew hastily to her room, closing the door softly as Lady
Belling ham started up the stairs.  She slid into bed, shivering a
little.

Not a tryst then, so.  what?  A business transaction?  But what could
be so secret as to require so clandestine a meeting in the middle of
the night?

And what was it that Henry had said?  Polly stretched out in the
warmth, still puzzling.  She remembered seeing Henry poking about on
the beach earlier in the day and his mention of a secret passage
linking the House of Tides to the sea.  But.  surely he was no
smuggler, and what other purpose could he have for using such a
route?

All Polly's previous suspicions came flooding back.  He had been
conveniently to hand to rescue them from the riot in London.  Too
conveniently, perhaps?

He had carried a pistol when he had apparently been returning home from
a ball.  He was a man who habitually concealed his sharpness of mind
beneath a bland exterior.  And now he was up and about on a stormy
night by the sea.

But Polly's common sense was telling her that allegations of
criminality were absurd, and something deeper told her fiercely that
Henry was a man of integrity.  Besides, there was Lady Belling ham's
part in this.  As smuggler's accomplice?  The thought made Polly want
to laugh.

She was just about to drift back into sleep when there was a tiny click
and the door of Polly's room opened a crack.  Through a gap in the bed
curtains she saw the faint light increase as the door was pushed
wider.

Someone was standing in the aperture, listening.  Polly froze.  She
leant out of bed and groped quickly and silently for something,
anything to defend herself with.  Her hand closed around the edge of
the chamber pot.  Without conscious thought, she ripped the bed
curtains back and swung her arm in a wide arc.  The pot made contact
with something, there was a muffled gasp from the intruder, and Polly
began to scream.

There was light and people everywhere, all of them talking at once.
Polly could see Hetty's frightened face and Miss Dit ton hovering
behind her, avid and curious.  Then Lady Belling ham came bustling
forward in a monstrous bed cap and the vivid dressing- gown, and
candlelight fell on the prone body of Mr Dit ton, lying on the rug just
inside Polly's doorway, clutching his head and groaning.

"Dit ton!"

"Tristan!"

Peter Sea grave's exclamation and Miss Dit ton's screech of horror
coincided.

 His jaw set, Peter plucked the luckless Mr Dit ton off the floor and
started to shake him.

"What the hell are you doing in my sister's bedroom, you loathsome
cur?"

Miss Dit ton began to cry noisily.  Hetty rushed forward anxiously to
ask if Polly was hurt.  Polly sat down rather heavily on the edge of
the bed, supported by Lady Belling ham's arm.

"I am quite well, I thank you, just a little shaken..."

Hetty was now trying to persuade Peter to let Tristan Dit ton go,
whilst Thalia was clinging to her brother's arm and pulling him in an
opposite direction from Peter.  Polly felt they might almost pull him
apart between them.

"Oh, please let him go--' she started to say, only to find that control
of the situation had been grasped firmly by Lord Henry March night.

"A simple misunderstanding, I feel sure, Sea grave.  I am persuaded
that you would not wish to inflict any further injuries to Dit ton's
person!  Why, his elegant night attire is quite ruined, I fancy!"

No one except Polly seemed to find it odd that Lord Henry's major
concern should be for Mr Dit ton's clothing, for they were all quite
used to his preoccupation with sartorial matters.  Dit ton, released
from Peter's cruel grip, drew himself up and exclaimed that the state
of his silk dressing-gown was truly disgraceful, but not so shocking as
the state of his nerves after an unwarranted attack.

Henry's ironic gaze then fell on Polly, still clasped within Lady
Belling ham's protective arm.

"Not really unwarranted, Dit ton," he drawled.

"Sea- grave did what any right-minded brother would do under the
circumstances!  Have you forgotten the agitation occasioned to Lady
Polly at finding you in her room?  An apology at least, dear
fellow..."

Dit ton, recalled to the demands of good behaviour, gulped a little,
his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Dear Lady Polly... of course... such a terrible mistake.  I was
looking for the closet and became quite lost in the dark ... oh, dear,
I am most abjectly sorry..."

"No harm done, eh, Dit ton?"  Henry observed, mercifully putting an end
to this miserable monologue.  "Except perhaps, to your head!"

The tension began to dissolve.  Miss Dit ton gulped noisily.

"Oh, Tristan, how could you be so foolish...?"

"Lady Polly... terrible mistake... abject apologies..."  Mr Dit ton was
still stuttering.  He was still looking a little stunned from Peter's
treatment, his thin, foxy face a sickly pale colour and his grey eyes
darting fearfully.

He put a hand to his head.

"Excuse me... Must retire..."

He wandered off along the landing, silk dressing- gown napping, and
Lady Belling ham started to shoo the others out of the room with a
mixture of clucking and scolding.

"Come along, now!  Back to your beds, all of you!  Conchita!"  She
clapped her hands and the maid appeared apparently from nowhere, "Show
these ladies back to their rooms!  Good night!"

Peter and Hetty were disposed to linger until Polly reassured them with
a pale smile.

"Truly, I am not hurt, only a little shocked.  Oh, thank you, ma'am--'
She accepted a glass of brandy from Lady Belling ham, then looked at it
dubiously.  " Must I indeed drink this?  " For the shock, my dear,"
Lady Belling ham counselled.

"It will help you sleep."

The grandfather clock chimed two.

The drink was very pungent and burned its way down Polly's throat.

"Poor Mr Dit ton!"  She started to laugh.

"I imagine I gave him far more of a fright than he did me!"

"You were remarkably accurate with that chamber pot, my dear," Lady
Belling ham observed.

"One scarce knows whether to be grateful or otherwise that it was
empty!"

It was only later, when Lady Belling ham had left her and the house had
settled down once more into quiet, that Polly curled up and wondered
how Lord Henry had managed to appear in his night attire.  Only minutes
earlier she had seen him in the hall, fully dressed.

She was about to fall asleep for a third time that evening when she
remembered the corner door.  Some instinct prompted her to check that
it was locked, although she had no reason to suppose otherwise.  She
dragged herself out of the bed again into the cold room.  She shivered
as she crossed the floor and turned the knob.  The door swung smoothly
open without a sound and the dark stair gaped below.

Chapter Twelve QsrQ All sleepiness fled from Polly's mind.  The door,
which had been locked when she went to bed, was now standing open.  A
faint draught, scented with sea salt, wafted into the room and the
darkness yawned below.  For a moment she stared, unbelieving, down the
dark stair, then she slammed the door shut as though she almost
expected an intruder to appear before her eyes.  There was a heavy oak
armchair in a corner of the room, and Polly made haste to drag it
across in front of the turret door, barricading herself in as best she
could.  The silence of the House of Tides seemed to spread around her.
There was no step on the stair, no turning of the knob, but it was a
long time before Polly returned to bed and even longer before she
slept.

"You look fagged to death, poor child," Lady Bel- ling ham said next
morning, 'and no wonder!  What a night of al arums and excursions!  "
She had brought Polly's breakfast tray herself and now moved forward to
draw back the curtains, letting in the bright sunlight and swathe of
blue, rain washed sky.  Her dark, thoughtful gaze lingered on the
heavy wooden chair which was still in place squarely against the
door.

"Lady Belling ham," Polly said directly, 'do you know where the key is
for that door?  " For a moment she thought that her ladyship looked
distinctly furtive.

"The key?  Is it not in the door, my love?  I must confess I have hot
seen it this age, for we seldom use this room."

"The door was locked when I went to bed," Polly said, feeling a little
foolish at airing her suspicions in the bright light of day, 'but it
was open in the middle of the night!  I cannot understand it!  " Lady
Belling ham's eyes seemed to hold a secret amusement.

"Oh, no, my dear, I am sure you must be mistaken!  The door is always
kept locked!"  And to illustrate her point, she turned the knob and
gave the door a hearty push.  It did not move.

"There now," Lady Belling ham said comfortably.

"I am persuaded that you must have dreamed it, my dear, and no wonder
with all the shocks there were during the night!  Mr Dit ton and his
sister seem in an unaccountable hurry to leave this morning!  But at
least Miss Dit ton will be unable to gossip about last night's
rodomontade, since her own brother was the villain of the piece!  Now,
here is your dress, freshly laundered by Conchita, and you must join us
downstairs only when you are ready!"

After she had gone, Polly slid from the bed and checked the door
herself.

It did not move an inch.  Polly ate her breakfast slowly, puzzling over
the mystery, but she could come up with no explanation and eventually
gave up, choosing instead to sit by the open window and look out at the
fresh, blue day.  The rain had left deep, water-filled ruts in the
track, and Polly was surprised to see a carriage picking its way
carefully through the quagmire.

It paused at the gate, where the Dit tons' coach rattled past it with
rather more speed than was wise, then turned on to the forecourt of the
House of Tides.

Polly hurried down the stairs.  Lord Henry March- night was just coming
into the hall, his hair tousled by the fresh breeze.  Polly eyed him
suspiciously.

He looked remarkably wide awake for someone who had spent the best part
of the night prowling around and, she suspected, up to no good.

"Good morning.  Lady Polly!  I hope you are recovered from the trials
and tribulations of last night!  Sir Godfrey Or bison has just
arrived--no doubt to rescue the susceptible Sea graves from the
clutches of the wicked Lady Belling ham!"

Sir Godfrey's stentorian tones could already be heard haranguing an
impassive Gaston at the door.

"Come to find out what the deuce is going on!  Only arrived at Dilling
ham last night to find Cecil ia Sea- grave in receipt of a dashed odd
message about the whereabouts of her family!  Sea grave has been called
away so I undertook to find out how everyone came to be marooned out
here!  Dashed lonely spot, what!  Dashed odd place to live!"

"Sir Godfrey!"  Polly called, running across the hall and hugging her
godfather.

"How are you, sir?"

"Sharp-set, miss, sharp-set!"  Sir Godfrey said, smiling despite
himself.

"Sent out here on some outlandish wild goose chase before I even had my
breakfast!  What's going on, eh?"

"We were caught in a storm yesterday and had to seek shelter here,"
Polly said, catching his arm and turning him towards the
drawing-room.

"Come, I must introduce you to Lady Belling ham, who was kind enough to
rescue us!"

"No need, my dear.  Sir Godfrey and I are old acquaintances!"

The drawing-room door had been thrown open with a nourish worthy of a
great melodrama.  Lady Bel- ling ham, resplendent in a sapphire gown
and diaphanous scarves, wafted forward.

"Godfrey!"  she said in throbbing accents.

"To think that we should meet again after all this time!  You went
away, you wicked man!"

"Bessie!"  Sir Godfrey had dropped Polly's arm as though thunderstruck
and had hastened forward with the speed of a young man.

"My dear Bessie!  You married Another!"

"Only because you had deserted me, you cruel deceiver!"  Lady Belling
ham said, tapping him on the arm with her peacock fan.

"So much time lost!"  Sir Godfrey mourned, enthusiastically kissing her
on both cheeks.

"So much to rediscover!"

Polly's jaw had dropped as she watched this tableau unfold.

"I think we are witnessing a great romance," a voice said in her ear,
'though Lady Belling ham seems uncertain whether this is to be a
tragedy or a comic opera!  " Polly turned to see Lord Henry grinning as
he watched Lady Belling ham steer Sir Godfrey towards the drawing-room,
looking up at him flirtatiously as she went.  The elderly baronet
seemed totally enslaved.

Moreover he was willing, eager, to be swept away.

 "Now that we have found each other again, God- frey," Lady Belling
ham said in throbbing tones, "I insist that you sample my hospitality
for a little!

The children--' she dismissed Polly and Henry with a wave of the fan
'--can amuse themselves for a while!  There is so much for us to talk
on!  " And she shut the door firmly behind them.

"Well!"  Henry said, still smiling.

"It seems Lady Belling ham has found yet another way in which to
scandalise the neighbour hood and Sir Godfrey will be her willing
dupe!"

"Their romance... It seems most unlikely..."  Polly ventured.

"True..."  there was a twinkle in Lord Henry's eyes 'but one must not
consider romance to be the prerogative of the young!  I have no doubt
that those two had a most passionate affair--' "Lord Henry!"

"Still so proper.  Lady Polly?"

"Unlike you, my lord!"

Lord Henry's grin was broad now.

"Perhaps you should hurry back to your chaste maiden bower, Lady
Polly!

Unfortunately, you are unlikely to have Sir Godfrey's escort, and your
brother and Miss Mark- ham are exchanging sweet nothings in the
garden.

So..."

Polly's lips tightened at his teasing.

"Must you always make a mock of things, my lord?"

"On the contrary!"  Henry's gaze was bright on her.  "I consider love
to be a very serious matter!"

"So I have heard!  And seen!  There are those who consider it to be
your only preoccupation, my lord!"

"No, that's too unkind!"  Henry's smile faded and his glance was a
challenge now.

"But you.  Lady Polly--your attitude is a little different, is it not?
You always seem to behave as though there was something shameful about
love, or at the least something shameful about honest emotion.  I
suppose it is the result of so sheltered and restrictive an
upbringing!"

Polly stared at him speechlessly.  It seemed at least five seconds
before she managed to exclaim, "Well upon my word, my lord!  Your
presumption is outrageous!"

Henry's look was a provocation in itself.

"Is that so?  Then tell me your own view of the matter!"

"It is true that I have had a protected upbringing, being the youngest
and the only daughter--' Polly was so indignant that she needed no
second invitation '--but I do not believe that I have suffered as a
result either materially or emotionally!  I consider myself to be a
woman of sense!  I do not know what type of woman you admire, Lord
Henry, but if it is one full of die-away airs and affected sensibility
then I must agree I do not conform to that style!"

"Yet on the surface you appear so prim and conventional," Lord Henry
countered with every evidence of regret.

"One has the impression that any suggestion of strong emotion would
have you recoiling with the va pours!"

"Indeed!"  Polly was now more cross than indignant.  "I do not know how
you have the effrontery to accuse me of a want of feeling!  When we met
in London you behaved like the greatest rake imaginable, and I did not
hear you complaining that I was lacking in my response to you the nV
She broke off and clapped her hand to her mouth, but it was too late.
The words could not be unsaid.

The expression on Henry's face would have silenced her anyway.  There
was amusement there and a dawning warmth, melting into a tenderness
that made her catch her breath.

"You tricked me," she said, and it came out as a whisper.

"I should never have said that..."

"Yes," Henry also spoke softly, "I'll admit I gave in to a perverse
impulse to provoke you, for you sometimes seem so prim and yet I know
you to be different..."

The hot colour flooded Polly's face.  She took an instinctive step
towards him, knowing that in a moment she would be in his arms.

There was a blast of fresh, salty air, then the main door banged in the
breeze and Gaston came forward, clucking with disapproval.

"Morning, Polly!  Morning, March night!"  Peter, smiling with genial
cheer, ushered Hetty into the hall, where Gaston fussed about taking
her scarf and coat.  Peter was chatting easily to the butler and seemed
completely oblivious to the scene before him.  Hetty, her face flushed
pink from the cold air, looked from Polly to Henry and raised her brows
very slightly.

Polly tore her gaze away from Henry's with an effort of will.

"I was just waiting for Sir Godfrey," she said, slightly at random and
to no one in particular.

"He has come to escort us back to Dilling ham, but it seems he is
already acquainted with Lady Belling- ham..."  She gestured vaguely
towards the drawing- room door.

Henry was laughing openly at her obvious confusion and she was both
charmed and annoyed by his teasing.  He seemed suddenly so sure of his
power to disturb her and with masculine arrogance was enjoying it.
Despite Peter and Hetty's arrival, Polly still felt deliriously
flustered and excited.  She knew that Henry would have kissed her if
the others had not come in and she felt out-of-proportion disappointed
to have been denied the experience.

"Are you quite well.  Lady Polly?  You are looking rather flushed.
Perhaps your experiences last night have overset you?"  Henry had taken
her hand, a wicked smile on his face, eyes dancing.

"I hope you are quite well, for it is the De ben yacht race tomorrow
morning and I quite count on your support to help me wrest the cup from
Marcus Fitzgerald!"

"Oh, a race!"  Hetty clapped her hands, eyes shining.  "We shall all be
there to cheer you on.  Lord Henry!"

"There is a luncheon afterwards at the Queen's Head," Henry continued,
'and, of course, in the evening there is your mother's impromptu ball.
A day of uninterrupted pleasure, which is what I like best!  " Polly
gave him a repressive look which he met with one of limpid innocence.

"Shall we see you at the ball then, my lord?"  she asked demurely,
trying to withdraw her hand from his.

Henry did not release her.  Instead he raised her hand to his lips and
pressed a lingering kiss on it.  "Certainly you shall.  I hope you will
save a dance for me, Lady Polly!"

"I should be delighted, sir."  Polly cast him a look under her lashes.
He was still smiling in that slightly challenging way, and for a moment
her heart skipped a beat through sheer anticipation.

"Until tomorrow then, my lady," Henry murmured, letting her go at
last.

"I

should be on my way to Fen- church, I suppose.  Your servant, ma'am.
Miss Mark- ham .  Peter.  " "Oh."  Hetty sighed soulfully, as they
watched his tall figure stroll away towards the stables.

"Oh, Polly, he really is so very charming..."

The drawing-room door opened and Lady Belling- ham came out, deep in
conversation with Sir Godfrey.

'put up for the night at Famforth," Sir Godfrey was saying, 'at the
Rose and Crown.  Not a bad hostelry, but a little overcrowded..."

Polly was still gazing after Lord Henry's retreating figure, but spun
around at a faint noise from Hetty.  The other girl had gone chalk
white, her hands to her breast as though pierced by an arrow.

"Gaston!  A chair for Miss Mark ham!"  Lady Bel- ling ham, hearing
Polly's exclamation of concern, had hurried forward to take control of
the situation.

"Con- chita!  My hart shorn!  There now, my dear..."  With infinite
gentleness she helped Peter ease Hetty into the chair.

"Have no fear, you will feel better directly..."

Hetty was drooping like a cut flower.  She was still alarmingly pale,
but her eyelids fluttered.  Peter, kneeling beside her, was the picture
of concern.

"The heat..."  Lady Belling ham was saying excusingly, although it was
still early and a very fresh day, 'and the wedding preparations no
doubt.  You must take care not to overtax yourself, my dear!  " "Yes,
ma'am," Hetty said submissively, and Polly saw a tear slide from the
corner of her eye and make a trail down her pale cheek.  For a moment
Polly had the horrible thought that Hetty might not wish to marry Peter
and that that was what was making her so unhappy.  Yet Hetty was gazing
at Peter with the concentrated regard that was surely a sign of love
rather than dislike, and was clutching his hand as though her life
depended on it.  And there had been nothing in their behaviour to
suggest anything other than they were both pleased to be marrying so
soon.  Polly frowned.  She had discussed Hetty's strange behaviour with
Lucille, but neither of them could understand why Miss Mark ham,
normally so ebullient, had become so tense and woebegone.

She was not ill.  She should have been happier than ever before in her
life.

It made no sense.

Hetty was struggling to get to her feet, a little colour coming back
into her face.

"I am so sorry... I cannot imagine what is the matter."

She saw Lady Belling ham looking at her with thoughtful concern and
looked as though she was about to burst into tears.  She scrubbed
viciously at her eyes.

"We had better start for home.  Lady B.," Peter said hastily, a
protective arm around his betrothed.

"It will be best for Hetty to rest.  Shall we see you at the ball
tomorrow?"

The atmosphere lightened as Sir Godfrey added his pressing
persuasions.

"Dear lady, of course you must be there!  You will be the belle of the
ball, putting all others in the shade!"

Lady Belling ham acceded graciously to his invitation and they went out
to the carriage in a flurry of repeated good wishes and invitations.
Peter and Hetty sat very close together on the way home, Hetty's head
against his shoulder, and Sir Godfrey sat in his corner of the carriage
with a ridiculously famous look on his face.  It was clear that he was
dwelling on the delights of renewing his acquaintance with Lady Belling
ham.

 Polly, despite the promise of encountering Lord Henry again the
following day, began to feel decidedly left out.  All the world, it
seemed, was in love, but she was the only one who had no notion where
it was leading.

Chapter Thirteen You are in magnificent looks tonight, Lady Polly.

" It was not Lord Henry March night but Tristan Dit ton who bent close
to Polly's ear, his sharp gaze appraising her with familiarity, his
foxy face wearing an unpleasant smile.

Polly stepped back sharply.  For a man who had retreated ignominiously
only the two nights before, Mr Dit ton seemed in very high spirits.
Indeed, he was positively effusive in his greetings, as though no
matter of embarrassment had ever passed between them.

"Save me a dance for later, fair one," he purred, before moving on into
the ballroom, leaving Polly to puzzle over his strange and unwelcome
behaviour.

The ballroom was filling rapidly as the guests gathered for the Dowager
Countess's impromptu ball.  Sir Godfrey, looking as pleased as a dog
wagging its tail, was escorting Lady Belling ham.  Polly suspected Lady
Belling ham of deliberately playing to the gallery, for she was drawing
a great deal of attention in a dress of rich ruby velvet and some
staggering diamonds.  The Far rants and Fitzgeralds were also out in
force, but Polly's eye was drawn constantly to the door, awaiting the
arrival of Lord Henry March night.

She knew, without the benefit of Mr Dit ton's compliments, that she was
looking her best.  She had brushed her dark hair until the chestnut
lights in it had gleamed with rich colour and the curls tumbled
becomingly about her face.  Knowing that pastel colours, the favourite
apparel of the debutante, could make her look sallow, Polly had chosen
a dress of eau-de-nil.  The style was appropriately modest, but the cut
flattered her neat figure and the material whispered softly as she
walked.

The orchestra struck up for the first dance and Peter swept Hetty on to
the floor, opening the dancing since Nicholas had chosen to sit out
with Lucille.

Hetty appeared to have recovered her spirits and was almost as
vivacious as Polly remembered.  Sir Godfrey and Lady Belling ham
followed them onto the floor with barely concealed eagerness.  There
was less formality than at the London routs and balls, but the company
was elegant nevertheless and, more importantly, was enjoying itself
with gusto.  Seeing Mr Dit ton approaching her purposefully, Polly
caught the eye of Charles Far rant, who had also been watching the door
covertly for the arrival of the March nights.  Charles could take a
hint, and stepped forward to claim Polly's hand before Tristan Dit ton
could reach her.

"Mr Sea grave and Miss Mark ham make a very handsome couple," Polly
heard Mrs Fitzgerald remark to her partner, further down the set.

"I am so glad that match is to be made soon..."

As Charles Far rant swung Polly round, she caught sight of Tristan Dit
ton once more.  He seemed to be ubiquitous.  But this time Mr Dit ton's
attention was not on Polly, for he too was watching Hetty Mark ham
with a peculiar, brooding intensity.  A sudden shiver ran down Polly's
spine.  There was such a malevolent look on Dit ton's face that it
disturbed her.

A moment later, she forgot all about it.  Lord Henry March night was
ushering his mother and sister into the ballroom, apologising
graciously to the Dowager Countess for their late arrival.  The light
from the chandeliers gleamed on his carefully dishevelled fair hair and
she caught her breath at the stark elegance of his evening attire. Then
Henry turned and their eyes met across the room.  Polly felt her pulse
flutter as he held her gaze.

The dance concluded and Charles, who had also seen the March nights
arrive, escorted Polly to Lucille's side, and hovered, looking
hopefully across the room at Lady Laura.  Polly tried not to laugh.
Charles had the same eager look on his face as Sir Godfrey, as he
contemplated the object of his affections.  She hoped that the Duchess
would allow her vigilance to slip and give Charles and Laura a little
time together.

"Come and sit by me, Charles," Lucille said, taking pity on him and
clearly thinking along the same lines.  "I shall call Lady Laura over
in a little while, when the Duchess's attention is distracted!"

Polly danced the next with John Fitzgerald and Nicholas Sea grave
persuaded a blushing Lady Laura to join him on the dance floor.  The
Duchess beamed her approval.  Sir Godfrey and Lady Belling ham were
scandal ising the guests by dancing every dance together, more
amorously entwined than any younger couple.  Several people looked
horrified at this display, but Polly rather suspected that Lady Belling
ham was deliberately putting on a show.  Miss Dit ton and Mr Bunion
looked decidedly more gloomy as they circled the floor together.

"Do you return to London for the Little Season?"  Polly asked Laura
neutrally, when the dance ended and they found themselves together in
the group around Lucille.  She knew that the younger girl was feeling
some constraint in her presence, no doubt arising from the fiasco at
the Fair, and she was anxious to break the ice.

Laura shook her fair head.

"No, indeed, for Mama is making arrangements to send me away!"  She bit
her lip.

"Dear Lady Polly, I am so sorry for the way I have behaved towards you
at Cold Hollow--' Polly put her hand on Laura's arm.  It was hardly the
place for heartfelt apologies, but Laura was certainly sincere.  She
was looking positively miserable.

"Say no more of it," she said decisively, with a warm smile to show
that she bore no grudge.  She raised her voice a little to attract
Charles Far rant's attention.

"So you are to leave us.  Lady Laura?  I am so sorry!  Where do you
go?"

"Mama has decided that it would be good for me to visit my sister.
Lizzie Ellerbeck, in Northumberland," Laura said, glancing through her
lashes at Charles Far rant.

"I wish that it were not so, but Mama is adamant that Lizzie requires
company.  She is increasing, you know, and no doubt Northumberland is a
strange and lonely place to be all alone in Ellerbeck's medieval
castle!"

"How Gothic!"  Lucille commented, with a smile.  "You must make the
most of your time amongst us then.  Lady Laura, and dance every dance!
Mr Far rant..."

 Charles Far rant cleared his throat.

"Er, yes, indeed... Lady Laura... if you would grant me the
honour..."

"An awkward suitor," Lucille said with a smile as she watched them go,
'but an honest one for all that!  I do so hope that the Duchess will
relent!

Laura could do much worse.  " "Playing Cupid, Lady Sea grave?"

Extraordinarily, Polly had missed Lord Henry's approach, so absorbed
had she been in the romance of Lady Laura and Charles Far rant. Lucille
had the grace to blush.

"Oh, Lord Henry!  Perhaps we should not encourage them, but it seems
such a pity for their hopes to be dashed..."

Henry grinned.

"Romance is most decidedly in the air tonight, is it not?"

He turned to Polly as though he had more pressing matters on his mind
than his sister's future.  The gravity of his salutation was belied by
the wicked twinkle in his eyes and she felt the same breathless sense
of anticipation that had come over her at the House of Tides.

"Dance with me," Henry said softly, persuasively, taking Polly's gloved
hand and pulling her to her feet.

Lucille caught her husband's eye and smiled.  "Some of the company seem
to have no need of Cupid's help," she observed lightly.

Polly was feeling the same melting excitement that had possessed her
when she saw Henry enter the ballroom, but this time his proximity
intensified the feeling.  He drew her into his arms as the waltz struck
up.  She could not tear her gaze away from his, from that grave but
concentrated expression in his eyes as he considered her face upturned
to his.  They did not speak throughout the dance, yet Polly was sharply
aware of him all the time.  The touch of his hand on hers, the brush of
his body against hers gave her an acute physical consciousness of him.
Polly was caught in so potent a spell she had no wish to break it.

When the dance ended.  Henry did not escort her back to Lucille's side
but to a love-seat in an alcove.

"Are you enjoying your day of uninterrupted pleasure, sir?"  Polly
asked lightly, smiling at him as she sat down.

"I have not yet had the opportunity to congratulate you on your second
place in the race today!  I hope you were not too disappointed to
secede the cup to Mr Fitzgerald!"

Henry laughed.

"I have to concede to the better sailor!  It's true I was
disappointed--one is always aiming for the prize."

There was something meaningful in his gaze that made the colour come
into Polly's cheeks.  She hoped he thought her a prize worth winning.

"I was also disappointed that you were not able to join us for
luncheon,"

Henry said, after a moment.

"I understand that the Dowager Countess does not approve of the Queen's
Head?"

Polly laughed.

"No, indeed!  We tried to persuade her that it is a respectable
hostelry but I think she feels it is little better than an alehouse!
But we did enjoy watching the race.  It was a very beautiful day."

"Everybody seems most glad that the amusement is continuing here
tonight,"

Henry said, looking about with a smile, 'but then the Dowager
Countess's entertainments are renowned!  " For a moment Polly thought
of Mr Dit ton, the only person present who did not appear to be
enjoying the evening.  She almost told Henry about Dit ton's curious
malevolence when he was watching Hetty and his peculiar familiarity
with her, but then she dismissed the thought.  Mr Dit ton's foibles
were nothing to do with her after all.

"I hope," Lord Henry said, turning back to her with a lazy smile, 'that
you have recovered from the events of the night at the House of Tides.
It must have been a most disturbing experience for you.  " "Finding Mr
Dit ton creeping into my bedroom in the dark was indeed unpleasant,"
Polly agreed tartly.

"There were other events that night, however, that I found equally
disturbing!"

Henry's lips twitched.

"Indeed!  Whatever could those have been?"

"A door that was locked which mysteriously became open before locking
itself again," Polly said coolly, 'and a meeting I witnessed between
yourself and Lady Belling ham which led me to believe that both of you
were engaged in the business of smuggling!  " There was a silence
whilst the dancers spun before them and the strains of the music swept
on.

"Three curious events in one evening," Henry said thoughtfully.

"Yes, and those were only the three I witnessed!  Who is to say that
there were not more!"

Polly saw the flash of amused appreciation in Henry's eyes.

"You have suspected me for a long time, I think," he said easily.

"A

smuggler, a malcontent, a rabble- rouser, the rich patron of a
dangerous criminal, perhaps.  What extraordinary deeds you have
credited me with.

Lady Polly!  I wonder that you dare be alone with me!  " "We are not
alone," Polly pointed out, still cool.

"We were when I came up the turret stair the night before last and
unlocked the door into your bedroom!"

Polly bit her lip to prevent the gasp that was almost audible.  She had
sought to provoke him without believing that she would hear answers
such as this.  Her dark eyes kindled.

"I might have known you had the key!

Creeping around in the middle of the night, and into a lady's
bedroom--' "Yes, you have no idea how much I have wanted to be there,"
Henry said smoothly.

"You were fast asleep and looking quite delightful with your hair
tumbled all over the pillow!  I was tempted--' " Lord Henry!  " "Must
you be forever interrupting my most ardent dreams.  Lady Polly?  Alas,
that the reality is far colder than the fantasy!  Or at least--' his
tone dropped '--I used to think so..."

Polly fought to get a grip on matters before they slipped beyond her
control.

"Lord Henry, I believe that you owe me an explanation!  That is the
point at issue, not your fevered imaginings!"

"Well..."  Henry looked around at the crowded ballroom 'it is too busy
here for complicated explanations.  If you will walk a little with me,
I undertake to tell you all you wish to know.  Or almost all," he added
with a whimsical smile.

Polly eyed him with suspicion.

"Truly?"

"Truly!"

"But can you tell me?  Should you?"  Polly suddenly felt uncertain.

"Perhaps I do not wish to know after all--' " Too late," Henry said
laconically, pulling her to her feet.

"You already know too much.  Lady Polly!  A little knowledge is more
dangerous than the whole truth!"

At one end the wide ballroom doors led through to the winter garden,
with its palm trees and warm, ferny twilight.  They strolled slowly
along the tiled path.

"Where to start?"  Henry said thoughtfully.

"I suppose the beginning is in London, with the arrest of Chapman at
the gunsmith's and his subsequent escape.  As you know, he is a
dangerous malcontent and one of the most wanted men in the country.  He
has undoubted gifts of oratory and can stir up the populace to riot and
revolt.  He uses other men's discontent for his own ends, for he has no
real interest in improving the lot of the common man.  He has planned
and executed more robberies with violence than I could tell of, and I
have been hunting him down ever since he escaped."

Polly stopped and drew in a sharp breath.

"Then you mean that you... You must work for the authorities--for the
government?"

There was an atmosphere of intrigue conjured up by the intimate
darkness and the watchful stillness of the warm night.  They started to
walk again, very slowly, neither of them paying much attention to their
surroundings.

"Yes, I have worked for the government for the last five years, under
many names and in many guises."  Henry sounded very matter of fact, as
though such an admission was commonplace.

"You mean that you are a spy?"  Polly kept her voice level, finding it
difficult to match his practical tone.  She was astonished.  Her
images and perceptions of him had been plunged into a complete whirl.

"I suppose you could call me that."  There was an element of amusement
now in Henry's voice, although he did not smile.

"I do not care for the word.

It is too.  melodramatic.  I have done all kinds of work--whatever is
required.  In the recent wars I spent some time abroad, in both France
and elsewhere.  I also collected.  " he hesitated 'information from
sources along the south coast."

Polly knew what he meant.  The smugglers who brought in contraband
goods might also have very useful intelligence from the continent, but
the business was dirty and dangerous.  She remembered the times when
Henry had vanished completely from Society, how the gossips and
tattle-merchants always had him conducting some scandalous love affair,
or wasting his patrimony on gambling.

He had covered his tracks well.  And yet the strength and integrity she
had seen in him, the contradiction with his superficial lifestyle had
always puzzled her.  Now it took on new meaning.

"I thought..."  she said hesitantly, 'we all thought that you were
simply.

amusing yourself.  " "Hardly surprising, since that was precisely the
impression I wished to give."  Henry shrugged.

"What better way to convince people that I was interested in little
beyond women, gambling and the set of my neck cloth?

Very few people know the truth of it, and only those I can trust
completely.

" Polly registered the implied compliment with a little glow of
pleasure.

"Then, all through the Season you were intent on finding Chapman?"

"Yes, indeed, at Hamp stead Wells and during the riot and even at the
the Royal Humane Society!  A fine dance he has led me!

And all the time, you were basely suspecting me of being the criminal!
" Polly blushed.

"The riot... I see now why you were carrying the pistols!

But you put your search aside to rescue us, which surely you should not
have done--' There was a harsh note in Henry's voice.

"Do you think I could possibly have left you there unaided?  Why do you
think I intervened?"

Polly did not answer.  She could feel the tension between them now and
turned aside from the question.  It felt too soon to consider it.

"But Chapman is not taken yet and you are here in Wood bridge..."  Her
eyes widened at the implication.  "No, it cannot be that he is he reV
She cast a swift look through the glass door to where the couples still
swirled around the dance floor, as if expecting the felon to declare
himself.

Henry took her arm in a comforting grasp.

"No, he is not here, not tonight.  But your deduction is as faultless
as ever.  Lady Polly!  Chapman is close by and others I seek are closer
still.

You will do well to be vigilant until the matter is finally resolved! "
"I suppose your midnight foray at the House of Tides is all a piece
with this," Polly said a little dazedly.  She sat down on the cushioned
bench by the ornamental pool and watched the candlelight reflected in
the cool water.

"The turret door in my bedroom at the House of Tides led down to the
cellars and no doubt to the sea..."

"Yes."  Henry shifted slightly on the bench beside her.

"There are indeed compensations to my work, ma'am!"

 "Outrageous!  It mattered not one whit that I was asleep in there, I
suppose!"

"It certainly made the business more enjoyable!"

Polly refused to let her attention be diverted by this.

"Why have you told me all this?"  she asked.

Henry's amusement faded.  He looked at her.  There was such a clear,
innocent look in her eyes.  He knew he should lie to her, but he could
not.

This was important.

"For lots of reasons," he said, as lightly as he could.  "Maybe I did
not wish you to have such a low opinion of me any more!  You suspected
much already, but I wanted you to know the truth.  It mattered to
me."

Polly could tell that he was utterly sincere.  There was none of the
teasing mockery that had been present a moment before.  She could sense
the tension latent in him as he sat, not touching her, but very close.
His face was still in shadow.

Polly got up and moved across to the window, looking out across the
silent gardens to the lake shimmering in the silver moonlight.  His
honesty had prompted her to say something herself, something that she
had always wanted to tell him but had always held back.

"When you said to me--that night at Lady Phillips's rid otto--that I
had played my part in making you what you had become, then I thought--'
She broke off.

"I had not really thought of it that way before, but I suppose my
rejection of your suit five years ago must have had its effect on your
actions.  I am sorry, so very sorry, that I ever refused you.  Matters
could have been so very different--' Her voice broke on a sob.

"It was very wrong of me to attribute any blame to you," Henry said
swiftly.  He had moved until she could sense he was very close behind
her.

"I must take the responsibility for my own behaviour.  I did not choose
this path simply because you refused my proposal of marriage five years
ago.

There were many factors that influenced that decision, of which only
one was seeing the reversal of my hopes of a life with you."

Polly studied his reflection in the glass behind her.  He was so close
that she could feel the warmth emanating from his body, a contrast to
the cold draught from the window and the emotion which was making her
shiver a little.

"When you asked me to run away with you I was too immature to cope with
the situation," she said slowly.

"I did not really understand what love meant.  Oh--' she made a slight
gesture '--I thought I loved you and it was all very girlish and
romantic, but the depth of feeling that would have given me the
strength to go with you was lacking.  I have thought about it so
often... About what might have been had I had the courage to accept...
I wish... I wish so much--' Henry put his hand on her arm.

"Lady Polly.  Do not.  Sometimes it is not good to be so honest.
Sometimes it can only be painful..."

Polly swung round to face him.  Her eyes were bright with emotion and
the chestnut hair curled about her flushed face.  Henry found himself
wanting to kiss her very much, not with the calculated seduction of
that night at Lady Phillips's ball, but with such genuine passion that
it shocked him.

"I know now," he said, a rough edge to his voice, 'that I
miscalculated when I thought you incapable of deep feeling.  I was
wrong.  " Polly's mouth was just below his own.  It was easy to put a
hand to her cheek, then tilt up her chin so that their lips met,
tentatively at first, then with a sudden flood of desire that
threatened to carry then away.  All the suppressed emotion and tension
of their encounter was suddenly in the kiss, as Polly's lips parted in
surprise and swift acquiescence and her arms slid around his neck to
draw him closer.  Henry knew a second's hesitation before he allowed
himself to let caution go.  Polly knew no such moment of doubt.  She
had been aware of the feeling building between them, the thoughts and
emotions unspoken, the dizzy sense of awareness and anticipation.  When
he touched her, the love and expectancy had fused into one overwhelming
need.

She pressed closer, pliant against him, and Henry moved to draw her
closer.

When he would have drawn back, Polly pulled him closer still, tangling
her hands in his hair so that she could bring his mouth down to hers
again.

Henry held her away from him, pressing a kiss against her hair,
breathing hard.

"Seldom have I made such a mistake," he said, the rueful amusement
audible in his slightly shaken tone.  "Polly..."

Pressed close in his arms, feeling the thud of his heart against hers,
knowing instinctively just how difficult it was for him to let her go,
Polly had no incentive to help him.  She wanted to show him just how
far he had misjudged her.  All the years of restraint could be
unlearned very easily.

She slid her hands under his jacket, relishing the hard strength of his
body under her fingers, and when she heard Henry catch his breath on a
groan, she raised her lips to his again.

Henry spun her round so that she was trapped against the wall.  Polly
could feel the cold through the thin silk of her gown but was barely
aware of it.

All her senses were concentrated on the heat of the sensuality between
them.

She wanted it to sweep her away.  The explicit demand of the kiss eased
into gentleness, then Henry's lips left hers to trace the delicate
lines of her throat, to tease and caress the sensitive skin and rain
kisses on her upturned face.

"Polly..."  he spoke between kisses 'this has to stop.  We cannot. This
is neither the time nor the place.  Until this business is over I am
not free.  " Polly opened her eyes with reluctance.  She felt
intoxicated with kissing, aching with a need that could not be
appeased.  She understood that it had taken a tremendous effort of will
on Henry's part to let her go, that he felt as shaken as she did.  Nor
could she misunderstand his last words.  He intended to woo her
properly when he could, to make a declaration.  Her eyes lit up like
dark stars and Henry smiled gently.

"I love you," he said softly, 'and you may believe me when I say that I
have never said that to anyone but you.  " Chapter Fourteen QzrsQ
-Despite his good resolutions, it was a considerable time before Henry
let Polly go, whispering to her that she should go back into the
ballroom as unobtrusively as possible and that he would follow as soon
as he was able.  Polly, dazed with kisses and happiness, almost floated
into the room, convinced that everyone would immediately notice that
something was different.  No one seemed to do so, however.  The supper
dance was in progress.  Lucille was still surrounded by a circle of
family and friends at one end of the ballroom and looked up only
briefly as her sister-inlaw wafted past.  Hetty and Peter were sitting
together in an alcove, their heads bent very close together, their
words and smiles for each other alone.  Lady Belling ham and Sir
Godfrey Or bison were still dancing together.  Polly had paused when
her arm was unexpectedly seized from behind.

"Lady Polly," Tristan Dit ton hissed in her ear, "I must have speech
with you.  Immediately!"

Some of Polly's euphoria faded as she looked into Mr Dit ton's thin,
secretive face.  It was all she could do to avoid shuddering.  Once
again, his look ap praised her in the most unpleasant manner.  Polly,
fresh from the enchantment of Henry's kisses, found Dit ton's behaviour
deeply repellent.

"Perhaps some other time, sir," she began, as courteously as she was
able.

"I was about to rejoin my mother--' " The Dowager Countess may spare
you for a moment, I am sure," Dit ton said insinuatingly.

"There is a matter of supreme importance which we must discuss.  I have
been thinking of it ever since that distressing episode at the House of
Tides and I feel it my honour and duty to offer you the protection of
my name!"

Polly almost gaped at him.  Henry's words of love were still in her
mind and it was nearly impossible to accept that Tristan Dit ton had
just made her an offer of marriage.  And yet he seemed quite serious.
He drew her aside from the other couples who were jostling them as they
made for the supper room, and in a moment they were in the deserted and
dimly lit hall.

Polly struggled with her feeling of unreality.

"You do me great honour, sir," she said politely, 'but there is no
need.

Everyone knows of the incident and realises it was entirely innocent. "
In the darkness she thought she saw Dit ton smile.

"I had been led to believe that you were so proper a lady, so careful
for your reputation, that you would not refuse me.  Lady Polly!  Was I
then mistaken?"

Polly felt her temper rise at the insinuation that she had been in any
way to blame.

"I am sure that my reputation is as good as that of any lady,"

she said coldly, 'but I feel no need to protect it from so imaginary a
threat!  It was a generous offer, sir, but I must refuse.  " Through
the open ballroom doors she saw the Dowager Countess pass on her way
to supper and took a step forward.

Tristan Dit ton put a restraining hand on her arm.  A servant,
scurrying across the darkened hall, gave them a curious look.

Polly's patience snapped.

"What is all this about, sir?  I have already said--' Tristan Dit ton
put his thin face very close to hers.

"It is about a young lady who is not as careful of her reputation as
you are of yours.  Lady Polly!  How do you think your brother would
feel were he to discover that the lady he desires to marry has already
been free with her favours?  That Lord Edmund Grant- ley was before
him?"

Polly recoiled a step in disgust, staring at him in disbelief.

"You are loathsome, sir!  How dare you insinuate?"

"It is no insinuation."  Dit ton spoke with satisfied certainty.

"I have heard the whole tale--that they were alone at the inn, that
Grantley was boasting of deflowering Miss Mark ham, and that the
innkeeper confirmed the next day that Grantley had succeeded!  She had
been with him all night!

And if you do not agree to our betrothal.  Lady Polly, I will make sure
that every guest at this ball knows Miss Mark ham's disgrace!"

His eyes were burning with an excitement that sickened Polly.  She was
about to reject his words utterly when the memory of Hetty's arrival at
Dilling ham Court stopped her.  With hideous clarity she remembered
Peter's insistence upon an early wedding and Hetty's distress at the
Dowager Countess's objections.  Hetty, whose natural liveliness had
been tempered by a mysterious unhappiness.  Could it be true?  Perhaps
Peter knew and was trying to protect his betrothed the only way he
could?  Even worse, then, if he was prepared to make that sacrifice,
for Mr Dit ton to expose the truth before such a multitude.

Polly froze as an even more hideous thought occurred to her.  What if
Hetty were expecting a child?  Her faint the previous day was now very
suggestive of more than simple wedding nerves and exhaustion.  How
horrible would be her disgrace if it were true!  The thought took a lot
of the strength from Polly's response.

"You disgust me, sir!  You wish me to consent to a betrothal on the
grounds that you will denounce Miss Mark ham if I do not?  You must be
mad!"

"Not so!"  Tristan Dit ton caught Polly's arm in a cruel grip.

"You will do as I ask, Lady Polly.  Think of Miss Mark ham's dishonour,
think of your brother's anger and disgust!  And think of all these
prurient gossips who will turn it into the biggest scandal in years!
You cannot refuse me!"

"I cannot even believe it!  You must be mistaken, or lying..."  But
Polly knew that her response lacked conviction and she saw Dit ton
smile.

"I have witnesses who can prove Miss Mark ham was at the Rose and Crown
that night!  She would crumble under the first accusation!  Aye, and
all the world would be there to see it!"

Polly's breath caught in her throat with the shame and horror of it.
She could not think clearly.  She knew she must be mad to even think of
agreeing, but Dit- ton's hand was like a claw on her arm, his eyes
buming into hers.

Madness!  She could not throw away her own future because of Hetty's
behaviour.  Then, through the open door she saw them, Peter smiling
down into Hetty's face with such love, his hand covering hers as it lay
on his arm.

Polly remembered his unhappiness over the broken betrothal, how he had
made a fool of himself with Lady Bolt, how he had got drunk through his
misery on hearing the false news of Hetty's betrothal to Grantley.

"I am at the point where I need a rich wife," Dit ton was saying
conversationally, only heightening the horror of it all, 'and you are
both rich and well connected.  I could never aspire to marry an Earl's
daughter under other circumstances.  Come, my dear, we could make a
good match of it!

What do you say?  " There were a hundred people at the ball, Polly
thought with dread.  If Dit ton were to announce Hetty's downfall
before them all, the effect would be too devastating to contemplate. If
she could only buy some time, prevent the disclosure.  She need never
go through with it and she would be able to talk to someone, sort it
all out, explain.  Polly's mind was a whirl of thoughts and images.
Henry's face was before her, the scene between them in the conservatory
suddenly so distant it seemed almost imagined.  Or was this the
unreality?  Dit ton was like a coiled spring, unpredictable,
unstable.

"Very well," she said weakly, and heard his breath hiss with
satisfaction, 'but the betrothal must be kept a secret until I have had
chance to tell my family--' It had been a gamble and it showed at once
how far she had underestimated him.

"A secret!"  Dit ton exclaimed gaily.

"No such thing!  I want to shout it from the rooftops!"  He had grasped
her hand and was drawing her with hideous inevitability towards the
supper room, where the chink of china and buzz of voices could be
heard.  Polly hung back, suddenly terrified.

 "Oh, no!  You cannot!  I did not intend... We must wait--' But her
words fell on deaf ears.

"Come, come, my dear, do you think I shall give you the chance to cry
off!

Credit me with a little sense, I beg of you!  What a sensation this
will be-almost, but not quite, as good as telling the guests of Miss
Mark ham's debauchery!  " Polly gave a faint moan.

"Oh, never fear," Dit ton continued in the same light tone, "I shall
keep my part of the bargain for as long as you keep yours!  And here we
are--ready to break the news!"

A curious silence fell on the room when they entered.  The tables, in
long rows that stretched towards the picture windows at the end, were
laden with a harvest supper and almost full.  At the top table, the
whole Sea grave family were chatting animatedly to the friends and
neighbours around them.  Worse, to their left, the Duchess of March
night, Lady Laura and Lord Henry were enjoying the repast.  Henry's
head had been inclined towards his mother as she expressed some view on
the sweetness of the strawberries.  He looked up as Polly came closer
and the glad light sprang to his eyes, to be banished only slowly as he
saw Tristan Dit ton pulling her forward by the hand.

Dit ton reached the top table and stopped.  He addressed the Earl of
Sea grave.

"Lady Polly has done me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage,"

Tristan Dit ton said with oily complacency.

"She has made me the happiest of men!"

There was absolute silence.  The Dowager Countess put down her
wineglass with a clatter that sent her dessert spoon spinning away.

"Polly?  Engaged to Mr Dit ton?  What nonsense is this?"

Polly felt Tristan Dit ton stiffen beside her.  Afraid of his
instability, convinced that he would suddenly blurt out what he had
just told her, she hastened into speech.

"It is not nonsense.  Mama!  I assure you, I have consented to marry Mr
Dit ton.  After all, we have known each other all our lives, and I
esteem him greatly--' She broke off as she saw the look of contemptuous
amusement cross her elder brother's face.  Polly knew that she had
started to rattle on out of nervousness, here in front of all these
people.  And, as yet, Nicholas had said nothing at all.  Beside him,
Lucille's face was a blank mask.

Fortunately, Tristan Dit ton had been the only one convinced by her
words.

He beamed at the assembled group.

"Come, congratulate me on my conquest!"

Nicholas Sea grave stood up.  The look of scorn in his dark eyes was so
swift it was barely noticeable, but Polly saw and understood.  He would
not make a scene in front of his guests, but the reckoning would come
later.

"Thank you for your announcement, Dit ton," Sea- grave said
pleasantly.

"I

shall look forward to having the opportunity to discuss the matter with
my sister and.  " his hesitation was barely perceptible 'her trustee.
Sir Godfrey."

Dit ton's lips curved in a sneer.  Even he was not so thick-skinned to
miss the lack of warmth in the atmosphere.  He turned to Polly, his
hand at her waist, pushing her forwards into the centre of the room.

"Come, my love," he murmured, 'it is time to tell everyone of our
tender romance!  Speak up, lest your brother think you half-hearted!
You know you must convince him!  " Polly could hear the threat implicit
in his tone.  His hand was hot and damp through the thin silk of her
summer dress.  Her skin crawled.  She opened her mouth to say
something, anything, that might help win the day, though she knew in
her heart that the cause was hopeless.  Then she met Lucille's eyes.

The Countess of Sea grave had one hand resting lightly on her stomach
where the faintest curve of her pregnancy was beginning to show.  The
other hand was on her husband's arm, in a gesture at once tender,
supportive and united.

And the look in her vivid blue eyes as she gazed at Polly was one of
direct challenge.  A sob tore itself from Polly's throat.  Lucille had
everything that Polly wanted, everything that she had thought at last
she might achieve with Lord Henry March night, and here she was,
smashing it to pieces before it had begun.

She looked at Hetty Mark ham and found herself trembling on the very
edge of exposure.  Hetty's disgrace would be her freedom, but then
there was Peter.

Peter, who had never been particularly sensitive but was looking at her
with a mixture of puzzlement and concern, Peter who would be so hurt.
"You must excuse me... the heat... I feel so unwell..."

But before she could escape the pitiless stare of all those eyes.
Henry's chair went clattering back.  Polly saw the outrage and disgust
on his face, the blazing fury as he turned his back on her and stalked
out of the room, and then she fainted.

Somewhere beyond the locked door, Polly could hear the Dowager
Countess's voice rising and falling like a peal of bells.

"It's madness, I tell you, complete madness!  To throw herself away on
that loathsome creature well, really, Godfrey!  Someone must speak to
her!  No, not you, Godfrey, you would only make matters worse!  Oh,
Lord, what are we to do?"

There was a rumble from Sir Godfrey, the words indistinguishable, then
Polly heard Lady Belling- ham's soothing tones.

"Dear ma'am, I do not believe for one moment that Lady Polly wishes to
marry Mr Dit ton.  Surely what is of concern is the reason she feels
she must!"

Polly held her breath.  She had great respect for Lady Belling ham's
perspicacity.

"She has told us that it is that ridiculous business the other night!"
the Dowager Countess was saying tearfully.

"We have told her and told her that it is of no consequence, but she
insists that her reputation is damaged!

I never heard such a nonsense!  The girl has taken leave of her senses!
And to pretend that she holds him in esteem!  It's utterly absurd!  "
Polly heard the sound of a door closing across the corridor, then
Lucille's tones, soft and questioning.

"Lucille!"  the Dowager Countess expostulated.  "You must speak to
Polly!  At once!"

Polly tensed, awaiting the knock at the door.  She could hear Lucille's
tones, a brief murmur in stark contrast to the Dowager's histrionics,
and then there was silence.  Polly waited, but no knock came.  She
felt so relieved that she almost cried all over again, for now she
would at least be spared the necessity of lying to Lucille, something
she simply could not bear to do.

She slipped off the bed, where her hot, furious tears had soaked right
through the pillow, and went across to the open window.  The cool
evening breeze from the sea was stirring the curtains, caressing her
swollen face with its gentle touch.  Polly could not bear to look at
her reflection, both to avoid seeing her ravaged face but more to avoid
the shock of recognising the pain in her own eyes.

She had cried all night and for the better part of the following day,
until she had no tears left.  She had cried for herself, for her
brother Peter, who had inadvertently put her in this situation, and for
poor, feckless Hetty, whose obsession with glamour and consequence had
been her own--and now Polly's-- downfall.  But most of all, Polly cried
for the death of all her hopes.  She remembered the tenderness with
which Henry had held her only the previous evening, the stupefied
amazement on his face as Tristan Dit ton had made his announcement, and
the way he had turned his back and walked away.

She had been so foolish, believing that she could control Tristan Dit
ton, thinking it an easy matter to save Hetty's reputation and then
somehow save her own future.  Now she realised too late that even if
she explained everything at once, the barrier she had i placed between
herself and Henry March night could never be overcome.

The shadows were falling across the bowling green.  ; Polly found it
impossible to believe that it was only the previous day that the world
had seemed so bright | with promise.  But now.  She shut her mind to
it.

Soon--very soon--she would have to face the cumulative disapproval of
her family again, for they had been promised for an assembly at the The
Angel in Wood bridge, and Polly did not trust Tristan Dit ton to hold
his tongue were she to cry off.

She had seldom looked so ill as when she descended the stairs that
evening.

None of the family had been in to see her as she was dressing, a sure
sign of their disapproval, and the pity on Jessie's face as she had
viewed Polly's pale and swollen countenance was almost enough to send
her back to bed.  None of the frills and furbelows, the primping and
tweaking, could make any difference.  She looked dreadful.

All the Sea graves, Sir Godfrey Or bison and Lady Belling ham, were
assembled in the hall awaiting her.  No one said a word.  Polly thought
that Nicholas looked as angry as when she had refused Julian
Morrish--or possibly more so.

His dark eyes were blazing and his mouth was drawn in a very tight
line.  The Dowager Countess and Sir Godfrey both looked as though they
were about to pop with the effort of remaining silent, whilst Peter and
Hetty looked both distressed and embarrassed.  But it was Lucille and
Lady Belling ham with whom Polly knew she had to be careful, for they
were fully capable of guessing at least a part of what had happened.

By the time the party reached The Angel in Wood- bridge, Polly felt
that she had already reached breaking point.  There had obviously been
some agreement amongst the family that no one would mention her
betrothal, for both Lucille and Nicholas, with whom she was
travelling, avoided any subject that had even the slightest overtones
of engagement, marriage or Mr Dit ton.  Polly found it rather sinister.
Paradoxically, she found this silence, particularly on Lucille's part,
made her desperate to confide in her sister-in-law.  But Nicholas's
dark gaze, resting on her with exasperated resignation, kept her
silent.

It was clear that news of the unlikely betrothal had circulated around
Wood bridge with the speed of wildfire, for dozens of their
acquaintance hurried forward to offer congratulations, and those who
had been at the ball were still talking about it.  Miss Dit ton fell on
Polly's neck as soon as they entered the ballroom.

"Sister!"  she said in raptures, 'how delightful to see you!  Mama is
still aux anges and can speak of little else!  " She stood back, and
frowned at Polly's puffy, pasty face.

"Good Lord, you look quite freakish tonight, my dear!  I would have
expected to see you happier!"

Polly, reflecting miserably on a life in which she had to tolerate Miss
Dit ton's malicious pinpricks every day, could barely face the delight
of her mother.  Mrs Dit ton was sitting, beaming, beside a potted palm.
Her unctuous son, whose smile was twice as wide, was leaning on the
back of her chair and accepting the congratulations of all who passed.
As soon as she saw him, Polly began to feel physically sick.  There was
such an aura of evil exuding from him that she wondered no one else
could sense it.

Her torment had only just begun, however.  Tristan claimed her for the
first dance, and followed it up by pressing for the waltz as well.  In
vain did Polly protest that she did not care to dance.  He swept all
her objections aside.

 "Nonsense!"  he cried gaily, whilst his mother looked on indulgently
at his ardour and the Dowager Countess of Sea grave looked considerably
less enthusiastic.

"Nothing could be more appropriate!  My dear Polly--my very dear Polly,
you are mine now to natter and tease and monopolise!  What joy!

What delight!  " "It is perfectly in order for you to dance the waltz,
Polly," the Dowager Countess said, with the sort of weary patience
which suggested that she thought it was probably Polly's just
desserts.

Mr Dit ton clasped Polly very close.  His bony hands seemed to clutch
her to him, pressing against her in a thoroughly unpleasant manner. And
when she tried to ease away, he pulled her tightly against his sparse
chest and hissed, "Do you forget that you must dance to my tune now,
Lady Polly?  One word out of place and Miss Mark ham's reputation dies
forever!  Aye, and your brother's happiness too!  Smile, my dear!"

Unbidden, an old memory came into Polly's mind from when they had all
been children together.  Tristan had always been the one who took
pleasure in torturing the frogs and toads they found in the woodland
ponds, poking sticks at them, or worse.  Polly could remember screaming
at him to release a small bird that had fallen from its nest and was
fluttering helplessly in his greedy, cruel hands.  And now he was
torturing her, and enjoying himself thoroughly in the process.  She
hated him.  The bile was rising in her throat and a red mist hung
before her eyes.  The only way she could survive was to deaden all
feeling.

Tristan Dit ton stuck fast to Polly's side all night, acting the
attentive lover to the hilt.  At some point in the evening, the March
nights had arrived and Polly's heart had leapt until she had realised
that Henry intended to ignore her utterly.  The only gentleman who did
attempt to break Dit ton's monopoly was an officer of the 21st
Dragoons, who were stationed at Wood- bridge Barracks.  A number of
them were at me ball, their redcoats making a bright splash of colour
amongst the more sober black of the evening dress, and the young
captain made eager play for Polly's hand in a country dance until Dit
ton told him to take himself off.  Polly was embarrassed by Dit ton's
bad manners as she saw the captain back away in puzzlement and anger.
Nor did her own family evince any interest in her company.  It was as
though they had abandoned her completely to the Dit tons.  Never had
she felt so alone.

"Polly, you are looking like the spectre at the feast," Lucille said,
under her breath, pausing briefly beside her sister-in-law whilst Mr
Dit ton's attention was temporarily distracted by his sister.  Miss Dit
ton was begging her brother to confirm that Lady Laura March night was
looking positively sallow that evening and Lucille's clear gaze rested
dispassionately on the tittering brother and sister before coming back
to rest on Polly.

"Oh, Lord, Polly, I promised Nicholas that I would say nothing, but
when you told me last week that you would marry the first man who
asked, I scarce thought--' Polly took a breath to tell Lucille that she
wanted to explain, but Mr Dit ton turned back to them and the chance
was lost.

"The supper dance!"  Mr Dit ton said, still burning with the unpleasant
glow of excitement that his torment of Polly engendered.

"Lovely Lady Polly, do me the honour..."

There was no possible way that Polly could eat anything at all.  The
food at The Angel was very good for a provincial assembly, but Polly,
plagued by the joint torments of Tristan Dit ton's presence and the
sight of Lord Henry ostentatiously ignoring her, sat miserably looking
at the plate of strawberries and playing with her spoon.  Eventually
she excused herself and slipped out of the dining-room.  Not even
Tristan Dit ton would insist on accompanying her to the ladies' room.

Polly gazed at her reflection with complete lack of interest and
tweaked a curl back inside her coronet with a weary hand.  The
temptation to stay in here forever was overwhelming.  She would have to
tell Lucille.  She could not bear it.  A shadow fell across the mirror.
The candles wavered.  Polly swung round, a hand to her throat.

She would never have thought it of him, but then she had consistently
underestimated Lord Henry March night.  He did not care a rush for
convention and would go wherever he pleased, even into the ladies'
withdrawing-room.  As she watched, he closed the door with great
deliberation and came towards her.

"Good evening.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry said.  With icy courtesy.

"I want to talk to you."

Chapter Fifteen QysQ All of Polly's emotions flashed into immediate
and vivid life, as though she had previously been moving through a
dream.

Although Henry was standing at some distance from her, she could feel
the anger emanating from him, see the hostility in his eyes.  Even as
she grasped at the opportunity to speak to him and attempt to explain
the dreadful dilemma in which she found herself, something in her
quailed before the fury she saw in him.

She put out a hand towards him.

"Henry!  Oh, thank God!  Please--it is not as you imagine--' " No? Then
how is it, my lady?  " There was no gentleness in him now.  He took a
step forward and caught both her arms above the elbow.

"Is it that Dit ton could offer what I was not free to do?  Strange, I
did not think you the type to accept an offer for the sake of being
married!

Why, you have had many better chances!  Morrish!  Bel lars!"  He shook
her slightly.  "So perhaps it is that Dit ton's type attracts you?  But
again, I could have sworn that was not so!  Was his love-making
prettier than mine, perhaps?"

Polly wilted in his arms.

"Oh, do not," she whispered, unable to bear the anguish in his eyes.
She put up a hand to his cheek.

"Harry, it was not like that!  I had no choice..."

There was a moment of complete stillness, when the fury still burned in
Henry's eyes, then it faded and he slid his hands down her arms,
clasping her cold hands in his.

"Polly, my love, you must tell me what has happened.  I was so angry...
I am sorry--' He broke off.  " When I saw you tonight I knew something
was dreadfully wrong.  Tell me.  " He tightened his grip.  " You must
trust me.  " The easy tears stung Polly's eyes again and closed her
throat.  If Henry had remained angry, had reviled her, she would have
withstood his hostility in stony silence, but this gentleness almost
unmanned her.

"Oh, Harry, I cannot tell--' The tears choked her.  She could not bear
it.

Henry was still holding her tightly.

"Dit ton is compelling you into this offensive masquerade, is he not?
But--' he frowned '--I cannot see by what means..."

"I cannot tell," Polly said again, unable to meet his eyes.

"Oh, Harry, do not ask me--' " It cannot be because of that foolish
incident the other night," Henry continued, his tone hardening.

"That would be a nonsense.  So, Polly, what is it all about?
Blackmail?"

His tone compelled her to look up and meet his eyes.  She saw stark
determination there, anger, puzzlement and an intentness to find out
the truth.  Her resolve weakened.  But it would not be like confiding
in Lucille--Henry would feel obliged to take some action, and to pour
out Hetty's disgrace to him would be so unfair to her future
sister-in-law.

She could not break her silence and expose Hetty's guilt.

"It is not my secret to tell," she said piteously.

"But Harry, it is not my actions that have given Mr Dit ton the means
to exert his will..."

Henry frowned.

"Then--' " It is Hetty!  " Polly said, and burst into tears.

"Miss Mark ham?"  Henry seemed astounded.

"Polly, you must tell me.  Trust me--' Polly gazed at him hopelessly.
Surely he could see how desperate she was to tell him, that she trusted
him more than anyone in the world, and yet... Henry had forgiven her so
much--the youthful immaturity that had stunted her first love for him,
her foolish suspicions about his activities.  But now he would believe
that she did not trust him enough to confide in him, not understanding
that a loyalty to her family kept her silent.  Polly saw the look of
withdrawal she dreaded come into Henry's eyes, and in that second, she
realised that the most important thing was not to preserve Hetty's
secret, but to entrust Henry with it.  She started to speak, but
another voice interrupted her before she had said more than two
words.

"By all accounts, fishing in other men's pools is your favoured
occupation, March night!"  Tristan Dit- ton sneered from the doorway.

"An affecting tableau, but not one to which you have any right!  Do not
approach my promised wife again!"

All expression had been wiped clean from Henry's face.  He turned to
face the other man.  For a moment it seemed that Dit ton flinched back,
although Henry had made no move towards him.

"Take care that you do not make her a widow, Dit ton," he said softly,
but with an edge to his words that made Polly shiver suddenly.

"It will be my most earnest endeavour to see her so."

"Mr Dit ton!"  Barely had Henry brushed past Tristan Dit ton without
another word before Lady Belling ham was standing behind him in the
passage and addressing him in tones of deepest displeasure.

"You do realise that this is the ladies' withdrawing-room, sir?  I
assure you, you are the last person a lady would wish to meet when she
takes refuge in here!  Kindly retire!"

Mr Dit ton flushed bright red and sidled off down the corridor.

"Routed!"  her ladyship said with immense satisfaction.  She closed the
door behind her and turned her critical dark gaze on Polly.

"My dear, how very woebegone you look!  Did you have the chance to
speak to Lord Henry?  I sent him along to you as soon as I was able,
but I was afraid that that unpleasant Dit ton fellow would get in the
way!  What a vulgar piece of work that man is!"

Polly was not sure whether to laugh or cry.  There was something so
bracing about Lady Belling ham's practical common sense that it made
matters seem much less black.

"I was about to confide in Lord Henry when Mr Dit ton came in," she
admitted.

"It took me a little time to pluck up the courage and by then Mr Dit
ton had already found us.  Oh, dear!  Lord Henry will think that I do
not trust him--' " Indeed, my dear, and it is of the utmost importance
that he is made to understand!  " Lady Belling ham said
energetically.

"Lord Henry loves you so very much that I imagine you have occasioned
him a great deal of pain through this false engagement!  If you do not
act quickly he may not forgive you!"

"I did try," Polly said dispiritedly, 'but I did not have enough
time--' "And no doubt he wasted some of it in berating you!"  Lady
Belling ham shook her head sadly.

"Gentlemen are so predictable, but I have high hopes of Lord Henry's
intelligence and perception.  Surely he can see that you are being
blackmailed?"

"Yes, but I did not have the chance to explain--' Polly broke off.

"How on earth did you know that, Lady B.?"

"Oh, my dear..."  Lady Belling ham gestured widely 'how could you
possibly have agreed to marry that horrid little man otherwise?  For a
while I could not imagine what hold he had over you, then I realised
that it could be nothing to do with you personally--' "You cannot
know--' " No," Lady Belling ham said serenely, "I do not know the
precise truth.  All I know is that you are protecting someone else for
the best of motives."

She took Polly's hands.

"But I do urge you, my dear, to reconsider.  You may find that what you
have been told is very far from the truth..."

Polly stared.

"I wish I could believe you, ma'am," she said sadly, 'but all the
details fit the case.  You do not think that I would have agreed to the
betrothal otherwise?  Oh, I do not know what to do--' The door opened
and a young lady peered in a little dubiously.  Lady Belling ham took
Polly's arm and steered her out into the corridor.

"Come, we must see if we can find Lord Henry for you.  I cannot deny
that I am consumed with curiosity to know the truth, but Lord Henry
should be the first to hear!  You must tell him, and at once.  If
necessary, I shall occupy that repellent Mr Dit ton by telling him
exactly what I think of him.

That should distract his attention!  In fact, I think I shall do that
anyway!"

Lady Belling ham's plan was destined to be dashed, however.  Neither
Lord Henry March night nor Tristan Dit ton could be found when they
re-entered the ballroom.

Looking about, Polly thought that the company seemed to be thinning
rapidly.

The officers of the 21st Light Dragoons seemed to be vanishing from
before her eyes.

"Oh, this assembly is so tediously dull!"  Miss Dit- ton yawned.

"Mama, let us retire!  Where can Tristan have got to?"  She looked
about her, vexed.

"I

hope he will not mind if we take the carriage!  It is so thoughtless of
him to disappear just as we require his escort!  " As far as Polly was
concerned, Dit ton could not be far enough away.  She endured Miss Dit
ton's pretence at an affectionate farewell embrace, winced as she was
addressed as "Sister', and retreated thankfully to Lucille's side.  She
had already decided that she would seek a private audience with her
sister-in-law as soon as they reached Dilling ham Court.  She could
carry the secret of Hetty's disgrace no longer.

The journey home was almost as dreadful as the one to the assembly.

Lucille, Polly and Nicholas sat in silence whilst Polly ached to burst
out with the truth.  Other melancholy thoughts also occupied her mind.
A few moments more and she would have told Henry everything, but now he
would think that she did not trust him enough to confide.  And it had
been true.  doubt had kept her silent until it was too late.

Polly took no notice as the carriage lurched along the dark lanes from
Wood bridge to Dilling ham.  It was only when they came to an abrupt
halt in the middle of nowhere that she looked up in surprise.  Nicholas
opened the window and stuck his head out.  A cold mist was blowing in
from the sea, wreathing around the trees, creeping into the carriage.
Polly shivered.

She was uncertain of their precise location as she had not been paying
attention, but the night was cold and as desolate as only the empty
Suffolk nights could be.

"John?  What the devil's going on?"  Nicholas demanded.

"There's a barricade across the road, my lord," the coachman
responded.

"Army business, apparently, though here's one can tell you what's going
on--' " What's happening.  Lieutenant?  " Nicholas Sea- grave demanded
of someone beyond Polly's vision.  " Why have we stopped?  " There was
a murmur of conversation and then the soldier stepped around the side
of the carriage, his red coat vivid in the misty darkness.  His broad
smile dispelled some of the tension gathering inside, where Lucille and
Polly were just starting to worry.

"Oh it's you, my lord!  Please accept my apologies for stopping the
coaches--a precaution only--but there has been some trouble down on the
mud flats..."  He grinned suddenly, dropping all formality.

"You'll be glad to know, sir, that the operation has been a success and
both parties taken as we planned--' " Nicholas?  What is happening?  "
The Dowager Countess's voice reached them imperiously from the door of
the carriage she was sharing with the others.  " Why have we stopped in
this godforsaken place?  " The young Lieutenant turned hastily to
apologise.  "In just a moment we should be able to allow your journey
to proceed, ma'am..."

"Did you take the ship as well?"  Nicholas asked.

"We did, sir!  The Laribee was hanging about outside port for the best
part of the day, but she showed the revenue cutter a clean pair of
heels when they went after her!  When darkness fell she came in close
again and put a boat out at the mouth of the creek, but we were waiting
for them before they got to the rendezvous!  The crew swore blind that
they were innocent, but we found a tidy stock of brandy in the hold. It
was to be an exchange, a man out and the cargo in, only the men on the
beach started to quarrel and under cover of the noise and darkness--'
He broke off at the sound of marching footsteps on the road.  Polly,
leaning forward to peer into the darkness, drew back with an
exclamation as a posse of soldiers, mud stained and filthy, marched
past the carriages with two prisoners under escort in chains.  One was
utterly unknown to her, but the other-- " Tristan Dit ton!  " The
Dowager Countess's astounded tones cut the air.

"You have Tristan Dit ton there under arrest!  What on earth is going
on--' " Do close the carriage door.  Mama," Nicholas said hastily.

"We may progress now.  Questions must wait until we are back in the
warm, I think."

And he drew back into the coach.  They started to move again, but not
until Polly's astonished gaze had taken in every detail of Mr Dit ton's
extraordinary appearance.  Gone was the dandified, exquisite simpering
over his shirt- points, and in his place was a snarling monster,
straining helplessly against the chains that held him.  For a moment
his furious gaze picked her out and pinned her with his anger before he
was dragged past.

Polly shivered violently and, as the carriage picked up speed, she
burrowed as far under the rugs as she could in a vain effort to get
warm.

"Tristan Dit ton!"  The Dowager Countess was still expostulating loudly
as they all entered the hall at Dilling ham Court.

"If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I doubt I should have believed
it!

And you---' she swung around accusingly on her elder son '--you appear
to know all about it!"

Nicholas Sea grave was grinning broadly.

"Oh no, this is Harry March night's show, not mine!  I merely offered
my help when he asked!  You will have to ask Harry for the
explanation!"

"Harry March night!"  The Dowager Countess was beginning to resemble a
parrot in her repeti ton.

"What in the name of all that's holy can Harry March night have to do
with this?  Why, I like Harry above all people, he is the most charming
of men and he did us a great good turn in London, but--' She stopped
suddenly.

"And you, Polly!  What do you know of all this?  The betrothal to
Tristan Dit- ton--' Polly had not been listening to her mother's
exclamations.  She had suddenly realised with a feeling of sick horror
and indignation that her brother had known of Dit ton's criminality and
yet had said nothing, had done nothing to rescue her from the travesty
of her engagement to him.  Worse, only a night ago, Henry March night
had sworn to tell her the truth and had done so, but had neglected the
most important part--that Tristan Dit ton was the real villain.

"How dare you?"  Her words cut across whatever Lucille had been saying
to the Dowager Countess.  She glared at Nicholas.

"How dare you and Henry March night play your games and think it
entertaining?  You could have saved me--one word from you and I would
have known--' Her voice broke and she started to sob.

"You must see that I could not, Polly."  Nicholas had come across to
her and tried to put an arm around her, but Polly pushed him away
furiously.

"The situation was so fraught with danger that, if Dit ton had had any
hint that all was not well, he might have run before we could trap
him--' Polly did not want to hear him.  She turned away and stumbled up
the stairs to her room where, for a second time, she locked herself in
and cried as though her heart were breaking.

Chapter Sixteen QsrQ Dy the time that a pale dawn was breaking over
Dilling ham Court, an exhausted Polly had thought about her situation
twenty times over and had been forced to admit that Nicholas had been
right.  Had she known of Tristan Dit ton's connections with Chap- man,
had she been told he was a criminal, she would never have been able to
treat him with the cool courtesy she had usually meted out to him.  It
would have been impossible to behave normally in his presence.
Nevertheless, Henry's behaviour rankled.

She had been chastising herself for lack of trust in him; it was
difficult not to feel that he had shown a similar lack of faith in
her.

As for Hetty's secret, it seemed to Polly that it would be best to keep
silent on that score now that Dit ton was taken.  There was no way of
knowing if he had spoken the truth and it seemed to Polly that least
said was soonest mended.  She knew that it would be difficult to avoid
the perceptive questions of Lucille and Lady Belling ham and the more
forthright ones of the Dowager Countess, but with the wedding only five
weeks away she was determined to hold her peace.  Dit ton could not
constitute a threat any more and it would be pointlessly distressing to
rake up the story.  Henry was the only one to whom she had confided
that she was being blackmailed through Hetty, and Polly thought rather
wearily that Henry was unlikely to be able to press her on the matter
since she would never be alone with him ever again.

Polly was too tired and too resigned to try to delude herself that
matters could ever be the same between her and Henry.  For a brief time
everything had been perfect, but now it was spoiled beyond
redemption.

Polly slept fitfully and woke late, going down to breakfast determined
to put a brave face on matters.  The fact that everyone else had eaten
and the room was empty helped her gather her courage.  However, she
almost fell at the first hurdle when she emerged from breakfast to find
Henry March night being ushered into the drawing-room.  The Dowager
Countess, on espying her daughter about to bolt up the stairs, seized
her arm in a vice-like grip and marched her into the room.

"There you are, Polly!  Lord Henry is come to tell us all about Mr Dit
ton's activities!  I am sure we are all agog!"  She peered at her
daughter's face rather critically.

"Dear me, you are as wan as a December morning, my love!  The shock of
it all, I suppose!  Medlyn, some tea if you please!"

"Mama!"  Polly began, in an agonised whisper, but the Dowager appeared
to be suddenly afflicted by deafness.  She took a seat on the sofa and
compelled Polly to sit down beside her.  The whole of the family was
assembled, Peter and Hetty on the window-seat, Lucille, Nicholas and
Henry in scattered armchairs set in a circle.

There was a pause whilst the tea was brought in by two footmen and
placed before the Dowager Countess.  Polly felt almost stifled with
nerves.  Even more galling, she had known before her mother spoke that
she looked dreadful; it seemed that every time Henry saw her now she
was looking wan and pasty, a far cry from his own careless elegance.

"Tristan Dit ton as Chapman's protector!"  the Dowager Countess
exclaimed, breaking the silence and passing Henry strong tea in a china
cup.  She bestowed a warm smile upon him.

"It is scarcely to be believed!  Why, I always found him a loathsome
man, but never suspected... Nicholas!"  She appealed to her elder son.
"Did you ever imagine Tristan Dit ton a criminal?  Before you knew him
to be so, of course!"

"No, Mama," Nicholas Sea grave said obligingly, "I am ashamed to admit
that I had no notion!  I always found him deeply offensive but had no
idea that he had the ability to run a criminal operation!"

"Extraordinary!"  the Dowager opined.

"Dit ton was certainly intelligent enough to appear stupid," Henry said
drily, 'but with too little self- control to resist boasting about his
achievements!  My suspicions were first aroused by the gloating
excitement with which he spoke of Chapman in London, and kept insisting
that the man had a rich protector.  I soon saw that he thought himself
invulnerable.  But his vanity was his downfall.  " He shook his head.

"His contacts in Suffolk made this the perfect escape route for
Chapman.  Dit ton had been dabbling in smuggling for a number of years
when he needed the money-- he even used his carriage to transport
smuggled goods under the noses of the militia!  And, of course he
cultivated that foolish, foppish attitude which led one to believe that
he was nothing but a dandy."

"No doubt you recognised that deception since you practised it
yourself!"

Polly put in a little pointedly.  She gave Henry a very straight look
as his thoughtful gaze transferred itself to her.  It was very
difficult for her to swallow her resentment and hear him out
courteously.  She found that she felt very angry.

Everyone seemed to be looking at her and to distract attention she
fiddled with her teacup and only succeeded in spilling the liquid and
drawing even more attention to herself.  The Dowager Countess pursed
her lips and filled another cup for her daughter.

"How did you know that Dit ton intended to try to smuggle Chapman out
of the country.  Henry?"  Lucille asked curiously when the commotion
had subsided.

Henry shifted a little in his chair.

"I received the intelligence that Chapman was to be helped to escape
abroad and then matters made perfect sense," he said.  "Dit ton was
spending a lot of time down here and Suffolk has the ideal coastline
for smuggling.  Goods, men..."  he shrugged 'there are so many deserted
beaches, mud flats, creeks.

It should have been easy for him, but I was watching him all the time
and in the end, of course, he gave himself away by quarrelling with his
allies and allowing the Dragoons to capture them all!  " "That night at
the House of Tides..."  Polly began, drawn in despite herself.

"Yes--' Henry smiled a little '--Dit ton was certainly on the prowl
that night!  It was one of the nights when the tide was right to bring
a boat in, but in the end the weather was against it.  It was Dit
ton's bad luck to be marooned at the House of Tides that night, and my
good luck that he was so close by!  Like me, he knew that there was a
passageway from the cellars to the sea and he decided to explore."
Henry gave Polly an expressive look.

"The spiral staircase in your room there led directly down to the
cellars.  I imagine Dit ton had heard mention of that too.

Certainly his explorations took him into your bedroom and into direct
confrontation with your chamber pot!  " There was a rustle of laughter
from everyone.  Polly had to make a conscious effort not to smile.  She
did not want to forgive Henry so easily and she could feel her de
fences weakening.  It was so fatally easy to like him, to feel that
warmth melting her hostility.

Lucille shivered a little, sobering abruptly.

"Poor Mrs Dit ton--and poor Thalia!  I could almost find it in my heart
to feel sorry for them!"

"Lucille!  That horrid Miss Dit ton!"  Hetty raised her brows.

"How can you spare them your sympathy?"

Lucille smiled a little sadly.

"Only think what it must be like for them now, Hetty!  Mrs Dit ton was
always so proud of her offspring and she has precious little to be
proud of now!  A son in prison and a daughter who will no doubt be
abandoned by her fiance!

They will be forever moving now, trying to conceal their notoriety,
looking over their shoulders, afraid that someone will give their
shameful secret away.  Tristan has brought them to that and I pity
them."

"And to think that Lord Henry knew all the time that Tristan Dit ton
was a criminal!"  Polly said, an edge to her voice.  Everyone looked at
her again.

The words had come out more loudly than she had in tended, but she was
so angry she could not contain them.

"You told me much of the truth about your activities, Lord Henry," she
said coldly, aware that everybody was listening but speaking for Henry
alone, 'that night at the ball.  But the most important part you chose
to neglect--' "As did you, my lady," Henry said gently, holding her
gaze, 'when I pressed you to tell me the means by which Dit ton
compelled you into the betrothal.

Would you care to enlighten us now that all is safe?  " Polly caught
her breath.  Against her will her gaze slid to Hetty and away again.
She had not thought to speak of this in company.

"I think not, sir."  She cleared her throat.

"The matter is closed now that Mr Dit ton is under arrest.  It need
concern us no further."

"Perhaps you still consider yourself bound by the betrothal?"  Henry
asked, for all the world as though he genuinely believed it might be
so.

Polly reddened with a combination of embarrassment and annoyance at his
persistence.

"Certainly not!"  she snapped.

"But the matter is no longer relevant--' " Nonsense, Polly!  " The
Dowager Countess could be most obtuse when she chose to be.

"You may speak freely, my love!  We are all positively consumed with
curiosity and will not rest until we know!"

Polly, who had found herself incapable of tearing her gaze away from
Henry's look of challenge, forced herself to face her mother instead.

"No, truly.  Mama, it will not serve--' " I think you should speak out,
Polly.  " Surprisingly it was Lucille who spoke up now, gently but
firmly.

 "You may find that what you believe--what you have been told--is not
the case.  At the very least, I do not believe that the truth can be
hidden any longer."

Polly stared at her.

"Lucille?  But--how can you know?"

"Tell us," Lucille repeated, and her tone was inexorable.

Polly allowed herself to look across at Peter and Hetty, who were
sitting opposite her on the sofa.  Peter looked vaguely puzzled but the
delicate colour had already started to come into Hetty's face, as
though she sensed what was to come.  Polly took a deep breath.

"Very well, if it must be so.  Mr Dit ton came to me on the night of
the ball.  First he suggested that we should become betrothed to
protect my good name from the scandal caused by his presence in my
bedroom that night at the House of Tides.  I thought this ridiculous
and told him so.  He then dropped all pretence of respect and
affection."  Polly looked briefly at Hetty again.

This was so very difficult.  Everybody was quite silent, waiting for
her to continue.  Lucille was willing her on with a look of combined
sympathy and determination.

"Mr Dit ton told me," Polly said very clearly, 'that he had information
injurious to Hetty's reputation and that he would make it
public--announce it in the ball- room--if I did not immediately consent
to an engagement between the two of us.  " "Oh!"  Hetty had gasped even
before Polly finished speaking, pressing one hand to her mouth, her
cheeks scarlet and her eyes wide with horror.  Polly watched as Peter
moved closer, taking her hand in a comforting hold.

 "Mr Dit ton must have told you what that information was in order to
gain your consent," Lucille observed, coolly.

"And it must have been convincing.

You would not have believed it else.  " Polly's eyes flew to her
face.

"Yes, indeed, but-- Lucille, I cannot!"  She threw another look at
Hetty, who had turned her face into Peter's shoulder.

"Hetty, I am so sorry!  I did not wish to tell--' Peter's face was
grim.

"You should finish Dit ton's tale.  Poll!"

"How can I?"  Polly appealed to them.  She felt sick at what was
happening.

Hetty looked like a broken butterfly, her tumbled curls brushing
Peter's shoulder, her face hidden.  Polly had a horrible vision of
Peter pushing her away, repudiating her when he knew the truth.  Yet
Peter was holding her so tenderly, whispering words of comfort, almost
as though he knew.  "You know!"

she said, almost accusingly.

"I know the truth," Peter said harshly, 'but what is the tale?  "
Astonishingly, whilst Polly groped for the words, it was Henry who
answered.

"My guess is that Dit ton told Lady Polly that Miss Mark ham had spent
a night alone at an inn with a man, and that the man was Edmund
Grantley."

This time it was Polly who gasped.  She stared at him in
astonishment.

"How could you possibly know?"

Across from her.  Henry said bitterly, "I would guess further that Lady
Polly could not bear for her future sister-in-law to be ruined, but
most of all she could not see you hurt and disillusioned, Peter.
Perhaps she thought that you might already know and that you were
protecting Miss Mark ham by offering her marriage.  In either case.
Lady Polly knew that you loved Miss Mark ham sincerely and would be
dreadfully injured by the disclosure.  It was misplaced loyalty that
kept her silent--and impelled her into the betrothal."

Polly could not speak.  Hetty was crying quietly in Peter's arms and
Polly wished she could follow suit.  Her mother's face was stiff with
shock and horror, Nicholas looked almost as grim as his brother, and it
was Lucille who came across to Polly in a rustle of silk and put an arm
around her.

"I did what I thought was right!"  Polly said.  It seemed to her that
the words came out too loudly, rattling the china, making her listeners
wince.

"Of course you did," Lucille said soothingly, hugging her close.

"It is just that Mr Dit ton's story was not true.  Oh, if only you had
confided in someone--' She bit her lip, clearly thinking that this was
hardly the time for recriminations.

The Dowager Countess, who had been viewing Hetty's sobbing figure with
a mixture of concern and doubt, turned to Lucille, her face clearing.

"The tale was not true, you say?  Dit ton invented it?  But--' Nicholas
Sea grave stirred slightly.

"Peter," he said thoughtfully, 'there is nothing for it but to tell the
truth.  " Hetty gave a little whimper.

"Oh, must we, indeed?  I cannot bear--' " Yes, you can, my love.  "
Peter put her a little away from him, giving her an encouraging smile
so full of love and warmth that Polly felt a huge lump in her throat.
This was very different from her imaginings, from the denunciation and
horror that she was certain would greet her revelations.

"It is true," Peter said grimly, 'that Edmund Grant- ley took Hetty to
the Rose and Crown at Famforth and imprisoned her there.  There is no
doubt his intention was to seduce her.  He had taken her driving that
afternoon and Hetty had become concerned at the distance they had gone
from home.  It was dusk when they pulled into the yard at Famforth, and
Grantley's intentions soon became clear to her.  " He glanced down at
Hetty, who was still held close to his side, her eyes cast down, her
face now as pale as it had been scarlet before.

"He kept her locked in one of the chambers for several hours whilst he
drank below," Peter continued savagely.

"Several people heard Grantley boasting drunkenly of the ripe little
bird he had waiting for him upstairs.  All might have fallen out as he
had planned had I not chosen to put up at Famforth that night."

"You!"  It was the Dowager Countess whose stunned accents spoke the
word and conveyed that she had already understood the rest of the
story.

Peter sat up a little straighter and took Hetty's hand in his once
more.

She was still very pale, but a light burned in her eyes.  Watching her,
Polly understood.  Hetty was safe in the knowledge that Peter loved her
above all things and that his love would never falter.  He would not
desert her to the condemnation of the world.

"It was too late to travel on to Kings mar ton that night, and Famforth
was conveniently on my route," Peter confirmed, meeting his mother's
eyes very directly.

"Hetty heard my arrival, heard me talking to the ostler, and
recognised my voice."  He looked at her and smiled.

"She smashed the window and shouted to me for help.  Grantley was still
downstairs and I..  persuaded him to take himself off.  It was quite a
mill."

There was grim amusement in Peter's voice.

"Then I went to find Hetty.  She was desperately upset and
frightened."

There was a pause whilst everyone filled in the missing bits for
themselves.

Polly could imagine Hetty's overwhelming relief at her rescue, the
breaking of the tension after such terror, Peter's fear for her and his
feelings on finding her unharmed.  An irresistible passion could quite
easily sweep one away.  Moral frailty, perhaps, but entirely
understandable.  Looking up, she caught Henry March night's eyes upon
her, accurately reading every thought and looking very interested.
Polly blushed and looked away.

"I think you all know already," Peter said gently, 'how much I love
Hetty and how honoured I am that she will be my wife.  None of that has
changed and I would marry her tomorrow if I could!  I wish with all my
heart that I had never done anything that endangered her reputation
but--' he shrugged '--such things happen and it is pointless to deny
it.  Poor Hetty has been through agonies of regret and remorse but I
feel she has done nothing of which she should be ashamed.  I can only
repeat that I love her with all my heart.  " "A good thing that you are
to many so soon!"  The Dowager Countess said trenchantly, conveniently
forgetting that it had been her most ardent hope to see the marriage at
St George's, Hanover Square, the following spring.

"But the scandal, Peter!  Whatever can Mrs Mark ham have thought when
Hetty did not return that night?"

"Mama was most distressed," Hetty confirmed, speaking for the first
time and just managing to overcome her embarrassment.

"Fortunately, my aunt and cousins were from home, so knew nothing of
the scandal, and when Mama saw that it was Peter who had rescued me and
that we were..."  she blushed 'betrothed once more, her fears were put
to rest.  " The Dowager Countess snorted.

"A fine protector, indeed, who takes advantage--' Aware of where her
words were leading her, she broke off again.  Her eye fell on her
younger son, defiantly looking back at her, and she softened
slightly.

"Well, well!"  She looked as though she were about to say "No harm
done!"  but quickly changed her mind.

"What I do not understand," Lucille said, a frown on her forehead, 'is
how Tristan Dit ton came to know of this--or at least to know enough to
make up so damaging and scurrilous a story.  " Now it was Henry's turn
to look a shade embarrassed.

"I can see that there is nothing to be done but tell you the rest. Lady
Sea grave--I was hoping to spare you this, for a little time at
least--' He broke off and sighed heavily, seeing the look of blank
incomprehension on all their faces.

"It was Lady Bolt who told Dit ton about the episode at the inn."

"Lady Bolt!"  Several people spoke at once.

"It does not surprise me that she is spreading slanderous gossip," the
Dowager Countess observed.

"But she was at Weller den with you when Peter was at Famforth!"  Polly
exclaimed and found that everyone was looking at her again.  She turned
bright red as Henry looked at her with quizzically raised brows.

"I mean... I understood that Lady Bolt... that you..."

Henry's smile mocked her.

"Just as you understood that I had arranged a tryst with Lady Bolt at
Richmond?  It was only business, I fear, contrary to all appearances!
It is true that Lady Bolt and I were briefly at Weller den's
houseparty, though not together in any sense of the word," he added
drily.

"In fact, Lady Bolt left only a day or two after Peter did.

Her intention, I believe, was to join the Duke of Gars ton at the New
market races.  I imagine her route took her through Famforth--I know it
did, for she stayed at the Rose and Crown only the night after Peter
was there.

The landlady there knows Lady Bolt and also knows of her connection
with the Mark ham family.  She was bursting to tell her ladyship this
prime piece of gossip and no doubt she was rewarded for the
information.  " "And Mr Dit ton?"  the Dowager Countess pressed.

Henry gave an ironic smile.

"This part might be amusing were it not that the behaviour of Dit ton
and Lady Bolt was so damaging.  You may know that the two of them are
old..."  he cleared his throat 'old friends.  In recent times they have
been in a different business together.  Lady Bolt has lent Dit ton
considerable sums of money, has become involved in several illegal
gaming rackets with him and has even, I suspect, benefited from his and
Chapman's criminal activities.  The extent of her involvement is
something on which she is currently being questioned.  She was arrested
this morning.  " He turned back to Lucille.

"I am sorry if the news occasions you any pain.  Lady Sea grave."

"I shall bear it with fortitude," Lucille said, straight faced.

"But we digress.  Did Lady Bolt pass on the gossip to Dit ton?"

Henry nodded.

"She did.  She wrote to him immediately.  She knew that he loved
scandal and she was also sure that he might find the information useful
at some point in the future.  Of course, she was correct."  He glanced
briefly at Polly, who looked away.

"The piquant part, however, was that Lady Bolt did not approach the
subject directly.  She liked to hint and tease, and at no point did she
tell Dit ton whom the gentleman was by name.  He, knowing that Miss
Mark ham had recently been courted by Grantley, made the obvious
assumption.  I know, because I have seen and destroyed the letter.  Dit
ton was carrying it last night."

"So you knew that as well!"  Polly was so affronted she thought she
might burst.

"You knew why I had agreed to the betrothal even though you pretended
you did not!"

"I only knew about the letter after Dit ton was arrested," Henry said
calmly, 'and I could not be certain that that was the means he used to
compel you to marry him.  There might have been something else!  "
Polly was not to be pacified.

"I do not believe you!  Of all the cruel tricks!  Oh!  You are
despicable--' " Polly!  " The Dowager Countess's shocked tones mingled
with Lucille's more tempered reproof.  Henry did not seem much put out.
Polly thought he was almost smiling and she felt she could have slapped
him had she been closer.

"The tea has gone cold," Lucille observed prosaically in an attempt to
calm the atmosphere.

"Nicholas, would you pull the bell for some more?  Henry, will you
stay?"

 Henry March night got to his feet.

"No, ma'am, I thank you.  I have work to do.  I am not sure--' his gaze
touched Polly's face briefly '--whether I shall return to Suffolk."

"But you must come to the wedding!"  Hetty said hopefully.  She seemed
to have almost recovered her spirits now that the dreadful truth had
come to light and no one, not even the Dowager, had condemned her as a
fallen woman.

Henry smiled.

"I should be very glad to do so if I can," he said, 'and I wish you
both very happy!  " There was an awkward silence after Nicholas had
gone out to see Henry to his curricle.  The Dowager Countess made some
comment about the weather, indicating that the topic of the past
fifteen minutes was now effectively closed.  Hetty ventured a remark
about the wedding arrangements and soon everyone was chatting about the
rival merits of orange blossom or hot-house lilies to decorate the
church.  For a fantastical moment it seemed to Polly as though the
whole episode had never even occurred.  She was left to marvel at the
swiftness with which the most enormous of family secrets could be swept
successfully under the carpet.

Chapter Seventeen QysQ You are my only hope now, Polly!  " The Dowager
Countess fixed her daughter with tragic dark eyes.

"I had every expectation of seeing Hetty and Peter married in London,
but of course that is out of the question now!  I was never more
shocked in my life!

And Hetty the daughter of so respectable a man!  There must have been
some sad lack of guidance in her upbringing--perhaps the influence of
that dreadful Cyprian," the Dowager added thoughtfully, brightening at
so plausible an explanation.

"I feel.  Mama, that you should be laying the blame at Peter's door if
you must apportion it anywhere," Polly said firmly.

"He is the seducer, after all!"

"Yes, and in such a low place as that inn!"  the Dowager mourned.

Polly hid a smile at the thought that Peter's behaviour would have been
more acceptable had he chosen more salubrious surroundings.

"I do feel that Hetty should show a certain reticence," the Dowager
continued.

"Why, she behaves as though nothing has happened!  It shows a certain
unsteadiness of character!"

 Polly thought that Hetty's ebullience sprang more from relief than a
want of feeling.

"I am persuaded that Hetty's feelings are all that is proper,"

she said.  "She is very young, Mama, and is understandably excited
about the wedding.  Now, in what way am I your only hope?"

"Why, for a fashionable wedding, of course!"  Happily, the Dowager was
now diverted.

"First Nicholas and Lucille marry in that hole-in-the-comer fashion,
and now Peter... But you will not disappoint me, I know!  It is what
your father would have wanted--' Polly was looking vaguely confused.

"But, Mama, I have no intention of getting married--' " No intention! "
The Dowager Countess laid aside the linen she had been folding for
Hetty's trousseau.  " But surely it is as good as arranged?  I assumed
that Lord Henry was only waiting until he could wash his hands of this
sordid affair with Tristan Dit ton!  Surely--' "You are mistaken.
Mama."  Polly got up hastily.  In the five weeks since Henry March
night had left Suffolk, she had had ample time to reflect on what had
happened and resolve that she could never explain to her mother why
such a match was now impossible.

"There never was an understanding between Lord Henry and myself--'
Polly steeled herself against the memory of that brief time when they
had been in such perfect accord.  " And I would be astounded were he
even to return to Dilling ham for the wedding next week!  " she
finished with relief.

The Dowager raised her dark brows.

"Now there you are fair and far out!"  she said triumphantly.

"I have had the most delightful letter from Lord Henry, engaging
himself for the wedding and the breakfast!  He will be escorting his
mother and sister.  Oh, and the Vereys are also coming up from London!
Is that not fine?  Perhaps," the Dowager said, brightening, 'it will be
almost as good as a Society wedding, after all!  " Lord Henry did not
come to the wedding.  The Duchess of March night, accompanied by the
Vereys and stately in Dowager purple, explained graciously that her son
had been detained on business but hoped to join the wedding party later
in the day.  Polly was acutely disappointed.  She tried not to lose
interest in the proceedings as a radiant Hetty wafted up the aisle on
Nicholas Sea grave's arm to be joined in holy wedlock with his
brother.

The service went very smoothly.  The Dowager Countess cried becomingly
into a large lace-edged handkerchief and Mrs Mark ham sniffed slightly
less elegantly in the pew opposite.  Hetty and the Dowager both wore
expressions of faint relief as she floated down the aisle again, this
time on her husband's arm.  A happy end to a potential scandal, Polly
thought with a smile.  Now that they were safely married and Hetty had
the protection of Peter's name, the whole unfortunate episode could be
allowed to slip into the past where it belonged.

The wedding breakfast at Dilling ham Court seemed interminable to
Polly.

Had Henry been there she would have been consumed with nerves, but as
it was, she felt both disappointed and let down.  Eventually they rose
from table to take a rest before the evening dance and supper for the
Sea graves' tenants and the villagers.  Polly felt out of sorts.
Misery had prompted her to eat too much and the meal weighed heavily on
her stomach.  She lay down in the cool of her room and allowed herself
to doze.

She was awoken by the sound of hooves on the gravel outside and voices
raised in greeting.  Hurrying across to the window, Polly was in time
to see Henry March night hand his reins to one of the grooms as Nick
Sea grave came forward to shake his hand and lead him up the steps into
the house.

That put a different complexion on the evening.  Polly, lethargy
forgotten, rushed to the bell and rang energetically for Jessie.

By the time she was ready, the dancing had already started in the Long
Barn.

Peter was energetically twirling his bride around in a spirited country
dance whilst the villagers, made merry by drink and good food, roared
their encouragement.  The older folk had retired from the fray, but the
Vereys had remained and Lady Laura March night seemed to have persuaded
the Duchess to allow her to stay.  Polly was immediately swept into the
dance by Simon Verey.

Henry was dancing with Therese Verey and Polly attempted the difficult
manoeuvre of trying to see his face whilst executing the complicated
steps of the dance.  She could read nothing there.  Nothing of
encouragement or liking or interest.  He did not even glance in her
direction.  She sighed inwardly.

Perhaps they were back as they had been a few short months ago,
mingling at the same social events but apart, almost strangers.  It
seemed intolerable and yet she might have to learn to live with it.

Then Simon Verey was steering her across the floor towards Henry and
was saying, "You must grant Lord Henry a dance.  Lady Polly, for he
has ridden all this way solely for that privilege!"

Henry gave him a droll smile.

"What a good friend you are, Simon, giving all a fellow's secrets
away!"

Simon smiled imperturbably, gravitated back to his wife's side, and
Henry took Polly's hand with grave courtesy.

"Will you dance.  Lady Polly?  Good manners might compel you to accept
after that introduction!"

"I need no compulsion, sir," Polly said, looking up into those steady
grey eyes and feeling a little dizzy.  Hope and fear were warring
within her.

Did they have another chance?

They danced in silence.  The country jigs and figured dances favoured
at such rustic gatherings hardly leant themselves to conversation.  All
about them the chatter and laughter ebbed and flowed, the tankards of
ale were drained and replenished, but Polly was only conscious of
Henry's eyes following her through the movement of the dance and the
brief touch of his hand on hers.

"You have been good enough to grant me this dance.  Lady Polly," Lord
Henry said when the music ended.

"Will you go further and grant me a private interview?  There are
matters we must discuss--' " Lord Henry!  " It was Hetty, bright-eyed
and beaming with happiness, who was at his elbow.

"Oh, I am so glad you were able to be here!"

She stood on tiptoe as Henry bent to kiss her cheek and wish her
happy.

Polly wondered fleetingly how Hetty had managed to achieve such an easy
friendship with him.  But then, Lucille had also found him both
friendly and charming.  It seemed that she was the only one who had
difficulty in achieving such intimacy and that was only because she
could not escape that powerful attraction he held for her.  As Henry
had said only a few months before, they could never be comfortable with
each other.

"You must not be angry with me.  Lord Henry," Hetty was continuing
sweetly, 'but I am come to take Polly away!  She has promised to attend
me this evening and my new Mama.  " she nodded towards the Dowager
Countess 'tells me it would be fitting for me to retire now!  It seems
a shame..."  for a moment Hetty looked at the revellers a little
enviously 'that I must miss the party!

" Henry stepped back with a slight bow.

"Then I shall hope for an opportunity to continue our conversation
later, Lady Polly."

Polly hoped that her disappointment did not show as sharply on her face
as she felt it inside.

It was much later that she was able to rejoin the party.  Hetty had
retired to bed with becoming modesty and there was only a small moment
of awkwardness when both mothers clearly felt they should make mention
of what to expect on the wedding night, only to remember that this was
hardly necessary.  Mrs Mark ham had become quite tearful now that her
only fledgling was married and had to be dosed with medicinal brandy in
the library.  As Lucille had been too tired to stay late, this duty
fell to Polly, who patiently listened to Mrs Mark ham's rambling tales
of Hetty's childhood.  Eventually Mrs Mark ham hauled herself to her
feet a little unsteadily and went off to bed and Polly cut through the
empty ballroom, where the chandeliers still blazed, and out through the
conservatory.

It was very dark on the terrace.  The sound of music and laughter still
drifted through the trees from the Long Barn, and the torchlight glowed
faintly.  As Polly closed the conservatory door behind her, a slight
figure came hurrying along the terrace and almost collided with her.
There was a muffled exclamation, then the figure put back the hood of
its cloak and revealed herself to be Lady Laura March night.

"Oh, Lady Polly!"  Laura gasped.

"How you startled me!  I did not see you there!"

She cast a swift look around.

"Please could you pretend that we have not met?  Indeed, it is of the
utmost importance, for you see, I am eloping!"

She brought the words out with a certain nourish and in the moonlight
her eyes were bright with excitement.

"Mr Far rant--' Polly began.

"He is waiting with the carriage at the end of the lime drive!"  Lady
Laura interrupted excitedly.

"He was a little unhappy with the plan, but I persuaded him!  Mama was
quite immovable over the scheme to send me to Northumberland and I knew
I should not see my dearest Charles for an age were I to comply!  Oh,
dear Lady Polly, say you will not betray me!"  She caught Polly's hands
in a desperate grip.

"Of course not," Polly said hastily, giving Laura's hands a reassuring
squeeze.

"But are you certain that you are doing the right thing?  Your family
will be very displeased by a runaway match--' " If I am Charles' wife I
shall have my whole happiness," Laura said confidently, her eyes
shining like stars, 'and though it grieves me to go against the wishes
of my family, I cannot lose that which is most precious to me!  Wish me
joy!"  She reached up to give Polly an impulsive kiss.

"I am so happy!"

"I wish you all the luck in the world," Polly said, a lump in her
throat at such transparent happiness.  "Now, you had best begone before
anyone else sees you!"

Laura paused on the edge of flight, fumbling in the deep pocket of the
coat.

"Oh, I almost forgot!  I was going to leave this with a servant, but
perhaps you would be so good... It is for Henry, but please do not give
it to him until the end of the evening.  I could not bear for him to
worry about me, but rather that than that he should catch up with
us!"

The letter was crisp and smooth between Polly's fingers.  She watched
Laura's hurrying shadow disappear along the colonnade.  Polly was not
sure how long she stood there alone in the darkness, but it was long
enough for the glow of the carriage lights to fade away between the
trees.

"Do not give it to him until the end of the evening..."  She did not
want to break her word to Laura, but even less could she lie to Henry
or keep a secret from him.  She thrust the letter into the bodice of
her dress and walked slowly across the cobbled yard towards the barn.
There had been a break in the dancing whilst the guests partook of
supper and Polly spotted Henry quickly, deep in conversation with Nick
Sea- grave.  As she hesitated to approach them.  Henry looked up and
their eyes met.  Sea grave said something, smiled and sauntered away,
leaving Henry alone.

"My lord, I must speak with you... There is a very urgent matter--'
Polly was amazed to find that she was out of breath, sounding quite
shaken.

"It concerns your sister--' Henry's attention sharpened.  He took her
hands in a strong grasp.

"Concerning Laura?  What is it?  You are shaking, Lady Polly!  What can
be the matter?"

Polly glanced around instinctively.  Most of the guests were
preoccupied with the serious business of eating and drinking, but a few
glances were being cast their way.

"Not here," she said softly.

"I have a letter for you.  It is a delicate matter..."

Henry nodded, offering her his arm.

"Perhaps you will be good enough to show me your father's sculpture
collection before supper.  Lady Polly?  I have heard tell that it is
very fine."

It was dark outside and not secluded enough for a private
conversation.

They re-crossed the courtyard hastily and went in through the long
library doors.  The library was in near darkness, only one branch of
candles throwing its shadowy light over the sculpture which was indeed
accounted very beautiful.  Henry shut the door behind them and Polly
moved to light some more candles.  From a purely practical point of
view.  Henry would hardly be able to decipher his sister's script in
the gloom.  Her hands shook a little as she lit the wavering flame and
turned back to him.

Henry was standing with his back to the door and Polly felt once again
the little leap of her heart that his presence always caused.

"Here."  She took the letter from the bodice of her gown and passed it
over, still warm from the contact with her skin.

"You will be wanting to read it in peace, I am sure, my lord--' But
she was not to get away so easily.

"Just a moment--' Lord Henry said, sounding preoccupied.  He had
already unfolded the missive and scanned its brief contents, but when
he looked up at Polly, his gaze was intent.

"When did Laura give this to you?"

Polly glanced at the clock.

"No more than fifteen minutes ago, my lord."

"Then why does she imagine that I will be reading it several hours
hence?"

He tapped the letter.

"She states quite clearly here that she will have been gone for several
hours, yet you say it is only fifteen minutes!  I could catch them up
quite easily if I chose!"

"Yes."  Polly struggled a little, wishing she had beaten a retreat
sooner, 'that is.  she asked me to give it to you in a little while
but--' She broke off with a slight gesture.

"I thought that you should know at once--' Polly stopped again.  This
was coming out all wrong and Henry was frowning deeply as he watched
her.

"Why?"  he demanded.

"Were you so determined that I should put a stop to this?  I have not
forgotten your aversion to elopements!"

"No!"  Polly was stung.

"It is unfair of you to bring that matter up between us again, my lord!
I wish Lady Laura every good fortune!  But I could not just stand by
with your letter for a few hours and then give it to a servant to pass
to you and pretend that it had not been in my possession all the time!
I just hoped that you would make the right decision--' She broke off. "
Truly, my lord,"

she finished, a little desperately, 'it is best that I leave you to
consider matters."

"No," Henry said firmly, "I do not think so."  He was leaning on Sea
grave's beautiful inlaid walnut desk and was still frowning.

"There is a mystery here which I feel must be unravelled.  Laura gave
you the letter and asked that you give it to me in a few hours' time,
to give them a good head start.  You say that you wish them well and
indeed it must be so, for in here--' he flicked the letter as it lay on
the desk '--she also says that you advised her most kindly to follow
her heart."  The look he gave her was sardonic.  "I cannot believe you
to have indulged in such double-dealing, Lady Polly, that you advise my
sister to elope and then immediately give her away!  Pray, sit down and
explain the matter to me!"

Polly glanced across at the door.  It seemed so much easier just to run
away, except for the conviction that Henry would probably run after her
and bring her back, and cause a scandal in the process.  The deepening
smile on his face suggested that he had guessed her thoughts--all of
them.

She sat down on one of the elegant gilt sofas and tried to marshal her
thoughts.

"It is true that Lady Laura confided in me her feelings for Mr Far
rant,"

she admitted, 'and also that I was aware of the objections of her
family to the match.  You and I have discussed as much!  I do not know
what part your sister has assigned to me in all this, but I freely
admit that my advice to her was that she should do what she thought was
right.  She has more determination than I ever did at her age--she knew
what she wanted and now she has taken it, and I wish her all the luck
in the world in her choice!  " "Then why did you pass me her letter so
swiftly?"  Henry asked.

"You must know that I could stop them if I chose."  He had come round
the desk and taken the chair opposite Polly's, watching her all the
while.

Polly was intensely conscious of his intent gaze resting thoughtfully
on her face.

She prayed that it was too dark for him to read her expression.  This
was the most difficult part.

"I did not wish to deceive you," she said candidly.  "Whilst I wish
your sister success and happiness, it was more important to me that you
should know of her actions and choose for yourself.  If you decide to
go after them I shall be very sorry, but I will still feel that I did
the right thing in entrusting the letter to you now rather than
later."

There was a little silence.  Polly's face was growing hot under that
unrelenting scrutiny.

"A little late in the day to be speaking of trust between us," Henry
said drily.

"You must forgive me.  Lady Polly, if I find it difficult to accept
that you are finally trusting me with information in the belief that I
will do the right thing.  There have been other occasions, arguably
more important, when you did not show any such confidence in me!"

Polly clasped her hands together tightly.

"If you are speaking of my engagement to Mr Dit ton then I can only
concede that you are right, my lord.  However, if we must indulge in
recriminations, allow me to say that you are hardly blameless yourself
Henry smiled slightly.

"Your point.  Lady Polly!  But it is a little different.  I would have
done anything I could to save you from Dit ton."

"Almost anything," Polly said sweetly.

"Let us not rake over the past, my lord, for we shall only quarrel!  It
seems that you cannot forgive me my lack of trust and I resent that you
did not fully confide in me!

 Un trusted and untrustworthy both!  But will you go after your
sister?  " Henry shook his head slowly.

"No, I will not.  I never opposed the match, although I cannot deny
that it will cause a great deal of trouble.  But..."  he sighed 'it is
not my choice to spoil Laura's happiness!  " Polly let out a long,
unsteady breath.

"Oh, thank you!"

"And," Henry added, with the ghost of a smile, 'as long as neither of
us admits that we knew of the elopement only fifteen minutes after it
occurred, we may avoid any censure!  " For a moment they were drawn
into a tenuous alliance.  Polly felt hope and despair stir in equal
measure.  Was this how it was always to be, forever wanting more,
hoping for more, when Henry had made it clear that he could not forgive
her lack of faith in him and she had just demonstrated that she still
blamed him for telling her only half a story?

It seemed heartbreaking.

"I must go," she said, a little uncertainly.

"Mama will be wondering, and I have had no supper..."

Henry stirred a little in his chair.

"I shall bid you farewell then, Lady Polly.  I am returning to London
tomorrow.  Perhaps you will be in Town for the Little Season?"

"Perhaps," Polly echoed dully.  She felt her spirits sink like a
stone.

There would be the Little Season and then the following Season and the
year after, forever in Lord Henry's company, forever set apart from
him, summers in Bright on, or Bath, or Dilling ham, becoming the
spinster aunt, wearing the willow forever.  She swallowed hard.

"Good night, my lord," she said.

Chapter Eighteen qtqtsq i here was a curious air of quiet about
Dilling ham Court the following day.  Both Lucille and the Dowager
Countess stayed in bed resting, but Polly found herself full of a
restless energy that compelled her out of doors.

After breakfast, she took her watercolours down to the lake and sat in
the summerhouse trying to paint, but somehow she could not transfer the
pretty pastoral scene onto her paper and tore up her efforts in a fit
of temper.  It seemed that she would not find solace for her broken
heart through her painting.

The lake was very calm under the blue sky of early autumn, but the air
was warm and the sky was heavy with gathering rain.  The light was
interesting and Polly was frustrated that she could not convey it onto
paper.  She put down her brush and leant her elbows on the railing,
watching the distant clouds roll towards her.  With a sigh, she pushed
her paints to one side.  A quiet walk was almost always enjoyable,
although she would have to be careful that she did not get caught in
the rain.

She took the path that skirted the lake, walking slowly down towards
the River De ben.  The breeze whispered softly in the grass and stirred
the leaves on the trees.  It seemed almost unnaturally quiet.  The
river was running quickly, little eddies pushing at the muddy bank and
lapping at the soles of Polly's shoes.  She could see the roof of the
fishing-house a little further downstream, and wandered towards it.

The skies opened almost as suddenly as they had done that day at
Shingle Street, and the rain began in a steady downpour.  By the time
Polly reached the fishing- house, she was drenched and hurried towards
the shelter it provided.  The door swung open with one touch of her
hand and, as before, she stepped into the dim interior.

Unlike the last time, the pool was empty.  The mermen and mermaids
watched her with blank eyes.  There was total silence.  Polly paused. A
completely insane idea took hold of her.  She had gone sea bathing with
the Dowager Countess at Bright on the previous summer and had enjoyed
the fresh sensation of the cool water.  Of course, the pool was not
like the sea, but it would be most refreshing and she was already
soaked through.

Without further thought, she stripped off her dress and, wearing only
her chemise, eased herself into the plunge pool.  The chill of the
water made her gasp, but once she had become accustomed to it, it was
immensely invigorating.  Closing her eyes, she floated on her back,
listening to the drumming of the rain on the wooden roof above her head
and enjoying the curious sensation of being immersed in water whilst it
poured down outside.

She could feel her hair floating free of its pins and almost laughed
aloud.

How delightful to feel so free from inhibition, to indulge herself,
relish the sensation.  She was almost happy.

She opened her eyes, gasped, swallowed what felt like a gallon of water
and almost choked.  Through streaming eyes she could quite clearly make
out the laughing face of Lord Henry March night as he stood beside the
pool looking down at her.  As she struggled to regain her breath, he
crouched down by the pool's edge and caught one of her arms, holding
her above water.

"Dear me.  Lady Polly," Lord Henry said mildly, 'just when I thought it
impossible that you could surprise me, I find myself being utterly
astounded!

" To Polly's relief.  Lord Henry behaved with perfect chivalry.  He
made no comment about her state of undress but found her a huge, soft
blanket to wrap about her and cover her modesty.  Then he almost undid
all his good work.

"You will find me an adequate lady's maid, I am sure," he said with a
grin.

"I have had some practice at such things!"

The colour flooded Polly's cheeks and she pulled the blanket closer.

"I am in no doubt as to that!"  she said tartly.

Henry was still grinning unrepentantly as his gaze took in her tousled
hair and pink face.

"You look utterly delightful.  Lady Polly!  Perhaps you would care to
join me on the balcony whilst you dry off?"

Before Polly had chance to demur and effect a discreet withdrawal, he
had scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the ladder and out on
to the balcony.  There was another blanket and a couple of cushions on
the bare boards and the remains of what looked like Henry's breakfast.
For a long time they sat together under the shelter of the eaves,
watching the rain upon the river.  Neither of them spoke.  Polly was
possessed by the most extraordinary feeling of peacefulness and did not
wish to break the spell.

Eventually the rain retreated and the first streaks of pale blue sky
appeared again.  She stirred.

"Whatever are you doing here, Harry?  I thought that you had gone..."

Henry gestured towards the rod and line lying discarded on the edge of
the balcony.

"I was fishing:-- until you came to disturb the peace of my retreat!"
He hesitated.

"Truth to tell, I was thinking..."  He shot Polly a glance.

"I was coming to see you later, but you have beaten me to it."

The sun came out suddenly, swirling across the dark river water and
dazzling them.

Polly suddenly found that she could not meet his eyes.

"What were you coming to discuss with me?"  she asked shyly, tracing a
pattern in the dust with one finger.

"I thought--last night you intimated that there was nothing more to
say."

Henry shifted a little, leaning back against the wall.  "Yes, that was
wicked of me.  I could no more lose you now than I could cut out a part
of myself.

Please--' suddenly there was raw feeling in his voice '--tell me that
we may put all the misunderstanding and misery behind us and that you
will marry me."

At last Polly was able to look at him, but with astonishment rather
than anything else.

"But I haven't had chance to explain why I did not tell you--' she
began.

"I don't need explanations."  Henry took her hand in his and drew her
closer.

"I knew last night that you trusted me enough for me to be the first
one you came to with a secret.  That is enough for me.  I know that you
must love me as much as I love you."

"Harry--' Polly's voice broke.

"I believe you are almost too forgiving..."

His strained face broke into a smile.

"Do you feel that I should castigate you for the business with Tristan
Dit ton?  I had felt that we had grown closer over the past few months
and the business with Dit ton did set me back."  He grimaced.

"I did not understand-- still do not, to tell the truth--why you could
not confide in me.  You must have known that I would not have shamed
Miss Mark ham by making the knowledge public, and yet you did not trust
me--' The pain in his voice caused Polly to look up at last.

"I wanted to tell you," she said hesitantly.

"That night at the assembly, I was on the verge of telling when Tristan
came in and put a stop to our conversation.  I know I should have
trusted you more--all those times I doubted you, the foolishness over
the smuggling, my suspicions over your activities in London--you must
think me so stupid!"  Her voice broke.  "I don't know why I could not
commit myself, Harry... I was so close to trusting you, yet I always
held back, perhaps because I have loved you for so long that I could
not bear to take the final risk and gamble on losing it all!  I found
it very difficult to forgive myself for refusing you all those years
ago!"

Henry slid an arm around her and pulled her to him so that her head
rested comfortingly against his shoulder.

"I must take my share of blame," he said, very softly.

"I fostered the impression of a wastrel and a rake, which is scarcely
the kind of behaviour that would encourage a gently bred girl to rely
on me!  I could have warned you about Dit ton--I knew you would not
tell anyone, but I was afraid that you would not be able to behave
naturally in his company if you knew he was a criminal.  If I had to
take the same decision now, I would have to do the same..."

"I know," Polly said softly.  Henry looked so wretched that she touched
his cheek.

"You did the right thing.  When I was thinking about it all last night,
I remembered how you had risked the whole endeavour to save me in the
riot in London.  You must have cared a great deal to do that for
me..."

They sat quietly for a long time.  Henry's arm warm about her, his
cheek rough against the smoothness of hers.

"Polly," Henry said at last, his voice muffled against her hair, 'you
have not yet agreed to marry me!  " "Oh!"  Polly turned to him and
their lips met with a tenderness that was both sweet and instinctive.

"I assume," Henry said, much later, 'that that is an acceptance.  I
should not allow another rejection anyway!  " Polly snuggled closer to
him.

"How much time we have wasted!  When may we be married.  Harry?"

"In the interests of making up for lost time," Henry said seriously,

"I

suggest the wedding should be very soon.  Tomorrow, perhaps?  " Polly
sat up and stared at him in confusion.

"Tomorrow?  But how--' " I thought, perhaps, that you might be
persuaded to elope with me.  " Polly looked at him for a long time.

"You mean-- to come away with you now?"  she asked, a little
breathlessly.

"But--' She saw the faint look of withdrawal that came into his
eyes.

"I

understand if you do not wish to do so--' "No!"  Polly put out a hand
quickly and touched his.  It was suddenly essential to make him
understand.  "Henry, listen.  I will gladly go with you.  I would
follow you anywhere, or do anything you asked."  The tears gathered in
her eyes.

"Oh, I am so very happy to have the chance to run away with you!"

Suddenly they were both laughing like children, tumbled back once more
in each other's arms.

"I had not intended to go to Gretna," Henry said after more kisses had
been exchanged, 'but my home at Ruth ford is but a day's journey from
here, and I have a special licence and a priest who would be very happy
to marry off another of the March night brood!  Indeed, I imagine he
would be particularly glad to officiate at my wedding since he has been
deploring my bachelor life this age!  " Polly stood up.

"I had best return to the Court and gather my belongings.

Oh!  " She looked down at the blanket still clutched about her.

"I had forgotten--my dress is still by the pool!  I can hardly return
to the house like this or we would have to be married even sooner to
avoid Mama falling into the va pours!"  She looked suddenly shy.

"Will you help me down the steps.  Harry?"

Henry got to his feet.

"Of course--but take care that the blanket does not slip!"

He tactfully stepped outside whilst Polly was donning her dress again,
and gave her a critical look-over when she emerged into the sunshine.

"Not bad, although I do not think it would stand the scrutiny of a
discerning eye!  You could always tell them the truth, of course!"

 Polly came close to him.

"I should like to be able to tell Lucille and Nicholas where I am
going," she said, a little hesitantly.

"I know it seems strange, but..."

Henry gave her a brief kiss.

"If you wish to do so, let it be so.  I am confident they will not stop
us."

Polly had one last question.

"Henry..."  She did not quite raise her gaze to his.

"If'we are to be married tomorrow, what happens tonight?"

When she finally looked up into his face it was to see a mixture of
amusement and speculation that made her blush all over again.

"What do you think?"  he said.

It was just over an hour later that the Earl of Sea- grave, striding in
at the door of Dilling ham Court, was distracted by the sound of his
own mother in strong hysterics.  Hastening into the drawing-room, he
found the Dowager prostrate on the sofa and Lucille hovering with a
bottle of smelling salts whilst the Dowager's maid tried ineffectually
to calm her mistress and Peter and Hetty stood helplessly by.

"Nicholas!"  the Dowager Countess said, immediately sitting up and
recovering at the sight of her elder son, "Do something!  Your sister
is eloping with Lord Henry March night!  I have seen them with my own
eyes--the carriage has been gone but five minutes!"

Nicholas Sea grave strolled over to the table and poured himself a
glass of wine.

"But, Mama, I thought that you liked Lord Henry!  You have been forever
praising him these months past!"

There was a snort of laughter from Lucille, quickly suppressed.  Peter
bit his lip and Hetty turned a smile into a sort of cough.

 The Dowager looked outraged.

"Like him!  Of course I like him!  He is precisely the sort of man I
would wish to marry Polly!  But what is that to the purpose, pray?  She
is to be married at St.  George's, Hanover Square!

I have it all planned!  " The Dowager wrung her hands.

"The foolish chit told me that they were mnning away together, and when
I told her that there was not the least need to do so, she told me that
there was every need!  I have no notion what she meant!"

Nicholas's eyes met Lucille's and they exchanged a smile of
complicity.

"Do something, Nicholas!"  the Dowager besought again.

Nicholas crossed to his wife's side and took her hand.

"But Mama, there is nothing more I can do!  I had already met them at
the gates and offered them the use of my travelling carriage!  Harry
assured me that they should make Ruth ford late tonight and are to be
married in the morning!"

The Dowager Countess gave a muffled squeak.  "Tonight!  But Polly is
unchaperoned!  Even if they are to be married tomorrow, what is to
happen tonight?"

There was a brief silence.  Peter and Hetty studiously avoided each
other's gaze.  Nicholas Sea grave raised his eyebrows.

"What do you think?"  he said.

It was early evening when they reached Ruth ford.  Polly had fallen
asleep on the journey, her head resting on Henry's shoulder, and awoke
just as the carriage pulled up in front of the house.  She had a
confused impression of mellow stone and part-timbering before Henry
ushered her up the steps and into the hall, handing her over to his
housekeeper, Mrs Owen, to show her to her room.  They ate alone in a
small but tastefully appointed dining-room and, after the meal, took a
turn along the terrace as dusk was falling.  Away to the west the
clouds were building and Polly shivered at the sound of distant
thunder.

"I have spoken to Father Beck ham and he is very happy to marry us in
the morning," Henry said conversationally.

"You are very quiet, Polly.  I hope..."  he took Polly's cold hand in
his warm one 'that it is not a sign that you have changed your mind!  "
The warmth of his touch helped to reassure Polly.  "It is just that it
seems so strange," she said excusingly, 'and so unexpected, for all
that I have been wanting to marry you these five years past!  And
suddenly we are alone.

" "Yes."  Henry tucked her hand comfortingly through his arm.

"It is bound to seem a little strange at first.  Perhaps we should
retire to the drawing-room and I shall read my paper and you may essay
a little needlepoint, and we shall be like any old married couple!"

Polly laughed.

"I had no idea that marriage to you would be such a dull affair, my
lord!

Perhaps I should change my mind--' " Too late," Henry said
cheerfully.

"You are compromised beyond redemption, I fear, and..."  he drew her
closer 'should there be any doubt I should be happy to confirm that I
had seduced you thoroughly!  " "I wonder how Hetty and Peter ever came
to--,?"  Polly broke off, blushing rosily.

"Well, no doubt I should not speculate..."

"Were you shocked when the truth came out?"

Polly considered.

"Not shocked, precisely, at least not at what they had done.  It
was... understandable.  But I was surprised and perhaps a little--' "
Envious?  " Henry's grey eyes held a spark of mischief.

"A pity then, that we are to be so respectably married on the
morrow!"

"There is always tonight," Polly said, casting him a look under her
lashes.

Their eyes met in a long moment of tension, then Henry shook his head
reluctantly.

"For once in my life I am determined to behave in an honourable
fashion!"

he said.

It did not seem, however, that Henry's scruples prevented him from
kissing Polly goodnight in the most thorough way imaginable.  They made
slow progress back inside and up the wide wooden staircase, entwined as
they were in each other's arms.  They stopped again outside Polly's
bedroom door.

"What marvellously discreet servants you have, Harry," Polly
observed.

"No doubt they are accustomed to melting away as soon as you appear
with a lady who is not your wife!"

"Minx!"  Henry pulled her into his arms.

"They are all well aware that tomorrow you will become Lady Polly March
night!"

He kissed her gently, lovingly.  It was not what Polly wanted.  She
parted her lips beneath his, rejoicing as she felt the kiss turn from
sweetness to sensual demand.  Henry, that notorious rake, had exercised
endless self-control in his dealings with her and she was determined to
make him lose his restraint.

"I protest," she said against his lips, 'that your reputation is
undeserved.

Harry!  You are no rake--' In reply, he turned his mouth back to hers
driving out all thought with the explosive demand of his lips and his
hands.  When he finally let her go, Polly had to lean back against the
door frame to steady herself.  Henry stood back very deliberately.

"Enough!  I must go--' Polly had her hand on the doorknob and the door
was already half-open.  As Henry turned away she said, very softly,
"Henry, I am afraid of the thunder.  Don't leave me..."

She saw him hesitate, and smile, before he took her arm, drew her
through the doorway, and closed the door very firmly behind them.

Neither of them heard the thunderstorm that raged about the house,
being too concerned with the storm within.  At some point during the
night, when the thunder had died away.  Henry stirred and raised
himself on one elbow.

"The storm has gone," he said softly.

"Would you wish me away, madam, now that you need be afraid no
longer?"

Polly could hear the smile in his voice.  She reached out to pull him
to her.

"I have not mentioned it before, my love, but I am afraid of the dark.
I fear you must stay with me until the morning!"

In the light of the new day, Polly woke again and spoke drowsily.

"Henry?  Do you still wish to marry me?"

Henry leant across to kiss her.

"More than ever now, my love!  Who would have thought that marriage
would promise to be so enjoyable!"

Polly glanced across at the clock.  Somehow they had never managed to
draw the bed curtains.

"At what hour is the wedding?"

 "At ten o'clock, the earliest that I thought that we could
respectably arrange it..."  Henry's kisses were becoming more
persuasive, more determined.  Polly pushed him away.

"That would be the ten o'clock that was a half hour ago?"

Henry sat bolt upright.

"Good God!  It cannot be ten-thirty already?"  He put his head in his
hands.

"How could I miss my own wedding as a result of being in bed with my
future wife?  Father Beck ham will be saying prayers for my immortal
soul!"

Polly leant across to give him a consoling kiss.

"I am persuaded that he knows you so well, Harry, that he would expect
no less of you!"  she said.

is * * * *

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