Playing to win
by
Laurel Ames


Although Laurel Ames likes to write stories set in the early
nineteenth century, she writes from personal experience.  She and her
husband live on a farm, complete with five horses, a long spring house,
carriage house and a smokehouse made of bricks kilned on the farm.

Recent titles by the same author:

TELLER OF TALES

PLAYING TO WIN

Laurel Ames

MILLS & BOON

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are pure invention.

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First published in Great Britain 1997

Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,

Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 I SR

Barbara J. Miller 1995

ISBN 0 263 80083 0

Set in Times Roman 10 1/2 on 11 pt.

04-9704-87729 C1

Printed and bound in Great Britain by BPC Paperbacks Limited,
Aylesbury

Chapter One

London--September 1815

A low fog crept across the clearing, shrouding both men and horses from
the knees down.  The jingle of harness, and a snort, seemed overloud in
the dark stillness.  Tony Cairn-brooke's seconds conferred with Lord
Vonne's men over the pistols.  The horses steamed gently.  It was damp
and cold for this time of year.

"He's agreed to twenty paces, Tony.  One shot each."  Tony's cousin
Winwood looked serious for once.

"Is it light enough yet?"  Tony asked numbly, his only concern at this
point to get the affair over with.  Dueling was so stupid.

"Give it another few minutes," said Win, scanning the eastern
horizon.

"What did Vonne say when you conveyed my apologies to him?"  Tony asked
tiredly.

"Tony, you made love to his wife.  You can't just apologize and expect
that to be an end to it."

"I know," said Tony, shaking his head, "but I was drunk-- Drunk!  I
must have been insane."  The only hatless man present, Tony ran an
impatient hand through his damp brown hair.

"You can best Vonne.  I've seen you shoot.  You are sober now, aren't
you?"  Winwood asked, in some concern.  "Very!"

Winwood left Tony alone and went to talk in whispers to the few other
men clustered under the dripping trees.  The rain had stopped and Tony
thought that once the fog lifted it might be a fine day... for someone
else.  It was amazing how fast the sky lightened, and one could say it
was now daylight, rather than night, even without a sunrise.

Lord Vonne Paced idly, as though this were an everyday matter to him.
Indeed, it nearly was.  He had fought three other men in the short time
he had been married to Madeleine.  His black goatee and mustache looked
particularly sinister in the dim light.

Vonne caught Tony looking at him, and nodded in a 'businesslike way.
Tony went to stand back-to-back with him.  The count went quickly as
the two men strode away from each other.  But Tony needed no time to
decide what to do.  He had considered it all night.

When it was time, he turned, brought the pistol up deliberately beside
his head and fired into the air.  He was, after all, in the wrong.

Vonne waited, as though he had half expected this.  He slowly took aim
and fired.  Tony did no more than sway for a moment, as though he had
lost his footing.  There was something warm below his collarbone.
Strange that it should feel only as though someone had run into him. It
was not what he had been expecting.  There was an unpleasant roaring in
his ears that would have blotted out all talk, if there had been any. 
Then he couldn't see.

They all stood motionless, watching him.  It seemed a long time.  When
he tried to take a step, he went down on his knees.

"He's hit!"  yelled Winwood, and ran' to catch Tony as he fell
forward.

The sun was streaming into the Barclay drawing room after a night of
rain and morning of dreary clouds.

"I hear that young Cairnbrooke has been shot," Lady Jane Stanley said
to her young protegee Serafina Barclay.

"What a pity.  I hope he survives," said Sere, turning her attention
from the sunshine to Lady Jane.

Her hazel eyes were quite lovely, Lady Jane thought.  The child's nose
could be straighter, but she had a good figure and lovely hair, a
delicate brown touched with auburn.  All things considered, the nose
was not all that noticeable.

"Why are you staring at me?"  Sera asked, laughing at her older
friend's myopic regard.  Lady Jane always reminded Sera of an
inquisitive bird, especially because of the way the ringlets of hair
danced above her ears when she cocked her head.

"You know him?"

"I've met him ... at an assembly.  He hardly gave me a second glance,
of course.  He had eyes only for Lady.  Vonne."

"But, my dear, that is the woman he was shot over."  "She seems such a
cruel woman.  You would think men would be smart enough to see through
her.  If she has a dozen lovers, she can't possibly care about all of
them."

"Men may be smart where money is concerned and quite dense in other
matters."  Lady Jane clapped her teacup down in its saucer decisively,
causing Sera to look up in inquiry.

"One really feels for such a misguided boy."

"He's not a boy.  He should have known better," Sera said.

"Men do lose their heads sometimes, but I imagine Vonne's bullet has
driven all thoughts of Lady Vonne from Cairnbrooke's head."

"Will Vonne be prosecuted?"  Sera asked as she tried to shake the
mental image of Tony Cairnbrooke meeting with a bullet.

"I suppose that is what he is waiting about to find out.

He's sent his wife out of town, though.  No one knows where."

Sera chuckled.  "How do you find out all this gossip?"  "I have a great
many friends, dear, and I pay many calls.  I am invited everywhere.
That is why your father enlisted my aid in bringing you into the
ton."

"Yes, I know," said Sera, with a sigh and a raised eye brow.  "Vonne is
a victim, too, then."  "What did you think of him?"  "Vonne?  I've only
seen him--"

"No, silly, young Cairnbrooke," Lady Jane said impatiently.

"He's handsome enough, with the most compelling blue eyes.  Although
last time I saw him--at the theater--he looked almost ... tortured."

"I suspect that is over losing his brother.  At least that is what his
mother says."  "Belgium?"  "Yes."

"I didn't know.  Are you one of her intimates?  Please convey my
sympathies."

"Would you like to call on her with me, tomorrow?"  "They can scarcely
want morning callers," Sera reasoned, "with one son dead and the
other... perhaps-- What are you up to?"  demanded Sera, suddenly
suspicious, "You are plotting something.  I can always tell."

"Perhaps a call would seem a bit forward," Lady jane mused as she paced
the floor, back and forth, in and out of the bars of sunlight, until
she had Sera entranced.  "But to invite them here to dine would be
perfectly acceptable."  "Who?"  Sera demanded, snapping back to
attention.

"The Cairnbrookes, of course, and Anthony.  Haven't you been
listening?"

"Ah, I see.  Another victim."

"A prospective husband should not be referred to by a young lady past
twenty as a victim."

"I recommend you not make any plans yet," said Sera, putting down her
cup.

"Why not?  You are not averse to him?"

"You don't even know if the poor fellow will survive."  "There is no
reason to be so cold-blooded about it."  "I'm a realist, Lady Jane.
Besides, if this Anthony has so lately been enthralled enough with Lady
Vonne as to die for her love.  he is hardly likely to express an
interest in me, no matter how much money Father has."

"Don't be so mercenary.  It won't be a question of money, in his
case."

Sera shrugged and poured herself more tea.  The daughter of a banker,
Sera was rather thick-skinned when it came to men.  She had been
courted so often these past three years for her father's fortune, she
had ceased to place much faith in any men, except those, such as her
father's friends, who were too old for her.

The most sickening feeling was that men pretended to like her.  She
could wish she was not acute enough to detect this, but it would be
worse to be married to someone who lied in such an insidious way.
Eventually she got rid of them, but it was not always easy, In
Cairnbrooke's case she did not look forward to the experience because
she had a feeling she could like him.

The next day threatened rain, so Sera passed up 'her morning ride to
pick up some items Marie, her French dresser, assured her were
essential to her wardrobe.  Marie was invaluable in this way.  She took
all the work out of dressing for society.  She scouted the fashionable
shops for just what would suit Sera.

"Mademoiselle has but to try it on to discover that it is perfect,"
Marie said in the carriage.

This was almost always the case.  Sera admitted to herself that she had
no turn for fashion.  When complimented on her elegant attire, she
merely thanked people and took all the credit for Marie's talents.
Clothes scarcely concerned her, unless they were costumes for one of
her beloved plays.  Her father had interested her in the theater at a
young age, going so far as to invite Armand Travesian, actor turned
theater owner, into his circle of fiends.  Sera had been his devotee
ever since, had had more than a hand in this season's production, Lady
Mellefieur's Boudoir, and was even now putting the finishing touches on
the script for next season.  She was still mulling over the proper cos
turning for The Count Recounts when they arrived at the shop.

Today it was a hat to go with her pearl gray riding habit, just such a
small one as she wanted, close-fitting, with a point dipping gently
over the brow, and with a plume not large enough to carry the thing off
her head when she cantered in the park.

They purchased the hat and, upon inquiring after antique clothes,
ostensibly for a masquerade, got Madame Lupy to admit that her
predecessor had left a number of wigs in a trunk, with a bail gown made
thirty years before but never so much as worn.  Marie was careful not
to exclaim too loudly over the find.  Sera bought the lot and had it
loaded into the carriage immediately.

"We'll stop at the theater on the way home.  Armand should be
rehearsing actors for The Count."

Sera's coachman and footman thought nothing of delivering a trunk full
of clothes to the Agora Theater.  Only Made knew that Sera's
involvement with Armand Travesian and his theater was less than
respectable.  But then, Sera had so little fun.  In Marie's opinion, it
did no harm.

The Agora, on Stanhope Street, was not a new theater, but it was newly
refurbished and renamed, thanks to Sera.  It was tail and narrow, with
two tiers of boxes between the pit and the balcony seats.  The gold
damask hangings between the boxes, and the newly recovered chairs,
echoed the richness of the gilt scrollwork.  Perhaps it was all paint
and illusion, Sera thought as she made her way toward the stage, but
the theater fairly glittered by candlelight.

The building gave up a fourth of its precious ground to the front
portico and anteroom, above which were Travesi-an's office and living
apartment.  There was no backstage to speak off Behind the last scenery
backdrop was the wall fronting on the next street.  All the dressing
rooms, and the prop room, were located in the rabbit warren under the
raised stage.

Seating four hundred, it was not the smallest theater in the area by
any means, but Travesian had frequently to fall back on Sera's
resources for costumes and even salaries when they had not enough
patronage.  That was mostly a matter of the past now.  Since the
opening of Lady Mellefieur's Boudoir, the Agora had been paying its own
way.

"We have to take out the sword fight," Travesian complained to her in
front of the two men who had been practicing on the stage.

"But the fight carries the scene.  How can we do without it?"

"I cannot find an actor who can fence."

"Nonsense.  You can fence."

"I'm too large for the role of De Vies.  You could play it better than
I could, Now there's a thought .... "

"Don't be absurd.  I have to prompt the actors.  I can't do everything
myself"

"I was joking," Armand said, with his expansive smile.

"Sometimes it's hard to tell," Sera said petulantly.  "What about a
fencing master who can act?"

"Who do you think they are?"  Armand pointed to the men on the stage,
who shrugged and waited.

"The villain hasn't many lines.  Hire an actor for the count, and a
fencing master for the villain, to make the count look good."

"I suppose it's worth a try.  You two, wait here for me.  Come back to
the dressing rooms, Sera.  There's someone I want you to meet."  He led
her to the cramped dressing rooms under the stage, which always seemed
to her like the cabins on a sailing ship.

' A handsome young man with hazel eyes looked up from a script he was
studying.

"Count DeVries!"  Sera said.

"If you think so, then we had better hire him."

"Albert Brel," said the man, with the faintest trace of an accent.

"This is Miss Serafina Barclay, one of my ... patrons, but that is to
be kept in the strictest confidence."

"Of course," said Brel, seeming surprised to be trusted with.  this
secret.

"I'm pleased to meet you."  Sera seated herself and listened to Brel
read a scene.  He needed some work, but the script was new to him, and
he would sound ever so much better onstage, rather than in the cramped
dressing room.  Sera approved Travesian's choice on the spot and went
contentedly home, feeling the morning had been well spent.

"And what are you studying today, child?"  Barclay asked as he entered
his library.  The foolishly fond smile that he reserved for his only
child masked an acute business mind, but matched his lack of adroitness
when it came to women.

"Just the papers.  Not much going on just now.  Shall we go out to Gott
Farm for a week?"

"I must have been neglecting you, if you are that bored with town."
Barclay pulled his waistcoat down over his slight paunch, and Sera
smiled at this new habit of her father's.

"I am never bored."

"But you scarcely go out, except to the libraries or galleries."

"Nonsense.  I go to the theater several times a week."  "Always to the
Agora--the same play."

"Travesian does it so nicely, though--I never tire of it.

Wait until he tells you about next season's production," she teased. "I
have asked him to dine with us Sunday."  "I'm almost sorry I ever
invited him here."  "That's not true.  You find him entertaining, too."
"As Henry VIII, not always as a dinner guest."  "but he can enliven the
dullest party."

"Precisely!"  Her father began pacing, hands behind his back.  "You
should not be throwing dull dinner parties for me.  You should be going
to balls and routs and' whatever those other things are."  He fluttered
an impatient hand.  "You should be meeting people your own age."

"But I do go to balls and parties with Lady Jane, and I meet a great
many people my own age."

"You do?"

"You know it is insulting of you to be so transparent, Father, dear.
You are leading up to something.  I can tell.  And it must be
disagreeable, or you wouldn't be at it so long."

"I do underestimate you.  I hope what I have in mind will not be
disagreeable.  A dinner party for some friends of mine."

"Well, why didn't you say so?  You know I love to entertain your
friends.  Who is it?  Mr.  Southey, or Lord Grenville perhaps?"

"No ... no, I don't think that would do," Barclay said after a moment's
thought.  "Why did you--?"

"There are one or two questions I would like to ask them."

"I thought so.  Just such a dull evening as I have been complaining of.
No, this will be Lord and Lady Cairn-brooke--and their son, Anthony, to
make up even numbers.  Lady Jane will be here."

"Oh."  Sera feigned surprise.  "Who else?"

"No one else," her father said innocently.

"Perhaps I will ask Armand," she teased, then took pity on him when she
saw his terrified look.  "Come now, Father let us leave off with this
jousting.  This is one of Lady Jane's arrangements, isn't it?"

"Well, she did suggest the meeting--and the whole point of her taking
you about is to find you a suitable husband."

"Yes, I know, and poor Cairnbrooke is probably still' so weak from his
wound he can't evade the trap."

"I'm quite sure he comes willingly."

"Which is why his parents are bringing him, his mother for moral
support, while his father holds the gun to his head."

"It is not like that at all, I assure you."

Sera sent him one of her penetrating looks.

"All right, I suppose that is a pretty accurate picture, but do you
mind so much?"

Sera chuckled.  "You are incorrigible.  Is there nothing you won't do
to get rid of me?"

"This time it will be different.  He's not marrying for money, but to
put a stop to all this talk about him and the Vonnes.  It is an
excellent family.  You will have a title.  I have spoken to his father
that is..."  Barclay had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Just how far have the arrangements gone?"

"What do you mean?  The details of the meal I--"

"I mean, have you only drafted the marriage settlements, or has his
mother already written the announcement for The Post?"

"Well," he said with a paternal smile, "the first is pretty well taken
care of, not the second--not to my knowledge, anyway."

"I suppose I have to marry someday.  I just always assumed it would be
another dull banker or lawyer, not such a romantic figure as
Cairnbrooke."

"You're making fun of him.  You always make fun of the ton."

"Well, they do such stupid things sometimes, and other than supporting
playwrights and artists, I'm not sure what use some of them are.
Although they do sometimes surprise me."

"You will find Lord Cairnbrooke to be a man of excellent good sense."

"I'm sure, which is why he wants to rid himself of a troublesome son
almost as much as you want rid of me."

"The truth of the matter is, they want to put an end to the talk as
soon as may be."

"Before he is well enough to be bothersome again, you mean?"

"They feel marriage, especially with a sensible girl, will settle him
down, give him responsibilities, an interest in life."  Barclay resumed
his methOdical pacing.

"But what if he doesn't care for me?"

"I can't see why he wouldn't.  You are pretty enough.  No one would
know to look at you how bookish you are."  "Why, thank you," Sera said,
with a prim smile.  "Well, you know what I mean."

Sera laughed her rich laugh.  "Very well.  I will do it for Lady
Jane."

"I don't understand."  Her father stopped in front of the desk.

"It's been obvious to me for some time that she will never marry you
until I am settled.  She is afraid of interfering fn your household."

"You little fox.  I should have known we could not keep that from you."
He lifted her chin up with a finger.  "So I

will go from one cat's paw to another.  Just as you like."  "What night
shall I invite them for?"

"Saturday next--but I've already taken care of that."  "Father!  What
if I had refused?"

"I knew I could rely on your goOd judgment.  You have never failed
me."

Sera tried to go back to her perusal of The Times after her father left
her, but she found her thoughts interrupted by the memory of a pair of
laughing blue eyes that looked like they were lit from within.  She
knew an uneasy sympathy for this Tony, since she had an inkling of what
had driven him to such stupid extremes, but she did not think it would
work.  If it came to making a push to fascinate him, she Could not.
Such artifices would cause her to laugh at herself the way she
sometimes laughed at other women.

"Would you like to look over this draft of the marriage settlements?
Quite handsome of Barclay, I assure you, but he can afford it."  Lord
Cairnbrooke polished off his brandy and raised the paper to close
scrutiny again as he sat with Tony in his dim study.

"No, I'm sure they're fine.  You are good at that sort of thing,
Father," Tony said in a lackluster way from the other armchair.

Lord Cairnbrooke eyed him suspiciously, but could detect no insult in
the remark.  He smiled and rubbed his hands together.  "Where is your
mother?"  he demanded rhetorically.  "Amanda!"  he shouted, without
leaving the room or even getting up.  "We are going to be late!"

Tony winced and leaned his head back on the chair pillow.

"Here, drink this," his father commanded, putting a glass of brandy in
his hand.  "No one will expect you to make her an offer tonight. Simply
get acquainted, and make yourself pleasing to her.  I have no doubts on
that score.  If the girl proves impossible, of course, we can still bow
out of it."

"Oh, she's not impossible.  In fact, she's a good deal more respectable
than any of us.  If anything, she may be too straitlaced to suit
you."

"Good Lord--not a bluestocking, I hope."

"No ... no," Tony mused, trying to call up Serafina's face.  "I
remember she has quite a nice smile, when she can spare it, and the
loveliest hair."

"I didn't know you were even acquainted with her.  That is well done of
you."

"Unfortunately, she has most likely seen me make a fool of myself on
more than one occasion, so that is no advantage to me."

"Don't let it prey on your mind-- Amanda!"  Lord Cairnbrooke shouted
again, without even turning his head..

Tony jumped, and the door opened to admit a footman.  "Lady Cairnbrooke
has been waiting in the carriage, sir."

"Just like her not to tell us."  Cairnbrooke solicitously helped his
son out of the chair, but drew a grunt of surprise from him by clapping
him on the shoulder.

Tony was looking very handsome, Sera thought, in spite of a slight
pallor and his arm still being in a sling.  The dinner was excellent;
the conversation was a compromise.  Not for the' first time in her
career as a hostess, Sera had to bridge the gaps between guests with
divergent interests.  Her father would have talked of nothing but
finance, Lord Cairnbrooke of nothing but horses and the hunt.  In
politics they might have found 'common ground, but she decided not to
risk it.  Besides, that would let out Lady Amanaa and Lady Jane, and
poor Tony, who seemed to have scant interest in anything.  Small
wonder.  He looked to be turning a little feverish, and it took all his
effort to eat one-handed without a disaster.

Under his father's menacing scrutiny, Tony made one sally at polite
conversation and then subsided.

"Is that Belgium lace, my dear?"  Lady Amanda asked.

"Yes, it's very nearly the only thing I brought back with me," Sera
answered.

"You were in Belgium?  When?"  Tony asked, with a spark of interest.

"In the spring," Sera said hesitantly, not wanting to remind him.  "We
thought it was Safe to take a house there for the season.  I had no
idea it would get so exciting."

"I should never have left you there just to come back and tend to
business," Barclay said with regret.

"But I chose to stay.  None of us took Napoleon very seriously then."

"You were trapped there, during the battle?"  Tony asked eagerly.

"No.  I suppose I could have left at any time, but I did not want to.
The suspense was terrible.  I wanted to know the worst as soon as
possible.  Fortunately, we won, but--" "The cost was dear," Tony said,
looking away.

"Yes, my maid was scandalized when I tipped up my muslin dresses for
bandages," she said lightly, trying to divert his thoughts from his
brother.

"You what?"  asked Lady Amanda and Lady Jane in unison.

"We couldn't sacrifice the sheets.  We needed those for the wounded."

"But you mean they carried wounded into our house?"  sputtered her
father.

"No, we carried them in, Marie and I. They were lying on every doorstep
in Brussels.  Not the most hard-bear ted person could have shut the
door on them.  I must say, I never thought much of the ladles of the
ton before that day, but I did not see one of them, not the most
delicate beauty, refuse to help with the wounded.  I was touched with
admiration for them, and for the soldiers."

"I had no idea," said her father, appalled.  "How long did this go
on?"

"A few weeks, I think.  We were so busy, I don't perfectly remember."

"I should have brought you home with me."

"No, I'm glad I stayed."

Tony gave her a heart-wrenching smile.  It was not as though she had
done anything for his brother.  But he liked her for staying, all the
same.

Lady Jane cleared her throat.  Sera tore her eyes away from Tony and
said, "Ladies, shall we go in to the drawing room?"

Lady Jane invited Lady Amanda upstairs to freshen up, and in the same
sentence recommended Tony to go in and see Sera's sketches of America.
The attempt to throw them together was so blatant as to be
embarrassing, but they both pretended not to notice, and Sera led Tony
into the drawing room.  She picked up a candelabra and carried it to
one wall.

"Here they are."

"What?"

"The watercolors.  You'd better at least be able to say you looked at
them, but don't feel compelled to compliment them.  It was my father's
vanity that had them framed, not mine."

"But they are remarkably good!"  said Tony, in genuine surprise.

"Far better than you expected, in other words," she taunted.

He laughed.  "If you read minds, then you know why I am here."

"By now I expect the kitchen maids know why you are here.  My father
wants to be rid of me so he can marry Lady Jane."

"My father also wants to be rid of me," he said darkly.  "Then we have
something in common after all."  "Would you dislike it excessively to
be married to me?"

"Why, I think I could like it quite well, but I have a confession to
make first."

"You?"

"It's only that I'm hopelessly bookish," she said sadly, putting down
the candles and seating herself on a sofa.  "I have even been known, in
the dark of night, to sit writing poetry."

"Is that all?  I suppose I had better tell you the worst about myself."
He sat on the edge of the sofa.

"There's no need."

"You mean you have heard all about me already."  "Just what Lady Jane
has told me, but that's all in the past now.  I would wish you to
promise not to get shot again."

"I shall do my best to avoid it in future," he said shyly, "Do you wish
me to delay my proposal, or--?"

"We would probably have to endure another one of these dinners."

"In that case, will you marry me?"  Tony asked with a rush.

"Yes."

Tony had a little difficulty getting the ring out of his waistcoat
pocket.  Sera was impressed that he had thought to carry one with him.
"This was Grandmother's," he said to her hand as he slid it on her
finger.

Sera looked at the brilliant stone, and when she raised her head to say
"It's lovely," he kissed her.  She knew then she had not made a
mistake.  He was the one.  She had been kissed by other men, but it had
always felt as though they were taking something from her.  With Tony
she felt that he was giving her something.

"Shall we tell them?"  he asked.

"Oh no, I think we should torture them as long as possible.  Look what
they have put you through."

When the others came into the room, Tony was chuckling over Sera's
stories of her travels, and they only thought that the two of them were
getting on well together.  It wasn't until they were leaving that she
flashed the ring at them.

"You Little devils!  Why didn't you tell us?"  Barclay demanded.

Chapter Two

The wedding was a simple, private affair.  There were only Lord and
Lady Cairnbrooke attending, with Sarah's father and Lady Jane.  Tony's
cousin Winwood was shaken loose from a country party to come down and
stand for him.  Sera found him charming, if somewhat foolish.

The entire affair was arranged so fast that when they actually came to
say their vows there was a sense of unreality about it for Sera.  She
had to keep reminding herself that they were not just lines in a play.
They were real vows, promises she would have to keep a lifetime.  She
concentrated on each one, and meant what she said.

"So much nicer than pistols, Tony," Winwood said of the knife they used
to cut the wedding cake.  Sera thought it was an unkind reminder, but
Tony only smiled at him.

"Perhaps we should have gone to Europe, as your father suggested," Tony
said unexpectedly as Lord Cairnbrooke's traveling carriage took them
southward.

"But I like Brighton."

He was a little conscious that Sera had seen so much more of the world
than he, and would have been glad to explore Europe with her for the
first time, but she was right that it was still too torn up for travel.
He would be a fool to lead her into danger or discomfort ... when he
felt so little able to take care of her.  Besides, the Brighton road
was hard enough to tolerate in a well-sprung carriage.  He turned a
little sideways, to get his right shoulder off the seat, and the better
to converse with his bride.

He was agreeably surprised by her in many ways.  She was witty, for one
thing, and sometimes had an uncanny knowledge of what he was thinking.
He had seen more beautiful women, but none so distinctive.  Once you
got to know those hazel eyes, that generous mouth, that
ever-so-slightly aquiline nose, they could never be forgotten.  And her
glorious brown hair, burnished with auburn--he was looking forward to
seeing it loose about her shoulders.  Compared to Lady Vonne, Sera was
not above average, but all in all, he was looking forward to being
married to her.

That Vonne thing was a bad business.  How he had been led into it, he
could not remember.  Only that after Charlie's death he had not cared
very much for anything, and Madeleine had listened and sympathized.  He
was just running over in his mind the course her sympathies had taken
when he became conscious of Sera watching him with a look of concern.

He flushed, thinking for a moment she really could read his thoughts,
then smiled nervously.  "Sorry I am such a morose traveling
companion."

"Will people think badly of you to marry while you are still in
mourning for your brother?"  She had been about to ask if his shoulder
hurt him, but sensed it would have been the wrong thing to say.

"Not since it was a private wedding.  Besides, if no one married who
was not in mourning for someone, there would be precious few weddings
in all of England.  Still, it can't be very pleasant for you.  You will
miss out on so much."

"I wouldn't have wanted a lot of show.  A wedding should be a private
thing, not a play given before strangers."

"What an odd thing to say."  Tony flashed a smile that was all the more
endearing for its spontaneity.

"Yes, when you consider that, generally speaking, I like the theater
very much.  That is the place for grand gestures and impassioned
speeches.  Real life is something quite different."

"I'm glad one of us has a firm grasp on reality.  These past few months
have seemed like a nightmare to me--that is, until I met you."

"Because of your brother."

"You understand, then.  He thought it was a lark.  He expected to come
back.  But not to even know how he died or where he is buried..."

"How would you feel if he had survived?"

"Alive again."

"Then pretend that you are your brother, live the life he should have
had."

"Pretending doesn't work for me.  Sooner or later I sober up and
discover he's still gone."  A hole in the road jostled Tony's shoulder
and surprised a grunt of pain from him.

"Then tell yourself that the pain of his death will ease when your
shoulder does.  If it hurts as much as I think, that will be long
enough to grieve."

"The pain of his death will never go away," Tony said, in despair.  "Tn
never forget."

"No, I didn't think so," Sera said in defeat.

"You don't know what it's like to lose someone-- I'm sorry ... your
mother..."  He looked anxiously at her.

"I never knew her.  But I have watched men die."

"In Brussels?"

"Yes.  They were so stoic, uncomplaining even when they knew."

"You should not have had to go through that."

She raised her chin.  "I'm glad I stayed, even if all I could do for
some of them was make them 'more comfortable.  At least they knew
someone cared."

"You were lucky to have had something to do.  You didn't have to endure
that waiting."

"There is something you can do now that I cannot."  "What is that?"

"Make sure there is not another war like that.  We have lost part of an
entire generation.  The country cannot afford another such
sacrifice."

"A political career?  I hope you have no such ambitions for me.
Besides, why should you worry over that?"

"Just because I'm a woman does not mean I don't think of such
things."

"Then you are more unusual than I thought."

They reached Brighton to discover that Marie and Stewart, Tony's valet,
had installed their luggage in the Old Ship Hotel and stood ready to
see to their comfort.  It was not the most fashionable hotel in
Brighton, but these were the best accommodations they could get on
short notice.  Tempting as the close view of the sea was to Sera, she
insisted she had to lie down and rest before dinner.

Tony had not thought her so delicate, but was relieved not to be
dragged all over town immediately.  Indeed, he lay down himself, and
fell into a fast sleep.

Sera was just sneaking out of her room for another look at the ocean
when she encountered Stewart in the hall.

"I don't suppose he has managed to fall asleep?"  she asked
hopefully.

"Yes, but I could wake him, if you--"

"Don't you dare," Sera whispered, with a chuckle.  "It's what I was
hoping for.  Even a short trip like this is bad for him.  We really
should have waited."

"He's very strong, generally speaking," Stewart said, looking rather
surprised at Sera's perception.

"I know, but for a time we must all conspire to see he gets enough
rest.  You won't tell him I've sneaked out for a short walk?"

"No, of course not."

"And let him wake of his own accord.  I have taken a sudden liking to
dining fashionably late."

"Yes, m'lady," Steward said with a smile.

Tony did chide Sera for not waking him, but he was so good-humored
after his rest that he only did it jokingly.  He ordered dinner for
them in the dining room of the hotel, quite expertly she thought,
checking by an inquiring look if she approved his choices.  She asked
him about his younger years, and he talked so unreservedly of Oak Park
and his boyhood adventures, she thought they were a fair way toward
being on intimate terms by the time he suggested an evening stroll
along King's Road and up the Marine Parade.

They had a pleasant walk, with Tony pointing out buildings he knew, and
were on the point of returning to the Ship when a young man, lounging
with some of his fellows, approached to say, "My name is Wentworth. You
don't know me, but I was wondering if you were in Belgium."  "No, I was
not," Tony said coldly.

"The Peninsula, then?  I only wanted to know be CaUSe"

"Ask my wife any questions you might have about the battle.  She was in
Brussels."  Tony said it as though it were an accusation, then walked
off without her.

Sera thought it was not well done of him.

"I'm sorry," Wentworth said, in obvious confusion.  "I didn't mean
anything.  by it.  I just assumed--"

"A natural assumption, I'm sure, but you have managed to set his back
up.  He was wounded in a duel, and it is not a good idea to cross him,"
Sera said hastily, as she ran to catch up with Tony.

"Well, did you fill him in on the latest news?"  Tony asked.

"No, I scarcely spoke to him.  I thought him quite presumptuous."

Tony did not offer her his good arm again, so she walked in silence
beside him.  He parted from her in the hallway and went into his own
room without a word.  Their rooms were joined by a common sitting room,
and she did sit there for a time, even trying t write some letters, but
Tony did not emerge.  She sensed that she had hurt him, not by anything
she had done today, but by revealing her own part in the conflict.  It
had not occurred to her he would be jealous of it.  He was a strange
man.  When she could not figure out what to say to make him feel
better, she said nothing.  It was no solution, but at least it did not
compound the damage.

"Perhaps his shoulder still hurts him," Marie volunteered as Sera sat,
rather red-eyed, over her tea the next morning.

"Yes, that must be it.  No wonder he sat up drinking then--trying to
deaden the pain.  I suppose it was a stupid idea to come on a honeymoon
with him.  not fit yet.  But Lord Cairnbrooke planned it for us.  He
said it would be good if we got away from London for a while."  Sera
wasn't sure if this was for their benefit, or to give the talk a chance
to settle.

Sera was not yet in love with Tony, but she thought that would come in
time.  She hadn't been quite sure what to expect on their wedding
night, but she had not expected to be completely ignored.  He had never
come to her, and she had slept only fitfully.

But she had recovered herself, and was calmly drinking her tea When
Tony emerged from his bedroom, looking fired and surly, his brown
eyebrows furrowed over his troubled blue eyes as though a headache were
gnawing at him.  It would be amazing if he didn't have a headache, if
he had indeed consumed as much wine as Stewart had reported to Marie.
"They have brought coffee, too, if you would like some," Sera said
brightly.

"Nothing, thank you."  He picked up the newspaper from the table and
withdrew behind it so as not to face her.  They had conversed so easily
before they were married, and even in the carriage on the way, and at
dinner, that she had no idea it would be difficult to talk to him now.
He seemed like nothing so much as a sulking boy, and she instinctively
knew that a display of temper or tears on her part would only make him
angry.

"What would you like to do today, Tony?"

"Whatever you wish."  He said it grudgingly, as though it were his duty
to do what she wished.

"Perhaps we could just take a walk and look around the town by
daylight."

"Yes, of course, whenever you are ready," he said from the depths of
the paper.

She finished her breakfast in silence, but the bites of toast had a
hard time getting past the lump in her throat.  She felt herself to be
in a tense situation, felt that one Wrong word would be enough to
endanger their future together.  When she had eaten a reasonable
amount, she went to put on her hat and gloves.  She took her time over
this, and was somewhat pleased to see, when she returned to the room,
that Tony had at least had some coffee.

They walked down the Marine Parade in silence in the warm September
sun.  She had remembered from her trip to Belgium how delicious the sea
air smelled.  She was about to make some such comment to Tony when he
remarked out of nowhere, "I suppose Wentworth and his friends will be
sniggering about me."

Seca saw them then, the same few young bloods who had been there the
previous evening.  Wentworth looked uncertainly at Tony.  Sera shook
her head no, and the young man went back to disputing with his friends
over something.  "They don't look at all like they are sniggering. 
Most probably he is trying to decide if he should risk apologizing to
you or just consider himself well out of a dangerous situation."

Tony left off his beetling scrutiny of the group of men, and as soon as
he glanced toward Seca, they made off.

"What are you talking about?"  he asked, glaring after the young men,
who glanced nervously back at him.

"When I informed him you had been wounded in a duel, Wentworth
straightaway became very apologetic.  I can only assume he thought your
opponent got the worst of the affair."

"What?"  Tony stopped to stare at her.

"He must have assumed you were striding off to get your pistols when
you left so hastily last night.  He did not stay.  I suppose just now
he had one friend urging him to do the manly thing and offer you an
apology while the other advised him to split and run."

Tony teetered for a moment on the edge of amazement, wondering if he
should be angry with Sera, but the satisfied little smile she gave when
she finished this speech tipped him into a laugh.  "How could you lead
that stupid boy into thinking me a desperate character?"  He shook his
head and smiled at her.

Sera chuckled then, too.  "I assure you I said nothing untruthful.  You
don't suppose he will cut short his stay just because he fears to be
called out by you?"

"I don't suppose anything of the kind.  What exactly did you say to
him?"

Since Tony was still laughing, she answered without hesitation, "Only
that it was too late to apologize, or some such thing, since he had
already set your back up."

"Of the two of us, I think you are the more dangerous," Tony vowed.

"Me?  What harm could I do?"

Tony was still chuckling when Sera felt his arm suddenly stiffen in her
loose grip and saw him flush as though in pain.  He was looking at a
gaily dressed young woman walking toward then between two gentleman and
laughing at their sallies.

She was blond and strikingly beautiful, Sera had to-admit but only in a
theatrical way.  Her exaggerated features were distinctive at a
distance.

Tony hesitated.  They would have to either cross the street or turn
around to avoid the trio, who had not noticed them yet.  Sera looked at
Tony sympathetically.  He had now gone somewhat pale.

"It's Lady Vonne, isn't it?"  Sera asked quietly.  He gave a guilty
start.  "Do you mind so much?"  Sera continued.  "We shall have to meet
her sooner or later.  Perhaps it's best to get it over with."

"Do you always run at your problems head-on?"  Tony asked with a faint
smile, as he took her hand more securely.

"It sometimes even works."  She laughed and started to walk on.  He
could do nothing but go with her.  She noticed that Lady Madeleine
Vonne, too, blushed at the sight of Tony, and then looked at her
angrily, even though she was herself on the arms of two gentlemen,
neither of them Lord Vonne.  Madeleine stiffened even more as Tony
introduced Sera to her, to Lord Meade and to Sir Randall Yates.

Lady Madeleine looked Sera up and down.  She was jealous to see this
nobody on Tony's arm, and the thought of his making love to this chit
whipped her passionate nature to indiscretion.  "I had heard you
married the daughter of a cit, Tony.  I see it's true."  Both Lord
Meade and Sir Randall gasped.  The dumbstruck look had scarcely
appeared on Tony's face when a ripple of laughter from Sera caught them
all off guard;

"Tony told me about your sense of humor.  But this is wonderful.  Such
wit is a rare treat."  Lady Madeleine did not appreciate being
appreciated, and ground her teeth.  "Wait until I tell Lord Grenville
that Father has been called a cit.  He will get a chuckle out of
that."

"You know Lord Grenville?"  Lady Madeleine gasped involuntarily.

Sera had purposely picked the name of the most influential of her
father's intimates to flaunt, and she was sat-is fed to see a shade of
fear color Lady Madeleine's expression.  "We have entertained him at
home often.  He likes a quiet evening of political talk.  I have grown
quite tired of it, I confess, having heard it from the cradle."

"You were your father's hostess, then?"  Sir Randall asked.

"Yes.  It was challenging, because I had to keep up with what was going
on just to converse intelligently at the dinner table.  Do you know he
means to marry Lady Jane Stanley?  But they are such old friends, I'm
sure no one will wonder at it.  I suppose she will convince him to run
for Parliament after all."  Sera said this last as though she didn't
really care to have her father exert himself in this way.  The two
gentlemen stared at her in fascination, Madeleine in horror.

"Oh, your father is Barclay, the banker," Lord Meade said, as though it
took an effort of memory.

"He is very nearly retired now, but he likes to keep involved.  Well,
it was a pleasure to have met you all."  Sera's dismissal of the three
went unquestioned, and she took Tony's arm again as they passed them
by.

He interlaced his fingers with hers.  "Madeleine's behavior was
terrible, but you were superb."  He looked at her in genuine
admiration.

"I did all right, then, to treat it as a joke?  Sometimes it's the only
way to defuse a serious argument at one of Father's dinners.  Lady Jane
taught me how to keep people from each other's throats.  I hadn't
expected it would be such a useful skill."

"I had no idea you were so experienced socially."  "Only among' cits,
of course."  Tony gave one of his rare laughs.

"It will be easier to meet her from now on, won't it?"  Sera asked.

"It will never be easy," Tony said.  "But it will be possible now."

If Sera hoped this would release Tony from his reluctance to make love
to her, she was disappointed, for he never came to her room.  She even
checked with Marie to see if she was doing something wrong, but her
maid assured her that English ladies did not go to their husband's
rooms.  Stewart reported that one or two nights he thought Tony had
screwed up enough courage to knock on Sera's door, but nothing had come
of it.  Each day it did get easier to converse with him.  And, perhaps
because she did not lay on him any of the recriminations he expected,
Tony began to relax a little and talk to her normally.

They occupied their daylight hours with walking, either through the
town or on the beach.  Once Sera ordered a gig and drove them into the
country for a picnic.  Tony was surprised that she drove so well,
having lived all her life in the city.

"I drove the gig on the farm."

"Farm?"

"Gott Farm, Father's weekend place, near Dorking.  It's generous to
call it a farm, I suppose.  It cannot be more than thirty
acres---enough for him to exercise his passion for fruit trees."

"I just realized," said Tony, as he watched her spread a cloth on the
ground, "I know nothing about your father, and little more about
you."

"I grew up at Gott Farm until I was sent to school in London.  I was a
day student, so I got to live at home.  Father and I have been
unusually close," she said, laying out their lunch.  "Still, I like the
farm better than London.  I have him all to myself at GoR Farm."

"And the fruit trees?"  Tony asked, seating himself against a
convenient beech tree.

"He has some remarkably fine orchards by now, The house itself is
small, hardly more than a cottage.  But Father has built a series of
succession houses that are the envy of his neighbors.  They are forever
trading vegetables and discussing bugs and other pests.  I am
hard-pressed to keep up with it."

"I would never have guessed it of him."

"He does have other interests than banking--politics, the theater--but
I think when he retires he will take up farming."

"And what are you interested in?"

"Everything and nothing."

"What?"  Tony asked on a laugh.  He had propped his left shoulder
against the tree, and was managing a sandwich with his right hand. Sera
knelt before him on the white cloth, the ribbons from her hat dangling
in the breeze.  She looked so young to Tony, he imagined that if he had
had a sister she would be as free and confiding as Sera.

"By having any amount of books laid out before me like a banquet, I
have nibbled at nearly everything from drama to geometry, but have
discovered no overwhelming hunger for any subject.  Makes me singularly
useless, except as a hostess able to converse on almost any
topic--well, knowledgeable enough to ask the right Cluestions.  Men are
very put off to discover you know more than they do about something."

"But that is exceedingly useful.  Think of all the dull parties you
enliven."

"Usually I settle for keeping the peace.  Men do get so passionate over
money and politics.  What about you?  What are your interests?"

"Speaking of being singularly useless..."  he said with a frown'

"You drive a team, don't you?"  Sera blurted out, to distract him from
depressing thoughts.  "I think that would be beyond me."

"Of course not.  I can teach you.  Do you fide?"

"Yes.  My groom taught me.  I can keep Chadwick with me, can't I?
Father has little use for him, and Chadwick does know my horses."

"You have horses?"

"Only two, and nothing like yours.  An old hack that Chadwick fides,
and a mare, who I regret to say is also showing her years.  I suppose I
should replace them, but I can't bring myself to sell them, since they
have served me so.  dutifully all these years."

"It's only a matter of time, and if they are no use..."  "But haven't
you got an odd pasture someplace where they could live out their last
years in peace?  It would be a treat for them to run loose for a
change, instead of spending most of their time in a stable."

"You're only putting off..."  Tony hesitated to condemn the unseen
animals, because of the pleading look Sera cast at him.  "Oh, very
well.  You can pension them off on one of Father's farms, if you like."
For this Tony received an exuberant hug and kiss that caused him to
spill his wine.  He returned the embrace laughingly, and Sera was
beginning to hope that in time she could charm him into loving her in
return.  Time was the one thing she had, and patience.

They had idled away most of the two weeks they had planned to be in
Brighton, and Tony had suggested extending their stay another week or
so, since it looked like the weather would stay warm, when they
received a letter from his mother.  Lady Amanda had obviously been in a
state when she wrote it.  Tony could make nothing out of it and gave it
to Sera impatiently to decipher over breakfast.  "The only thing I can
make out for certain is that someone is ill--your father, I think, or
else it is he who didn't want her to write.  I think we must go back.
If it were not serious, she would never have written us here."

"You don't know Mother.  She can be very ... possessive."

"No, you are fight, I don't know her, but we can't take a chance.
Suppose she really is ill..."

"Very well, if you wish it, we'll go home."  He said it so coldly, she
began to think she had lost all her progress with him.

"No, I don't wish it.  I have been happier here than I ever thought I
could be."  Tony looked at her in disbelief, realizing how little he
had given her.  "You're right, we must go.  I'll tell Stewart to
pack."

They reached Oak Park late that afternoon, a scant hour after Tony's
father succumbed to a second and fatal stroke.  The servants looked to
Sera for their orders now, not just because Lady Amanda was prostrate,
but because Sera was now the mistress of the house.

Tony was rather lost those first few weeks, and went rambling with his
dog and gun, or rode out alone for hours at a time.  Sera let him go,
and tried not to worry about his absences.  He knew the country, and
she felt he needed his solitude.  It gave her time to establish a
regimen in the disordered household.

The unfortunate aspect of the situation was that Sera could hardly
expect Tony to be very loving when all of them were in deep mourning,
so her campaign to win him had to be put away.  She had not the heart
for it, anyway, and threw herself into cheering his mother.

Lady Amanda bounced back from her grief much quicker than Tony, filling
the breakfast parlor with small talk that charmed Sera but only made
Tony sulk.  Any time he did spend in the house, he closeted himself in
his father's study with piles of ledgers and accounts.  "Father has not
been dead a fortnight, and all she talks is trivialities," Tony
complained when Sera came to see if he wanted tea.

"I think it is good for her.  She doesn't mean to annoy you, Tony."

"How do you find the patience to deal with her?"  "It's a novel
experience for me, having a mother."

"That can't have been easy for you, growing up without one."

"I think it made me more independent."  "She won't live with us always,
you know."  "But why not?"  Sera was surprised into asking.  "Because I
can't stand her most of the time."  Tony said this so desperately that
Sera had to laugh.  "Tell me I am an unnatural son," he challenged, as
he stood up.

Sera came and gently hugged him instead.  "You are an unnaturally
honest son, at.  any rate."

"And you are wonderful."  He kissed her hair and stood contentedly
holding her for a few minutes, until he heard footsteps coming across
the hall, then amused her by releasing her as though they were lovers,
and not married at all.

"Sera, there you are.  What do you think of this fabric for my bedroom?
Tony, I'm surprised you are still in the house.  You are usually out
riding, even in the foulest weather.  I Can't understand why you can't
be still for a moment.  You were not always like this."  Tony rolled
his eyes at this monologue, and Sera received the fabric swatch with a
laugh.

"Too somber for your bedroom, I think.  I will order some samples from
London."  Tony gave an impatient snort and went back to his ledgers.

Thrown as Sera was into Lady Amanda's company more than her husband's,
there was a bond forged between them, an unspoken conspiracy to cheer
Tony up and to keep any household annoyances from him.  Sera was some
use in this, since her liberal allowance provided for any little
necessities in the way of servants' clothing or extra candles.  But
when the kitchen maid came weeping to her with the confession that she
was with child, Sara was nonplussed.  She had never dealt with a
situation like this before.  Except for her personal maid, Marie, her
father's servants were mostly older, and did not get into such scrapes.
Instinctively she took the girl to Lady Amanda.

"What are we going to do?"  Sera asked her mother-in-law.

"She must be married, and soon," decided Lady Amanda.

"But he refuses the child!"  wailed the maid.

"Then we will have him arrested," Lady Amanda said confidently.

"Can we do that?"  Sera asked.

"It is what Edwin would have done if he could not force the man into
marrying her.  Joshua is our under groom after all.  We have some
responsibility that young girls are not accosted in our household."

Kerry and Joshua were married within the month, the groom seeing it as
a better alternative than jail.  Sera hoped he would be more reconciled
to his fate than Tony was to his.

They spent a somber Christmas.  Sera's father and Lady Jane, now
married, had gone to Paris.  Their only company were neighbors, mostly
Lord Cairnbrooke's age, who plagued Tony with their advice on estate
matters until Sera thought he was ready to bolt.  She nodded and
listened to the advice of their wives, firmly vowing not to follow any
of it.  They did raise her consciousness of the poverty of the
surrounding hamlets, so she sent a pair of servants one day each week
to buy large quantities of bread and vegetables of whatever kind they
could find and distribute them to each cottage.  Tony.  got wind of
this, and called her into the study to give her a lecture.

"I hear you have been buying food for the poor."  "You say that like an
accusation."  "You can't feed them all.",

"But I can feed the closest ones, and hope that our neighbors are
embarrassed into doing the same for those closest to them."

Tony stared at her.

"It might work," she said defensively.

"They are proud people.  They won't like you for this charity."

"Why should they like me for a few potatoes and onions?  I only want
them not to starve."

"Sera, I can't afford it," Tony said regretfully.

"It's my pin money.  I can do with it as I please."

Tony went rather white about the mouth and said tightly, "Yes, I
suppose you can."

"Unless ... unless you need it," she offered, seeing she had hurt
him.

"No!  Do as you please.  You will anyway."

Tony realized that, never having been in need or in debt herself, Sera
had no inkling what it felt like.  As often as she trampled on his
feelings in this way, he would manage to overlook it.  Whether his
tenants would be as generous he had no idea, but he could not bring
himself to berate her for her generosity.

He walked out and was gone the whole rest of the day, even though a
slicing rain started falling in mid-afternoon.

"He must have taken shelter somewhere, depend on it," Lady Amanda
assured her as she made ready to go up to bed.  "He was probably caught
miles from home, and is toasting himself in front of a friend's fire,
or at some inn."

"I'm sure you are right," Sera said warmly.  "But I want to finish this
book anyway.  I shall come up later."

It was long past midnight when Tony finally blundered into the hall,
rousing a servant to dry and clean his gun.

Sera was so glad to know he was alive, she ran to him.  "Are you all
right?"

"I'm the, just fine," he said with a slur.

"There's a fire in the drawing room."

He followed her in and warmed his hands, swaying a little as he stood
upright.

"I shall have them heat some food for you."

"Don't bother.  Most likely I couldn't keep it down.  Too much
brandy."

"But then you should eat something."

"I don't want anything, and will you stop trying to run my life?"  He
collapsed on a chair and tried, unsuccessfully, to pull off his wet
boots.

"I'm sorry I've ruined your life," Sera said, coming to tug at the
unwilling boots.

"I said run, not ruin, but it amounts to the same thing."

She stopped her efforts and turned to leave him, hiding the hurt on her
face.

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean it.  It's I who have ruined your life.  You
got a bad bargain, my dear, but none of this was my idea."

"Well, you don't imagine it was mine!"  Sera vowed with a spark of
anger.

"What?"  Tony asked as he sat up and tried to focus on her face.  She
looked so blurry to him, he could not hide if she was crying or not.
"Whose idea was it, then?  !  can't remember."

"Actually, it was Lady Jane's," Sera said, getting control of her
voice.

"Who is Lady Jane?"  Tony tried to rise, but as he had one boot
half-off, he stumbled and hopped most ungracefully until he finally
fell over a footstool.  Sera came resignedly to help him up, but he
waved her away and tugged at the offending boot until it fn ally came
off.

"Father's new wife.  I told you, they have been wanting to marry for
years.  I was very much in their way."  "But I thought you wanted to
marry."  "No, not particularly."

"BUt why me?  Surely you could have done better than this," he said,
looking about him as he struggled to his feet.

Sera smiled at him 'through her tears.  "Lady Jane has a liking for
you.  She thought I might be able to keep you from getting killed in
another duel."

"I suppose Mother and Father had the same thing in mind.  Why ever did
you agree?"  he asked as he leaned on a table.

"I had no intention of doing so.  I thought the whole idea was very
silly, until I met you.  I liked you SO much, and we seemed to get on
so well, I thought it just might work."

Tony stood staring at her in disbelief.  "On the strength of one
meeting?"

"Yes."

"You are naive."

"Why did you agree?"

"I was worn down with hurting and feeling guilty about everything.  I
wasn't thinking properly."

"I see.  You were deranged," she said, disappointed.  "I still am."

"And still feeling guilty?"

"About you, as well, now."

"Well, stop it," she commanded.  "Stop feeling guilty about me, for I
was not deranged when I married you, and I like you still."  She got
under his arm to steady him up the stairs.  "And stop feeling guilty
about your father.  You couldn't have saved him."

"It's not that.  I never really cared about him until he died and it
was too late."

"You idiot.  Don't you realize everyone feels that sort of regret? They
just have less of a conscience about it."

"What do you mean?"  he asked as he gained the door to his room.

"They shake it off and get on with their lives a lot quicker.  Don't
you feel you have punished yourself enough?"

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"That's the only thing you are accomplishing."

"I wish I could see things as clearly as you."

"I wish you were as easy to talk to sober as you are drunk.  Most
likely you won't even remember this conversation in the morning, and I
shall be right back where I started."

Tony laughed weakly and heard a thump from the dressing room that
indicated they had awakened his valet.  "I shall try to be both more
sober and more easy to talk to in the future, and you have my
permission to recite this entire conversation to me over breakfast.  I
know your memory is capable of it."

"You look suddenly quite pale."

"That is because I am going to be disastrously sick in a moment, so I
wish you would go and leave Stewart to help me."

"Gladly, and I shall remind you of that, too, if you seem inclined to
drink again."

"You are a heartless woman," he said as Stewart helped him into his
room.

Tony made a late appearance at breakfast and had weak tea and bread as
a palliative for his queasy stomach.  "What shall we do today?"  he
asked Sera.

"If I have not got to recite, I think we should take a drive.  Fresh
air is good for a headache," Sera answered.

Lady Amanda looked rather mystified by all this, but declined an
invitation to drive.  She did wish the children, as she thought of
them, would get out from underfoot for a few hours so that she could
have the gloomy morning room stripped and get the wallpaper started.

Lady Amanda was so engrossed in redecorating Oak Park that she might
have been content to stay there in February, when Tony began to prepare
to return to London.  But Lady Amanda felt strongly that all was not
right with Tony still, in spite of his somewhat more cheerful manner.
When she broached the subject with her new daughter, Sera begged her to
come to London with them so sincerely that she could not refuse the
girl.  If Sera needed her, she must be there to support her.

Tony saw Sera so busy with her cleaning and repairs that he thought she
would not have minded staying on the estate through the spring and
summer, but one of the things he had determined was that he would not
be an absent peer in Parliament.  He could scarcely go to town without
his wife, when the whole point of their marriage was to lend him some
respectability and to bring her into the ton.

It was difficult for him to remember sometimes that they were married.
Sera seemed more to him a comfortable sort of sister.  What she made of
their odd marriage, he had no idea, for they had never so much as
discussed it.  The longer they went on without consummating their
marriage, the more difficult he felt it would be to do so.

He thought perhaps Sera had no idea what to expect, and that it would
be all right to wait until his mother could be on her own.  He did not
realize this was just an excuse, as his wound had been.  Why he had
held himself back from her in the beginning, he had never bothered to
analyze.  But when he agreed to marry to please his parents, he had
been at the disadvantage of being in disgrace.  He had numbly consented
to all his father's arrangements, including the marriage settlements,
which he had later found to be greatly in his favor.  Now that he had
the family finances in his own hands, he discovered he had married Sera
for her money, whether he had intended to or not.  The only blessing
was that she did not know it.

Tony was wrong in thinking Sera would have liked to stay at Oak Park.
She was getting tired of pretending to be his wife.  She missed her
life in London, and was eager to resume it, especially since it did not
appear that she was to have a real marriage.  Also, she must get away
from their cheerfully pregnant maid, who was a reminder of all that
Sera was missing.

Chapter Three

The Cairnbrooke town house stood at stiff attention, one in the
seemingly endless rows of fashionable houses around Portman Place.  It
did have a certain stately reserve, like a retired army officer, and
side walls of its own, though only the front and back rooms got much
light.  Most important, it had its own stable in back, so Sera could be
reunited with her horses, Casius and Ivy, and her groom, Chadwick.

Tony had just come from an extremely disquieting meeting with his man
of business when he drove into the stableyard to discover two strange
horses being cosseted by his wife.

"Are these your horses?"  he demanded, with more than ordinary force.

"Yes, they have kept well over the winter, don't you think?"

"You are not keeping those two old screws here."

Sera looked at him in disbelief, but Tony was not joking.

"But I have had Ivy and Casius since they were young.  I can't sell
them."

"Well, they are not taking up space in my stables."  With that, Tony
stormed into the house, leaving her in the company of the grooms, and
feeling for the first time in her life as though she would like to
burst into tears.  Instead, she took a deep breath, raised her chin and
requested the under groom to saddle Casius and put a lead on Ivy.
"Chadwick, come with me."

She led her groom into the breakfast parlor, where there was a small
desk Lady Amanda had given her to use.  "I want you to take Ivy and
Casius to Gott Farm.  Father isn't there right now, but you know
everyone.  I'm sure they will be willing to take care of my horses.
Here is money for the journey, and the trip back by stage."

"Yes, miss.  If His Lordship asks what I've done with them..."

"Tell him the truth.  If he should get angry enough to dismiss you, I
will employ you myself at the farm."

"I'm not worried about that.  I shall be back late tomorrow."

Sera said nothing to Tony of all this.  She pretended, in fact, that
nothing had happened.  She supposed she could mope about and be
tearful, but she strongly suspected that would only make Tony
angrier.

Tony, of 'course, regretted.  his flash of temper, but he could not
have his wife mounted on such old horses.  She would like a younger one
better once she accustomed herself to it.  Since she did not seem
upset, he thought no more about it until the next morning.  Sera was
writing some letters in the breakfast parlor when he came in wearing
boots and carrying a riding crop.  "I'm sending two horses to Tatter
saWs today.  Where is Chadwick?  I want him to ride one."

"I sent him on an errand.  He won't be back until late today,"

"I know he is your groom, but you might have consulted with me first.
Does he go to sell your horses?"

Sera was astounded that Tony could know so little about her.  "Of
course not," She said, rising.  "He is taking them someplace safe.  I
would never sell or otherwise dispose of old friends, just because they
are old."

"Someplace safe?  Are you afraid to tell me where?"

Tony asked, in rising anger.  "What do you imagine I would do?  Butcher
them?"

"I don't know anymore what you might do," era said, clasping the back
of the chair.

Tony was shocked to realize that she was afraid of him, and yet she
faced him down.  He sat down, somewhat shaken by his own display of
anger.  He must not lose control again.  He owed her that much.

"If you must know, I sent them to my father's farm.  It's where we all
grew up.  I'll get to see them when--if I go there for a visit."

"You--you make them sound like people.  Had you no friends when you
were little?"

"No," she said in amazement, as though the lack of them had only just
occurred to her.  "No one I was allowed to play with.  I have a very
bad habit of talking to horses as though they can understand me.  I
have tried not to, but it's no use."

Tony stared at her a moment longer, then shook his head.  "I had no
idea they meant so much to you.  But they are only horses."

"Once something belongs to me, I can never let go of it.  I can't bear
not knowing what will happen to it."

"Fortunate that I do not have your sensitive nature.  I shall have to
let go of a good few things, if we are to keep this house," he said,
rising and looking around him.

"Tony, why didn't you tell me?"  She walked toward him, wondering if
she should offer to help with money.  She had plenty of her own that he
apparently did not even know about.  But she did not want to make him
angry again.  "It's not your worry."

This upset Sera even more, for if he really regarded her as his wife he
might share his troubles with her.

"Some of the servants will have to go, too--at least one groom."

Her eyes flew to his face.

"No, not your precious Chadwick.  The man's too competent."

"Is there no other way?"

"We could sell the house, but then we wouldn't need two upstairs
maids."

"This would be a very bad time for your mother to give this place
up."

"We still have Oak Park.  I can't sell it, anyway."

"Couldn't you just lease this house?  We could live somewhere else for
a few years."

"I hadn't thought of that.  I have got a smaller house, south of Saint
James's.  It never brought much rent, it's in such an unfashionable
neighborhood--near Tothill Fields."  "Has it got a stable?"

"Actually, it dOes.  It's on Marsham Street, just off Horse-ferry
Road."

"I like it better and better," Sera said with a smile.  "There would be
no grand parties.  There's no ballroom."

"We should not be entertaining much during the mourning period, anyway.
Has it got space for my books?"

"I imagine," Tony replied in confusion.  "Why do you ask?"

"I'm afraid I'm a bit of a collector.  I didn't like to say anything
about it, since the library at Oak Park is full and there is no room
for a library here."

"Just how many books have you got?"  he demanded suspiciously.

"I should say there could not be more than seven or eight ... hundred."
Sera peeked at him to see what effect this news would have on Tony.

He stood openmouthed for a moment.

"I did warn you I am bookish."

"I know, but really!  I thought that was just an expression."  Suddenly
he smiled, and he had to bite his lip not to laugh at Sera's hopeful
look.  "I don't suppose there is anything else I should know about you.
You haven't got an art collection for me to house, or some more
livestock?"

"No, I think-- Well, there is McDuff."

"Don't tell me--an aged family retainer."

"Some such thing.  You may not like him, but Lady Jane and he do not
get along, so I thought perhaps..."  "When is he coming?" 
"Tomorrow."

"Good.  He can help us pack."

"I don't think he will be much use at that, but I shall contrive to
keep him out of the way."

"No doubt."

Sera and Marie were in her dressing room, repacking her gayer clothes.
It was tiring, having just packed and unpacked, to be going through it
again.  "I should have told you not to bother unpacking these.  I can
only wear grays and mauves for a time, anyway," Sera said, letting her
frayed temper show.

"They get too crashed if they are not hung," said Marie as she
carefully laid a pink silk between layers of silver paper.

"Nevertheless, these two trunks will go directly to the attic in
Marsham Street.  I don't need them."

Marie was protesting this decision in excited French when there was a
growl, a muffled oath and angry yapping from the bedroom.  Sera stepped
back in to see Tony brash McDuff off the settee with enough force to
make the little dog yelp when he landed.

"McDuff!"  The animal limped to her, pathetically holding Up an injured
paw.

"Why didn't you tell me McDuff is a lapdog?"  Tony was red in the face
and wrapping his handkerchief around his hand.

"I didn't really know how you would take it," Sera said, picking up her
old pet.

"Your bedroom is no place for him.  If you want to keep him, send him
to the kitchen."

A flush rose to Sera's cheeks.  "I don't see what difference it makes.
You never come in here anyway!"

Marie went back into the dressing room, and Sera cursed herself for
saying something so stupid.

Tony grew quite white in the face, and she really did fear him for a
moment, but he only slammed the door on his way out.

It was the worst thing she could possibly have said, and she regretted
it as soon as her temper cooled.  She should have known McDuff well
enough to know he was only faking an injury.  Like Armand, who had
given her the dog, McDuff was a consummate acton

Sera had never previously been aware of having a temper, but then, no
one had ever provoked her into losing it before.  At moments like this,
she regretted ever marrying Tony, but then he did something
unexpectedly nice for her.  It was never a verbal apology, but she
could not resist his efforts at peaCemaking.  When he wasn't angry, he
looked so much like he expected her to be still shrewish, it was
laughable.  She wondered where they were drifting--possibly into one of
those cool and polite relationships that were more like business deals
than marriages.  Perhaps that was all Tony had ever wanted.

As a way of making peace, Tony offered to take Sera for a ride once
they were settled in Marsham Street.  The house seemed larger to Sera
than the town house, but that was because it could get air and light
from all four sides.  Even better, it was on a corner, so they had easy
access to the stables.  There was even a small garden.  Sera and Lady
Amanda talked excitedly about how to refurbish the worn furniture as
they selected their rooms.  Tony interrupted them ruthlessly,
commanding Sera to put on her riding habit even before the garment was
unpacked.  She could only look wistfully at her crates of books in the
empty downstairs room as she was whisked down the hall to the back
door.

"What have we for a lady, Chadwick?"

"I fancy this bay mare, myself.  She's very lively, and Jeffers says
she can jump."

"Saddle her up," Tony commanded.

"What's her name?"  Sera asked, taking off her gloves to stroke the
velvety muzzle.

"Tansy," Jeffers supplied, after he directed the stable boy to fetch
Sera's sidesaddle.  The mare gave a playful buck and seemed a little
uncertain of her direction, but Sera pulled her in behind Tony's gray,
and she soon quieted.  "That horse is supposed to be broken."

"Probably not used to being ridden sidesaddle," Sera commented.  "She's
settling down to it already."

Tony watched Sera jealously through Saint James's Park, not knowing how
well she might ride, considering the slugs she had owned.  Sera did not
make any grievous errors, except for talking to the mare the entire
way, rather than to him.  But he recalled she had said she did this
and, however annoying it might be, it did seem to keep the young horse
distracted enough not to try any dangerous tricks.  Even a loose dog
did not make her rear, since Sera saw it and calmed Tansy
immediately.

It was a wearing ride for Tony, wondering when his wife would be
dumped.  He had never had charge of a lady on horseback before, and it
made him nervous.

Sera, on the other hand, was having a marvelous time, outguessing her
new friend, saving the young horse from any serious blunders by
anticipating what she would try next.  She had not enjoyed herself so
much since she had helped Chadwick train Ivy's colt.

"Tired?"  Tony asked as he helped her down at home.  "Not at all.  Can
we ride every day?"

"If you like, and you can go with Chadwick or Jeffers when I am not
about.  I don't know about that mare, though."

"She is sweet.  A little playful, perhaps, but so eager to please, if
only she can figure out what I want from her."

It struck Tony that Sera might be describing herself.  He realized that
she did everything she could think of to please him.  She put up with
his surly silences, and sometimes even managed to tease him out of
them.  He should never have married her.  He could not be a real
husband to her so long as her money kept them apart.

It rained for most of a week, which gave them time to settle in to the
house off Horseferry Road.  The next time Tony and Sera had a chance to
ride together, Tony had a gelding brought out for Sera to mount.  She
supposed the horse was all right, but he did not look as well boned as
old Casius, in her estimation.

"Can't I ride Tansy, instead?"

"What?"

"Your little bay mare."

"I sold that one, with some of my other stock."  "Sold her?  But why? 
I liked her so much."

"She was not well trained, and sooner or later would have given you a
crashing fall."

"Your selling her - it wasn't an accident," Sera said accusingly.  "You
sold her on purpose.  Why?"

Tony had already told her why.  He did not want to tell Sera to her
face that he did not trust her horsemanship.

"You don't have to answer me," Sera said bitterly, turning away.  "You
sold her because I liked her."

"Don't be stupid.  Just get on the horse."

"I don't care to ride today - or ever - with you."  Sera walked
deliberately back to the house, wondering if she had said too much. She
did want to ride with Tony, very much, but he made ,"t so plain this
bored him, it was probably best she put a stop to it now. Everything
she tried to do to get close to him seemed to put more barriers between
them.  She was so angry with him at that moment that if there had been
an easy way to divorce him, she would have done it. Whether she still
loved him or not was dangerous to think about.

He knew how she felt about horses, how she became attached to them, yet
he sold the very one she liked the most.  Did he do it on purpose, to
put her in her place, or did he not even think about her wishes?  This
was a much more depressing thought than believing he had done it to
spite her.

She did not have the heart to face Made.  If she had to tell her why
she was not riding, she might very well cry, and she had too much pride
for that.  She went to the downstairs room she had chosen as her
library, where by now some of her books had been unpacked and ranged
along the available shelves like old friends.  She leaned against them,
and had a sudden black vision of Tony pulling them down and tearing
their pages.  She really was being silly.  He never did anything
violent.  She almost thought it would be better if he did break
something.  Always he pushed down his anger, as though there were
something keeping him from saying what he really thought.

She heard Tony running up the stairs, three at a time.  It had to be
him.  She knew a cowardly impulse to lock the door.  Instead, she took
down a volume she knew by heart, carried it to the desk and sat down to
read.  It was ten minutes before he ran her to ground, and she had
regained much of her composure by then.  When he threw open the door,
he was seething.

"I should drag you out there and make you ride that horse."

"I suppose you could.  But you don't like to ride with me, anyway.  It
was a stupid idea to try at all.  You don't like to do anything with
me.  Why would you like to ride with me?"

"You are still my wife.  I won't have you throwing a it over something
as stupid as a horse."

"If anyone made a scene, it was you.  And horses are not stupid.  At
least Tansy was not.  Now I shall never know what has become of her.
She might be beaten or misused.

You really don't care."  Sera was very nearly in tears, in spite of her
viselike grip on the old book.

"If you cared about her, you should have said something."

"So it's my fault she was sold, then?"  Sera asked, in shock.

"I'm only saying it wouldn't have happened--"

"I'm not a child, Tony.  I wish you would stop playing these stupid
games.  If you don't like me, there's nothing I can do about that.  But
don't pretend.  It's much more cruel than hating me outright."

Tony looked as though she had dashed cold water over him.  Sera walked
past him, out of the room, and he stood a moment wondering what had
given her the idea he hated her.  Women took such stupid notions.  All
over a damn horse.  He supposed he would.  have to buy the thing back
now.  He had only been trying to protect her.  But hate her?  Never!

A man with a little more experience with women would have gone after
her, would have stopped making excuses and tried to explain himself.
That would have meant apologizing, and Tony truly did not think he had
done anything wrong, at least not on purpose.  He went instead back to
the stable.  He found Chadwick alone and was thankful for that at
least.

"Find out from Tattersall's where that mare went, and buy her back."

"How much should I pay?"  Chadwick asked impassively.

"Whatever you have to," Tony said, giving him the roll of money he had
just received for the sale of four horses at Tatt's.  "Don't come back
without her."

"Yes, sir."

As with many of their arguments, there was no real reconciliation. 
They simply did not speak of it again.  By now there were dozens of
things Sera was afraid to speak of again.  Lady Amanda feared that she
was in the way, and went to Sera after breakfast to offer to return to
Oak Park.

"Oh, please don't leave us now.  I shall have no one to talk to when
Tony is angry."

"I don't know what is wrong with him.  He used to be so gay--never
irritable like this."

"He has so much on his mind now.  Iexpect he will get over it.  But it
is nothing to do with you.  It is a relief for me to have you here."

Eventually Lady Amanda believed her, and to cheer them both up, Sera
took her shopping.  She ordered a hackney for the expedition, since she
did not like to leave Tony's coach horses standing in the street, nor
to tie up one of the grooms for hours on end.

There were only Jeffers, Chadwick and an under groom to look after the
stables.  Their household staff was similarly reduced.  They were
fortunate in being able to leave the kitchen staff and most of the
under servants at the town house, for the lessors to pay.

Rayburn, the butler, when queried by Sera on his preferences, said he
would like a change of scene.  It was he who had supervised their move
to Marsham Street, with so much dignity that it could not be thought to
be a financial rout, but rather a planned temporary retreat into a
quieter neighborhood.  Rayburn achieved all with no loss of face for
himself or the family, and had been instrumental in engaging the new
kitchen staff.

Tony frankly admired the man's loyalty.  But Rayburn was also inspired
by a lively sympathy for his new mistress.  From some few things Marie
had let fall, and Rayburn's own observations, he could see that things
were not as they should be between the new Lord and Lady Cairnbrooke.
He resolved to do all in his power to smooth any difficulties between
them.

Marie thought Rayburn had been an easy ally for Sera to enlist, almost
no challenge compared to the reserved Stewart, whose first loyalty
should have been to Tony.  With his whole staff conspiring against him,
Lord Cairnbrooke should not be too difficult to bring into line.  Sera
had been vaguely aware of these subtle shifts in loyalty, but thought
it only natural, since she was responsible for the household staff.

On the way to the shops, Marie's droll comments on the state of dress
or undress of the ladies they passed had both Sera and Lady Amanda
giggling until they went by a fashionable phaeton halted before a hat
shop in Oxford Street.  They were just getting down from the hackney to
enter the shop when an irritating trill of laughter caused them to look
at the occupant.  It was Madeleine Vonne, which would not have been so
upsetting, except that it was Tony who was gazing up at her and causing
her laughter.

Sera stood frozen on the pavement for a moment.  How could he look at
her so, as though she still had him bewitched, when she had come so
close to getting him killed?  Lady Amanda gaped, and had just opened
her mouth to say something, when Sera grabbed her arm and pulled her
into the shop.  Marie paid off the driver.

Sera composed herself for her mother-in-law's sake and refused to speak
of the incident, even when the shop girls were not bustling about them.
She secretly prayed Madeleine and Tony would have gone when they
left.

Up until she saw Tony with Madeleine, Sera had thought him so beaten
down with grief over his brother and father that he could never be
happy.  That was why she did not push him for a more normal marriage.
Yet there he was, laughing and chatting in public to the jade who had
nearly ruined him.  Sera could not recall ever feeling so hurt in her
life.  Tony was not, to her way of thinking, a very wise man, but she
had never before had reason to doubt his sanity.  What if Lord Vonne
should see them?  What if he should hear of the incident?  It was just
the sort of nasty gossip that got carried fight where it would do the
most harm.

When they returned home, she came to regret not letting Lady Amanda
vent her wrath in the shop in Oxford Street, for she attacked Tony
about it at dinner.  There was a blazing argument between those two, in
which Tony accused his mother of meddling and Sera of spying on him. 
"I cannot very well ignore Lady Vonne, can I?"  he demanded of Sera's
downcast face.  "Can I?"  he persisted.

"No," she said, wondering what he wanted of her.  So often what he
shouted about had nothing to do with why he was angry, and there was no
point in arguing with him.  It only made them both ridiculous.  He
slammed out of the house with no dinner, which stole Sera's appetite,
as well.  "I must leave now," vowed Lady Amanda.

"Certainly not," said Sera, shaky, but more composed than either Tony
or Lady Amanda.  "To be sure, he will have forgotten all about it by
tomorrow.  He is most angry when he knows he is in the wrong, and he
will do something nice for us by way of apology."

"But that is just what Edwin was like."

"Perhaps Tony is only imitating him, then."

"I hope not," Lady Amanda said, and Sera was afraid to ask her what she
meant."  But if his mother was outraged at Tony's behavior, then it was
not her imagination that their marriage was a strange one.  Others
might think so, too, especially if Tony seemed once again on intimate
terms with Madeleine Vonne.  Sera could abandon him, of course.  She
had enough money to live by herself wherever she chose, even to take
Lady Amanda with her.  It was the thought of this, rather than Tony's
sad lapse, that left her sobbing into her pillow that night.  She did
love him.  Resolutely she dried her eyes.  She must make a push to win
him, then, or at least keep him so distracted he had no time for
Madeleine.

Sera did not miss Chadwick for a day or two.  If she had asked Tony
where her groom had gone, he might have shyly said that he had sent him
after Tansy.  But she did not ask, and Tony did not volunteer the
information.  If

Chadwick could not get the horse back, there was no point in getting
Sera's hopes up.

Sera had returned to her calm and normal self the next day.  She was
not at all like Lady Vonne, who would never have let such a quarrel die
until she had Tony at her feet.  Moreover, Sera seemed to have
forgotten all about the horse, and Tony had begun to wonder if he had
been hasty in sending Chadwick off after it.

Tony had from the first morning read The Times at breakfast, Sera
suspected to avoid conversation.  In the absence of Lady Amanda, who
lately preferred to breakfast in bed, Sera carried on a monologue that
frequently tried the reserve of the butler, Rayburn, who was not
supposed to be attending to the conversation.

"It says here that Lord Haye spoke in Parliament yesterday," she
pretended to read from the Morning Post, "on the abolition of war...
and the prohibition of all hunting in Hampshire ... and the Midlands,"
she added, failing to get a rise out of Tony.

Rayburn overset a teacup, which did make Tony look up.

"That's where you hunted last year, isn't it?  In the Midlands?"

"Mmm..."  Tony grunted.

Sera smiled sweetly at Rayburn, who staunchly froze his face.

"In the society news," she continued, "it seems that lap-dogs are on
the decline.  At least three well-bred ladies of fashion have taken
monkeys as pets.  Do you think I should get one too, Tony?"

"Yes, if you like."  The Times trembled, but Sera only thought Tony was
turning a page.

Rayburn ineffectually tried to cover a guffaw with a cough.

"Are you ill?"  Tony inquired acidly of the dignified, gray-haired
retainer.

"No, m'lord."

"Yes, I do think a monkey would be so particularly entertaining at the
breakfast table, don't you?"

"Yes, of course," Tony said, as deadpan as he could manage.

"Although one really can't do much with a monkey other than feed him.
Perhaps I shall buy myself a horse instead.  If you do not have time to
go to the sales with me, Chad wick can go.  He's a good judge of
horses, isn't he?"  "What?  Yes, of course," Tony returned.

"Good.  That's all settled, then."  Sera smiled triumphantly at
Rayburn, who beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

Without giving it much thought, Tony had supposed when he got mar fled
that he would be allowed to read his Times undisturbed at the breakfast
table, as his father had done.  He wondered now if perhaps his father's
predilection for solitary reading was what had encouraged his mother to
babble.

After a late night of cards, Tony was not much in the mood for
conversation, anyway.  But when he discovered one day that his
monosyllabic replies to Sera's breakfast sallies had given her
permission to turn the largest downstairs room into her personal
library, he began to listen with a little more attention, even though
he was too proud to let her know this.

If only she asked for something as simple as a new hat.  He had
frequently to bite his lip to keep from laughing outright at some of
her more ridiculous flights of fantasy.  Behind his paper, he could
exercise more control than Ray-burn, who had to face Sera and voice an
occasional reply.

Fortunately, Sera talked herself out of her sillier proposals, like the
monkey, for she was not really a spoiled child, as he had once
supposed.  She was an inordinately inventive young woman who only
wanted the smallest part of his attention.  That he could not give her
even that disturbed him more than he liked to admit.  But he had to
keep her at arm's length until he was free of his debt to her.  Once
she no longer owned him, he could be a proper husband to her.  It was
only after Sera had gotten bored with her game and left on her errands
for the day that Tony actually ate or studied the financial news for
the day.

He knew that Rayburn no longer looked kindly on him, because of his
supposed mistreatment of Sera, and he did not blame the man.  He did
not like himself much for how he had chosen to handle his problem.  But
he was making some small progress toward his goal of financial
independence, and Sera seemed patient enough in most other matters.

If she truly had no female' friends her own age, it might not occur to
her what an odd marriage they had.  But then he thought of Marie and
those sharp French eyes looking daggers at him.  No telling what she
might confide to Sera.

Chapter Four

Not finding Chadwick about, Sera knew a chilling fear that Tony had
dismissed him, and for a moment she forgot all about her plan.  Jeffers
merely said that Chadwick had been sent on an errand, and Sera was
miffed.  Tatter saWs sales were only held on Mondays at this time of
year.  If she did not get a horse today, she would have to wait a whole
week.

"I know.  You can go with me to buy a horse."  "Me?"  Jeffers asked.

"You're the head groom.  Tony said I could take Chadwick, but you must
know as much about horses as him, perhaps more."

"But Lord Cairnbrooke usually buys his own horses--" "But this horse is
for me.  I feel sure you will be able to help me.  Now saddle that ugly
bay for me, and we'll be on our way."

"Where are we going?"  asked Jeffers suspiciously as he sent the under
groom scurrying to saddle two horses.  "Tattersall's."

"But ladies don't go there!"  he blurted out.  "Well, I'm not going, of
course--you are."  "Why are you riding with me, then?"

"I want to try the horse out straightaway.  We shall be near Hyde Park,
anyway."

When they reached Tattersall's, Sera rode boldly into the courtyard and
commanded a lounging groom to take her horse.

"But you said you were not coming," Jeffers protested.  "Not to the
sale, silly, That won't start for an hour or more.  I must at least
look at what they have to know what I want."  She strode past the line
of carriages under the portico and into the stables themselves. Jeffers
looked about nervously, but there was no one to be seen except a few
stable boys, who merely gawked at Sera as she wandered from one stall
to another.  She gave a blood chestnut a good deal of attention,
commanding Jeffers to Check the animal's feet.  This nearly got him
kicked, and Sera spoke threateningly to the horse in a low, menacing
voice that Jeffers could hardly credit as coming from her.

She had learned a trick or two in the theater, and was not above using
them.  The beast snapped to attention, as though he were trying to see
where the new voice came from.

"Well?"  she demanded.

"He looks SOund enough, but you can't be thinking about buying this
one.  Lord Cairnbrooke would have my head if

I bought this beast for you to ride."

"Let's see what else they have."

But Sera was not much interested in the rest of the stock, now that the
chestnut had taken her fancy.  She could remember Casius being so
cresty and snorting proud in his youth.  Ivy's colt had possessed just
such a temperament, she thought sadly.  Tony was right about one thing.
She did need a younger horse.  She had forgotten what it was like to be
challenged by a beast to a contest of wills.  "How long before he comes
up to auction?"  "I don't know.  We could be here all day."

"I told you, I don't intend to stay.  Here's the money.  You bid on
him.  Go up to two hundred.  After that, use your own judgment.  I'm
going to trot around the park until you've done."

"M'lady, I can't leave you to ride alone!"

"What can possibly happen to me on this horse?"  Sera demanded as he
gave her a leg up.  "Either you stay and bid on the chestnut, or I
will.  Those are your choices."

Jeffers looked miserably torn and Sera took pity on him.

"Trust me, Jeffers.  I know what I'm about."  Somehow this did not
steady Jeffer's nerves.

It was little more than an hour later when Sera saw Jeffers leading the
chestnut toward the park.

"You got him!  Switch my saddle over onto him."

"I think I had best lead him home.  You can try him tomorrow," Jeffers
suggested, knowing full well Lord Cairnbrooke.  would prevent such a
disaster.

"Nonsense," said Sera, guessing' exactly what Jeffers was thinking.
"That would give him another day to.  rest.  Now is the time to best
him, when he's still fired from his travels, I do know how to saddle a
horse myself, and I can get on one alone if I have to."  Sera said this
in such a threatening way, Jeffers led the horses to a more secluded
part of Hyde Park to make the switch.

"Lead the bay.  I won't get too far ahead of you," she said, as he
helped her mount the chestnut.

"But m'lady--" Jeffers gave up all hope then.  The young Lady
Cairnbrooke would surely be killed, and he would be to blame.  It was
not himself he was worried about.  Even though he had served in the
Cairnbrooke household since his youth, Sera's pathetic situation had
won over his sympathies, as well.  He could see young Lord Cairnbrooke
turning into just such a tyrant as his father had been, and he did not
like it.

Sera kept the chestnut at a controlled canter to show Jeffers she
could.  "Now for a bit of a gallop to see what he'll do," she said over
her shoulder.

"No, I beg of you!"

Sera let the horse gallop for a few minutes, until they were
approaching a line of trees, then pulled him in with a series of
determined tugs.  The beast tried to grab the bit and wrestle control
from her, but she persisted and, despite some head-thrashing and a few
choppy bucks, she brought him to a halt that reassured Jeffers to some
extent.  He had not seen Sera ride before, and now wondered how his
master could ever have thought a mare would be too much for her.

"Safe enough in the open," Sera commented.  "I wonder what he'll do
among the trees.  We used to play hunt-the-squirrel in the woods around
the farm."

Sera let the chestnut trot, then canter, as they twisted and turned
among the trees.  The beast changed leads naturally, and had a certain
military grace to him.  That was when it hit Jeffers where he had seen
the animal before.  He was one of Major Kurtland's war-horses.  At
least he shouldn't spook over nothing, but who could guess what bad
habits he had picked up in the cavalry?

Still, the horse seemed to be following Sera's commands until they came
to a straight stretch of trail and the beast appeared to miscalculate.
He would surely carry the girl fight into a tree!  Just as Jeffers was
about to yell a warning, Sera gave the left rein a yank and caught the
beast a rap across the left ear with her whip.  The chestnut went down
on his right shoulder, and Sera hopped off before he could recover
himself.  When the horse stood, he looked around suspiciously.  "Yes,
it was me, you fool.  That's the oldest trick a horse has ever
invented.  Don't try it again."

That strange voice, low and penetrating, was now surely coming from
Sera.  The horse regarded her with new respect, as did Jeffers.  "Are
you hurt, m'lady?"  he asked, dismounting.

"No, of course not, I do not think I have hurt his mouth too badly.  I
would never do that to a young horse, and a cut across the ears could
ruin a novice, but he had it coming.  I think we shall give him one
more go at this stretch and then call it quits for today."

"You don't mean to get back on?  I just remembered who he is.  They
call him Satan at Kurtland's stable."

"No, I think Satin would be better, Red Satin.  And of course I will
ride him home."

You will scare Lord Cairnbrooke to death if he sees you on this
horse."

"Do you think so?  Then we have bought the right one.  NOw give me a
leg up."

Jeffers complied and trotted after his mistress, beginning to be a
little afraid of what she had in mind.  She turned the horse and rode
him straight at the same tree, as Jeffers looked on.

A shout of "Don't even think about it!"  made Satin's ears prick back,
but his eyes did not again stray to the tempting limb.  Sera praised
him fulsomely for not trying to kill her again and let him walk to cool
down a little.

"This does not make him safe, you know," Jeffers warned.

"I expect he will try it at least once more."

"Where did you learn that trick?"

"From Chadwick.  You are sure he is coming back?"

"I know he has not been dismissed, but he did not say where he was
going.  You could ask Lord Cairnbrooke."

"Without knowing the answer, it's not a safe question.  So few of them
are," Sera confided.  "Tony is a man of deeds, not words.  Makes it
very hard to communicate with him sometimes.  I never really know
what's eating at him."

Jeffers looked bleak at this news, and he followed Sera, leading the
bay and hoping his employer would not see them until he could prepare
him for the news.

When Sera came in, glowing from her ride and full of plans for worrying
Tony, she found Annand Travesian sitting with Lady Amanda, and Lady
Amanda laughing.  Sera had never before seen her mother-in-law blush,
but Annand could charm anyone.

"You have been so busy getting married and moving about, you have been
neglecting me," he complained as he hugged her and kissed her cheek.

"How is your wretched play coming?"  she asked as she sat in a chair,
leaving him with Lady Amanda on the sofa.

"Tolerably.  It could use a woman's touch.  We are having a bit of
trouble with the costumes."

"I will bring Marie to you.  She will soon put things right."

"Armand tells me you have an interest in the theater."  Sera did not
know quite how to interpret this.  She did indeed own half of the
Agora--it was an arrangement not even her father knew about--but she
did not think Annand would be so indiscreet as to say so.

"We should all take an interest in good theater, ma'am, if we expect
there to be any," Sera countered.

"The world of the theater must be so exciting," Lady Amanda gushed.
"What is your favorite role?  You are an actor yourself, are you not,
Armand?"

"It's so difficult to say.  I must in my lifetime have played fifty
leads."

"Which one does he do the best?"  Lady Amanda appealed to Sera, who had
poured herself a cup of tea.

"Without question, the role he plays best of all is that of Armand
Travesian," she said with a twinkle.  "The others are pale shadows
compared to the force of that character."  "A compliment?"
Travesianasked.

"I'm sure you will twist it into one if it is not," Sera said
blithely.

"You are in rare form today, dear Sera, and, if I may say so, nearly as
lovely with that bloom in your cheeks as Lady Amanda."

Lady Amanda blushed becomingly, and Sera smiled at Travesian.  No other
man could bring out the best in a woman as he could.

Lady Amanda sobered herself.  "I am not so flustered as to forget that
you are an actor, sir, and such compliments trip easily from your
tongue," said Lady Amanda with mock dignity.

"Not so, dear ma'am.  I am a very constant fellow.  Ask this lady, who
knows me well."

"True," Sera said with a wink.  "He has been forever telling me how
much he loves me."

Lady Amanda giggled.

"That is a fatherly-brotherly love, not the mature affection that I
feel for-"

Tony entered just then, and Sera hastened to make introductions. Armand
did not stay long under Tony's withering gaze, but Tony's mother
scarcely noticed this.  Lady Amanda saw Travesian to the door, then
tripped up the stairs, humming to herself.

"Who is that fellow, anyway?"

"A friend of my father's.  I have known him since I was fifteen."

"That is no excuse for inviting him here."

"He only paid a morning call.  If you have decided to dislike him on
two minutes' acquaintance, I certainly will not invite him to
dinner."

"I didn't say I disliked him."

"No, but you showed it.  A man with a less generous nature would have
been offended."

"I don't think a man like Travesian can be offended."  "I wonder if you
may be right," Sera said, quite unexpectedly.  She could feel a fight
brewing, and she saw no point in it, for she could see Armand any time
she wanted to at the Agora.  "Now that I think of it, I have seen him
turn the most blatant of insults into a joke.  I believe I learned the
trick of it from him."

This called to Tony's mind Sera's be sting of Madeleine in Brighton,
and his own more recent encounter with the woman.  His simple greeting
had gone beyond what he had intended, and he.  could now see how
someone might have interpreted it as dalliance, just as he might have
misinterpreted Sera's laughter at Travesian's wit.

"You don't particularly like him, then?"  Tony asked uncertainly.

"I respect him for what he is good at, producing plays.  I will not
invite him here, if you have no taste for such joviality.  Many people
see it as forced.  But you have to remember, he was an actor once
himself.  He tends to overplay every scene."

"If he calls, I suppose there is nothing you can do about that," Tony
conceded.

"It would be rude to deny I am home, and it probably would not work.
Besides, your mother likes him, and he makes her laugh.  I see little
enough of that from her.  If Armand wants to entertain her by playing
the clown, I think we should let him."

"How did your father ever come to know him?"  asked Tony, by now
completely mollified.

"He backed one of his plays--quite successfully, I might add."  Sera
toyed with the idea of telling Tony she had done the same, time and
again, and had now more than a monetary interest in Travesian's latest
production.  But having once calmed Tony, she could not bear to throw
him into another fit of annoyance.  She 'liked him too well when he was
in a good mood.

She almost put aside completely her plan to make him very angry indeed.
All would have come to naught, anyway, if Jeffers had got at Tony
before she took Satin out again.  As it turned out, Tony went out after
dinner, as usual, not saying where.  She imagined him meeting Lady
Vonne somewhere, dancing with her, even going to bed with her.  Such
irrational dreams haunted her through the night, long after she had
heard Tony come in and go to bed.  Where did he go at night, if not to
be with Lady Vonne?  If it were an innocent pastime, why did he not
tell her what it was?

By morning, she was so angry with herself for letting such mistrustful
thoughts plague her, she needed to fight something other than shadows.
She determined to take Satin out and not worry whether Tony saw her or
not.  She put on her riding habit and, undeterred by finding Chadwick
still absent, commanded Jeffers to saddle Satin for her.

"Perhaps Lord Cairnbrooke will ride with you today," Jeffers said
hopefully.

"No chance.  He came in late.  I don't think he will even be up before
noon."  Sera looked wistfully at Tony's bedroom window as she said this
and waited for them to bring out the horses.  If she wanted noise
enough to wake the soundest sleeper, she got it without even asking.
Satin whinnied at sight' of her and, when Jeffers handed her up, danced
around the small courtyard, his metal shoes ringing as they struck the
cobbles, to the endangerment of the under groom Dillon.

A window was thrown up, and Tony, his head delightfully tousled,
squinted down at the scene.  "What the devil?"  he asked, trying to
clear his vision of his docile wife mounted on the most
dangerous-looking horse he had ever se ens

"Good morning, Tony," Sera called.

"Where the devil did that horse come from?"  Tony sputtered.

"I just bought him," Sera said, letting the pawing Satin rear a little.
It was enough of a display to make Tony bump his head on the window
frame.

Then she gave Satin his head, and they burst into the street, with
Jeffers looking hopelessly back at his employer.  Tony yelled for
Stewart and began to throw on his riding clothes.  "Don't help me!  Go
tell that groom to saddle my horse.  I think my wife has gone mad.  I
know Jeffers has.  Move!"

By the time Tony clattered down the stairs, his horse was saddled and
the under groom was biting his lip at how Lady Cairnbrooke had bested
her husband.  For his money, she was as game a rider as any woman he
had ever seen, and should have been trusted with Tansy in the first
place.  He passed up breakfast to wait in the stables for the outcome
of the morning's ride.

Sera kept Satin to a canter through the streets, for safety's sake, but
let him have a good long gallop through Saint James's Park.  Two
gentlemen out exercising their mounts thought they were witnessing a
runaway, and actually started in pursuit of her, since she had such a
lead on her groom.  But as she came to the line of trees, Sera pulled
Satin down to a canter and kept him circling while she waited for
Jeffers.  The men did not know what to do with themselves then, but
could not resist the temptation of meeting such a dashing beauty.

"I don't believe we have met--William Falcrest," the older man said to
Sera, tipping his hat.

"And I'm Clive Falcrest.  Isn't that Kurtland's horse?"  "Not anymore.
I'm Lady Cairnbrooke.  Sorry, but I can't leave him standing, and I'm
pretty sure you can't keep up with me."

Sera was off again, down the same stretch of trail, with Jeffers after
her, but Satin did not so much as think of losing his rider, so glad
was he to have a playmate who enjoyed a good gallop.  Jeffers breathed
a sigh of relief.

Thus challenged, the Falcrests rode after her and kept up with her
around the lake and on into Green Park; They pulled up when they saw
she meant to canter on toward Hyde Park without so much as breaking her
stride.  "So that is Tony's wife.  I shall have to contrive to meet
Lady Cairn-brooke someplace where I can keep up with her," Clive vowed,
rubbing his stiff leg and easing it in the stirrup.

"Thank God Marissa was not with us.  Don't you tell my wife we were
outrun by a woman.  We will never hear the end of it," William
warned.

They were walking their mounts back when Tony came up with them,
open-shined and looking as though he had leapt from a bedroom window.

"Hyde Park," they said in unison, and laughed at Tony's familiar
scowl.

Sera trotted Satin, or cantered him on some of the more open walks, in
deference to Jeffers's hack, which was beginning to blow.  When she
could make out Tony's approaching form, she made for the woods.
Jeffers, now used to the game of tag between the trees and shrubs,
managed to keep her in sight, but it was the last they saw of Tony.
Sera brought them out again on Park Lane and trotted quite sedately the
whole way home to Marsham Street.

Their mounts were quite cool by the time they returned, and the under
groom received them into his charge with satisfaction.  He had thought
Lady Cairnbrooke would be a match for the red brute.  Of his master he
saw nothing for half an hour.  When Lord Cairnbrooke did dash into the
yard, his gray was flecked with foam, and Dillon looked on his master
with disfavor when he realized how long it would take him to properly
cool the animal.  "My wife and Jeffers?"  "Back this half hour,
m'lord."  "And safe?"

"Of course," Dillon said matter-of-factly.

Tony stared at him in disbelief, then ran into the house.  Sera had
been waiting in her bedroom.  She had taken off her hat and gloves,
since' it seemed so silly to play a scene in these extra accoutrements,
but had not known what else to do with herself.  Tony was gone so long
she had fretted herself into a fear that he had fallen somewhere and
been injured.  She was on the point of enlisting Jeffers to go look for
him.  When he suddenly appeared there in the courtyard, her relief was
so great, she wept.

How could she love him so much, when he only cared about her for
appearance's sake?  He would be blazingly angry.  That would be hard to
take.  There must be a better way to get his attention, but what was
it?  She was never intrepid, except on horseback or at the theater. His
boots thumped on the stairs, and he threw open the door.

"You're all fight, then?"  he said weakly, coming toward her.

It was not what she had expected.  Why wasn't he shouting at her?

"Why did you do it?  You could have been killed," he said in despair.
"Didn't you think about that?"

"Of course I did," she said, and glanced at him.

He was unshaven, and his hair was thrown all over his forehead.  He
looked at her piercingly with those ever-so-blue eyes.

"Perhaps it would have been the best thing.  I can't divorce you.  If
I'm gone, you will still have the money, and you can do as you please."
It was not what she had meant to say, for the thought had only flitted
through her mind.  It seemed to make a vast impression on Tony, who
looked at her as though seeing her for the first time.  "Although I
still cannot look upon Madeleine Vonne as a safe pursuit for you.,"

She said this so coldly, she took his breath away.  He stumbled to her
and crushed her in his arms.  "Are you so very unhappy?  How could you
contemplate such a thing?"  he asked of that magnificent hair.

"I only thought of it, but it was such a fine day," she said, looking
up at him with tears glistening on her lashes.  "And Satin turns out
not to be so very dangerous after all, and I did enjoy riding him.  But
when you didn't come back, I got so worried about you."

"You worried about me?  I'm the one who is supposed to be worded about
you.  How can I keep you safe, if you won't let me?"

"It works both ways.  I can't keep you safe either."  "Promise me you
will only fide with me from now on."

"Have I got to ride the bay?"  she asked childishly.  "He has no
imagination at all."

"I don't know where you got that red monster--"

They were distracted by the sound of horses in the courtyard.  Sera
glanced out the window.

"Look!  It's Tansy.  Where did she come from?"

"I don't know.  Chadwick has been searching for her all week."

"You bought her back for me?"  Sera asked in disbelief, looking up into
his smiling eyes.

"I did tell him not to come back without her.  And it's had me in a
worry that he took me seriously and would never turn up again
himself."

"Oh, Tony, I love you so much."  She kissed him so unreservedly that he
staggered, then she dashed from the room, leaving him swaying and
wondering if it had really happened.

He came down to the yard to find Sera making a fuss over Tansy's cut
mouth.  "Poor baby... I shall make her a warm bran mash."

"I'll take her, m'lady," Jeffers offered.  Dillon was still walking the
gray, enjoying to the full Lady Cairnbrooke's victory.  Chadwick looked
a little tired.

"Where did, you find her?"  Tony asked Chadwick as Sera hurried back to
the house.

"Lord Axminster's, a matter of forty miles from here.  Quite reluctant
he was to give her up at first, but then, his lady had not tried her
yet.  Once Tansy dumped the woman, he was eager enough to sell.  I had
only to hang about the village a day or so.  He had a go at Tansy
himself, hence the bruised mouth, but he didn't manage to lame her.  I
told him that she was sold by mistake, that you wanted her back to get
her properly trained.  He seemed glad enough to sell her back then, for
the same price he had paid.  I suppose I should not have pushed to get
her here, but you don't know Miss Sera and her horses."

"Unfortunately, I am beginning to, and your timing was excellent.  Come
look at this red brute she has acquired in your absence."

Chadwick led his mount in and ran an admiring eye over Satin.  "Very
nice.  She has a good eye for horses.  Who did she buy him from?"

"He came from Major Kurtland's stable," Jeffers volunteered, then
regretted drawing his employer's attention to himself.  "Although I
didn't know that when I bought him for her," he continued valiantly.

"You bought him for Sera?"  Tony demanded.

"Yes, sir," Jeffers said.  "She assured me she could handle him."
Jeffers refused to put any blame on Sera.  He knew why she had done it,
and it seemed to have worked.  Lord Cairnbrooke was not angry, only
relieved she had not been hurt.  Jeffers went back to grooming Tansy.

"Where did she learn to ride like that?"  Tony asked Chadwick.

"She did not always content herself with old beasts.  She had a young
colt once, Ivy's foal.  I helped her train it.  But she loved it too
much."

"What happened to it?  She would never sell it."  "I found it dead one
morning."  "Of what?"

"I can only think it got struck by lightning.  She blamed herself, of
course, for letting the horses have the run of the pasture at night."

"She should have gotten another horse.  It's the best thing."

"I know that, and so I told her.  She said she could not bear to love
something that much again, knowing she might lose it."

"No wonder losing Tansy hurt her so.  Thank you for getting the mare
back."

Tony could hear Sera in the kitchen, saying the water was still too
hot.  He could use some hot water himself for shaving, but he supposed
he could wait until Tansy had her bran mash.  Tony, who scarcely
bothered to name his horses except by color, was willing to take second
place to Tansy for the moment.  Sera had said she loved him.  Did that
mean she could never give him up, no matter how many stupid blunders he
made?

Chapter Five

Although his first tide on Satin was a wild one, Tony could not
remember enjoying anything so much in years.  He was so involved with
the horse, he forgot to worry about Sera and Tansy, who kept gamely up
with them.  The two of them riding together drew almost as many stares
from onlookers as Sera had galloping on Satin.

They encountered the Falcrests again, and this time a dark-haired woman
was riding with them.  Sera saved Tony the trouble of introducing the
men by saying she had already met the brothers, leaving Tony to wonder
what talk she had exchanged with them, while William made Sera known to
his wife, Marissa.

"William told me you bought Kurtland's horse.  I'm glad it has gone to
a good stable, since he would not buy it for me," Marissa said as they
began to walk the horses.

"See, Tony?"  Sera said, turning smugly to speak to her flustered
husband.  "I told you a lady could fide Satin."

"Well, Marissa could get away with it," Clive offered, "but until I saw
you with him, I wouldn't have thought there was another woman in London
who could carry it off."  "Why, thank you."

"That does not mean you should ride him again," Tony hastened to add.

"Yes," William agreed.  "To do it once will only be chuckled over, but
to be tearing around unescorted on that brute every day would begin to
cause remark."

"You think so?"  Sera asked innocently, looking up to William, on his
large gray.

"Men are so stuffy," Marissa complained.  "If no one will tide with
you, send a note around to me.  I do' not care what horse you fide."

"Then we would have both of you being talked of as fast," William
warned.

"What of it?  We are both married women.  It does not matter what
people say of us."

"Really?"  Sera asked in delight.

"Actually," Tony inserted, "it would be rather hard on Mother to hear
such gossip, as she has been so worried about bringing you into
society."

"Tony is fight," William offered.  "Sera may be married, but she must
still be accepted by everyone."

"Anyone who doesn't accept her will be cut by the Falcrests," Clive
assured her.

"You have nothing to worry about, Sera," promised Marissa.  "You must
bring Lady Amanda to call on us.  We have not seen her for almost a
year."

After a hearty gallop, they parted with assurances that they would meet
again, and Sera asked Tony why he had not told her he had such
delightful friends.

"I suppose I was embarrassed to face them, having made such a fool of
myself last autumn,"

"They seem to understand."

"Yes, I'm glad we ran into them.  They are my only truly close
friends."

Sera had no sooner changed from her riding habit than Rayburn sent up
word that Lady Jane waited below, with Lady Amanda.  Sera tripped down
the stairs to hug her friend.  "Where's Father?"

"At the bank, of course.  Our first day back.  It's always business
first with him.  I told him it was more important to call on you."

"He knew I would understand," Sera said.  "You must come to dinner
tonight."

"How was Pads?"  Lady Amanda asked.

"Hardly changed at all, except for the quantity of English now residing
there," Lady Jane replied.  "The roads are still a bit torn up, but
then, they were never well kept.  I have bought hats."

"Only hats?"  Sera chided.

"Wait until you see my wardrobe.  I will start a fashion."  "You are
raising our expectations for tonight."

"I hate to say anything, but my expectations of this location have been
crushed.  South of the city is bad enough, near Horseferry Road is
worse, but to be no more than a stone's throw from Tothill Fields...
Really, Sere!"

"I like it here.  It has a stable.  It's close to Saint James's
Park-Oh, and you must see my library!"

When Sera informed' Tony that her father and Lady Jane had returned, he
agreed to stay home that evening.

"So sorry to hear about your father, dear boy.  I truly liked him,"
Barclay said, shaking Tony's hand warmly.

"We did not even hear the news until we returned from

Europe," said Lady Jane.  "I suppose we have been keeping ahead of your
letters, Sere."

"But I thought your house was in Portman Place."  Bar clay said.

"It is.  We ... let that one."

"There was no need.  I know something of your father's affairs.  He
meant to have put everything fight for you "

"I

am coping," Tony replied.

"But if you are in difficulty--"

"I wanted a smaller house," Sera put in, afraid her well-meaning parent
would push Tony too far.  "The one in Port-man Place was tightening,
besides being so far from the parks and having no place for my books.
All the walls are lined with paintings.  Come and see my library
here."

Barclay went off with Sera to admire her handiwork.  "Sera is looking
well," said Lady Jane to Tony.  "Married life must agree with her.  I
know it has made me very happy."  She missed Tony's wince as she
greeted Lady Amanda.

When they had all gathered in the sitting room, Tony's mother
announced, "I have a surprise for you.  Armand Travesian is coming to
dinner."

Sera gasped so blatantly Tony knew she had nothing to do with it, and
he could not help laughing at the helpless look she cast at him.
Travesian arrived in all his grandeur.  He wore a satin-lined cape,
since he intended to go on to the opera afterward, and he dominated the
conversation with talk of this season's success and his expectations
for next season.  During dinner he managed to convey to Sera, in a very
stagy way, all the news she needed to know about the current state of
affairs, including the fact that she had been neglecting to coach the
actors in their lines, as she had done during rehearsals the previous
year.

When he had done, Sera turned with relief to ask her father about their
travels.  Even talking about the war would be better than suffering
Armand's unspoken condemnation and Tony's tired, patient look,

"A bad business all around, this war.  It will be years before things
are back to normal in Europe: Banking matters are on the way to being
regulated again.  Commerce must go on.  There was one rather disturbing
note.  I can't call it a discovery, exactly.  The story might be
entirely unreliable."

"What is it?"  Tony prompted.

"As you may or may not know, Nathan Rothschild bank-rolled the war.  He
sent gold to Wellington in Spain when the army was close to
starving--sending it through France, no less.  He got the gold for
Wellington to come back across France, coins Napoleon had ordered
minted in Belgium.  And he came up with the money to finance this last
expedition, when the government could not."

"It was not out of the goodness of his heart.  He will be repaid," Tony
said bitterly, knowing the government was little better off financially
than he was.

"He may have been already."

"What do you mean?"  asked Sera.  "The government could not have raised
all his millions already."

Tony blinked and looked at her, wondering how she knew the extent of
the loans.  Probably from her father, he supposed.

"He may have extracted payment himself," Barclay said.  "As you know,
after the defeats at Ligny and Quatre-Bras, some people sold out of the
funds, your father included, Tony."

"But Rothschild himself sold at first.  At least I remember hearing
that," said Sera.

"After he already had knowledge of Wellington's victory at Waterloo."

Travesian looked up from his contemplation of the burgundy in the
ensuing silence, and whistled.  "A sham--to create a deliberate
panic."

Tony glanced at Travesian and saw suddenly a quite astute man, not the
bacchanalian figure he had thought him.  This realization was almost as
much of a shock as Barclay's news.

"Then he bought all the shares he could, along with the rest of you, to
try to prop up the economy," Sera said.  "But he took no real risk, if
he knew the outcome."

"Rothschild must have made a million pounds on that gambit," Travesian
said bitterly, as though he were sorry he had not thought of the trick
himself.

"How could Rothschild have had foreknowledge?"  Tony asked with a dry
mouth.  "The military courier would have gotten here soonest."

"Did he send someone in a boat?"  Lady Amanda asked.  "He does have a
most efficient courier system of his own," Barclay said.  "His courier
had only to reach Calais, and one of Levereau's swift packets would
have brought him oven That must be how he did it, if the story is true.
But I heard the rumor from more than one source, and here in England,
as well as in Belgium."

"He ruined Fathen I almost think that had something to d with his
death."

"Oh, Tony, surely not," Lady Amanda said tearfully.  "Don't worry, my
dear," said Travesian to the stricken Lady Amanda.  "If it's true, we
shall see the blackguard punished."

"How?"  asked Tony.  "Where can I look for proof?."

"If we can find the means, we may be able to find the pro off offered
Barclay.

"What good will that do?"  asked Sera.  '"What he has done is not even
illegal."

"It should be," Tony vowed, wondering again how Sera knew.

"I couldn't agree with you more, my boy.  Sorry to cast such a. pall
over the evening."

After they left, Sera asked, "Do you think it's true?"

"I mean to find out."  He was getting ready to go out himself, and this
time Sera did not suspect his intentions.  "What will you do?"

"I'm not sure.  Don't worry.  I won't make a fool of myself."

"Tony, Rothschild is a very powerful man "

"You know him, then?"

"I have entertained him and been his guest."

"What is he like?"

"With people he feels comfortable with, he is as jovial as the next
man.  But present him with a stranger, someone he has no reason to
trust, and he undergoes a remarkable change.  He is not a man who gives
anything away, not by word or deed.  I could never tell if he approved
or disapproved of someone by his expression.  If you didn't know him,
you might think he was in a trance.  Then you see a light flicker in
those eyes and know there is a very great deal going on behind them."

Tony heard her out, then put on his hat.

"You will be careful.  You did promise me that."  "When was that?"  he
asked, smiling tiredly at her.

"Before we got married.  You promised you would contrive not to get
shot again."

"Fancy you remembering that."

"How could I forget it?"

He kissed her once for reassurance, then was gone.  Sera did not fall
asleep until She heard Tony come in.

Lady Jane did not neglect Sent and Amanda, but came to Marsham Street
several days a week, to deplore the location and to drag Sent off
shopping.  After her morning ride with Tony, Sent did not care very
much how she filled her day, since she had the entire evening to work
on the script for The Count.

Although Lady Amanda did not often go with them, she did accompany them
to leave cards at Falcrest House, since Tony had said the Falcrests
were his only truly close friends.  Marissa and her mother-in-law,
Victoria, were not home, but the footman conducted them to the morning
room, from which came frantic barking and laugh mr Lady Jane looked
inquiringly at James, who hid a grin as he opened the door to announce
them.  It was obvious they were interrupting a game of catch between a
blond-haired man with an eye patch, a little girl and a dog.  A young
woman with long blond hair quelled her laughter long enough to push
herself up from her chair and greet them.  "Elizabeth," Lady Amanda
said with delight, as she kissed the woman's cheek, "this is my
daughter-in-law, Sent."

"Hello, Sent.  Hello, Jane.  Allow me to present my husband, Jason
Weir, and my niece, Amy."

Elizabeth was wonderfully pregnant, and beautiful, Sera thought.  With
her merry blue eyes and golden cuds, she looked the very picture of
maternal health.

"And this is Aft," Amy informed them.  "He knows how to shake hands."

Sera was the only one of the three who said, "Arf, shake!"  in a
commanding voice, thus receiving the distinction of having Arf greet
her, and Amy smile at her.

"Jason?"  Amy asked, tugging at his coat sleeve.  "Am I supposed to
make myself scarce now?"

"Not necessarily, brat, but that is what I intend to do."

"Why should you leave?"  Sera asked.  "We have only come for a short
Visit."

"Arf can be a bit overwhelming," Elizabeth warned.  True to form, as
soon as era sat down, Arf made as if all forty pounds of him would jump
on her lap.  "Arf!  Sit!  Stay!"  Sent enunciated, pointing to a spot
on the carpet.  The unexpected voice of command surprised the lop-cared
creature into actually obeying.

"Bravo," Jason said.  "I wish he listened to me half as well."

"Aft likes Sent," Amy told him.  "So she must be all fight, just as
Mother says."

Elizabeth giggled, and Jason groaned.  "I suppose there is good reason
not to trot children--especially Marissa's--out for company until they
are grown."

"I think Amy and I will be great friends, as we both like dogs," Sera
said.  "If only she likes horses, as well--"

"I do, I do!"  Amy shouted, jumping onto the sofa beside her.  "I am
getting a pony this year."

The talk for the rest of the visit of necessity revolved around horses
and Amy, but era thought it was a wonderful way to get acquainted. When
Jason excused himself to go to the College of Surgeons, they took their
leave, well satisfied with the visit.

After returning Lady Amanda to the house, they went to a new hat shop,
where Lady Jane deplored the English styles and Sent teased her by
trying on a purple satin poke bonnet with yellow ostrich plumes.  Sent
turned from the mirror to discover that Madeleine Vonne had entered the
shop.  She removed the bonnet and sobered herself.  Lady lane sniffed
and began to gather her parcels as Madeleine demanded the attention of
the shopkeeper.

Sera was not so easy to rout.  She idly slipped the plumes through her
fingers and became distracted by their movement.  As so often happened,
she thought of one of her characters, Lady Rue, and how she would look
with such a creation mounted on top of her powdered wig.  Wrong period,
but Lady Rue could wear the plumes.  Sera swung the bonnet through the
air to study how the hat arrived before the feathers, which only seemed
to catch up to it breathlessly.  She could just picture Lady Rue making
a hasty entrance, followed by such a headdress.

"Do you mind so much, re' lady the clerk asked with a flush, indicating
the purple bonnet.

"Oh, here," Sera said distractedly, and was amazed to realize that
Madeleine intended to try on the hat.  It was a color Sera might have
gotten away with, if she had liked such things, but it was exactly the
wrong hat for the fair Madeleine.  It overpowered her face and seemed
to give her an extra head.  Lady Jane cleared her throat, and Sera
realized she had been staring openmouthed at the spectacle of Madeleine
with the bobbing plumes.

"I'll take it," Madeleine said coldly, to the surprise of everyone in
the shop.  It suddenly occurred to Sera that Madeleine only wanted the
thing because she might have bought it.  Sera was a little shocked, but
was beginning to be amused.  Quickly she glanced around her and picked
out a carrot orange hat with black net and a peacock feather.  Once
again, it would have been a daring hat for her, if she had liked to
flaunt herself.  She had to do no more than stroke the feather.  She
could hear Madeleine commanding the hat to be brought to her.  Sera
relinquished this article, as well, and looked on as Madeleine tried
it.  The small blonde must have seen Sera staring at her in the mirror.
"I'll take this one, as well."

The clerk looked desperately at Sera, who smiled and winked.
Comprehension dawned on the shop girl, and she hastened to wrap both
the hats.

Madeleine turned to face Sera.  "You have to know what you want in this
world and go after it," Madeleine informed her.  Sera blinked, and
heard Lady Jane gasp beside her.

"Then it's a good thing men are not hats, or you would have a closet
full of them."  It slipped out so glibly, it might have been a line
from one of her plays.  She regretted saying it, of course, 'for
however amusing it might be in a play, it irritated Madeleine, who left
in a rage.

"I'm so sorry, re' lady the clerk said apologetically after Madeleine
stormed out.

"Actually, I was only interested in the plumes for a head dress I am
making.  Have you any that are still white?"  "Oh, yes, I'm sure we
have."

"The nerve of that woman, buying those hats just because you were
looking at them," raged Lady Jane.

"I was going to see if I could interest her in the black sarcenet, but
I was afraid she would catch on."  Sera started laughing, and Lady Jane
had to give a grudging smirk.

"You don't suppose she will actually wear those things?"

"I hope her dresser will prevent her."

"No, you don't," Lady Jane accused, laughing.

This sent Sera off into chuckles.

"I almost hate to close Lady Mellefieur," Travesian said as he
swaggered up the aisle.

"We can't do them both at once," Sera complained.  "The sets are too
different."

"Another two weeks, then.  Most of the ton have not even arrived in
town yet.  I should prefer a grand opening night for The Count."

"Your actors could certainly use the rehearsal time.  I listened to
most of one act, and it was not as smooth as when we two say the
lines."

"When they are not smooth, they are my actors.  Need I remind you that
you have a half interest in this venture?"

"No, I think about it every time I see one of your people being
careless with a candle or lamp.  More theaters burn down than anything
else.  I wish you would caution them again."

"You are always like this before an opening."

"Always!  This is only the second play I have written myself.  What if
they hate it?"

"They won't hate it.  It's a comedy."

"What if they don't laugh?"

"They will laugh until the tears roll down their cheeks.  It's too bad
we can't say who really wrote it.  People keep asking to meet you."

"You mean they want to meet Monsieur Encrier."

"Yes, the rumor is that you are some sort of recluse or invalid."

"I would encourage them in that belief, then.  Whatever else people may
say of me, that my father bought me a title, that I married Tony
because I was at my last gasp, they must never know I am Encrier.  Tony
would never forgive me."

"Have they really said all those things of you?"

"Yes, I hear them whispering in the library and the shops.  Makes me
glad we don't go out much."

"I hope you have the sense not to credit such gossip."

"That does not keep it from hurting, for Tony must be hearing the same
or worse."

"Your problem is you have fallen in love with that husband of yours.
You don't care about the play anymore."  "What is wrong with my loving
Tony?"

"He takes you away from me, child, the man who has always loved you,
nurtured your love from a tiny bud into its full flower.  I taught you
how to love, and you betray me like this."

"That's from Chansons d'amour, but I can't quite remember what act."

"Those were my favorite lines," Armand said fondly, "but no less true
in this case.  He has turned your head away from your true calling."

"I can't help loving him.  Evidently his father left things in a
terrible mess, with many debts, and Tony must see what he can do to
mend matters.  The devil of it is, he won't share his troubles with me
or his mother, as though we are helpless females, of no use to him.
It's not true."

"You don't have to convince me of that.  How often have you saved my
skin?"

"It has been exciting knowing you, working on the plays, but the time
may come when I cannot help you.  You do know that?"

"Not increasing, are you?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"What is the matter with the fellow?"

"He has a lot on his mind," Sera said defensively.  "I haven't much
time.  We have to decide what we are doing about these costumes.  Shall
we order the rest from Madame

Gilbert?  I can advance the money for them."

"That would speed things up."

"If Marie has finished the measurements, I'll do it tomorrow."

Sera was going up and down a ladder arranging her books with such
concentration she did not hear the footsteps in the hall.  Suddenly
someone thrust the library door open and shouted "Sera!"  so abruptly
she overbalanced with her heavy armload, and not even by dropping them
could she save herself from falling.

Tony lunged across the room and caught her, his sudden rush of panic
giving way to relief when she landed safely in his arms.  He marveled
at what a light bundle she made.

"You scarcely weigh anything," he said, as he stood her on her feet,
feeling strangely reluctant to let go of her.  "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Sera said breathlessly, rather enjoying Tony's arms around her.
"Youwyou surprised me.  I thought just for a moment you were your
father."

"But why?  He's dead," Tony said, holding her at arm's length to look
at her.

"I know.  You just sounded so like him.  What did you want?"

Tony looked at her face, still pale from her fright.  "I forgot," he
said, instead of complaining of the cook, as he had intended.  "You
should not be doing this."  He kissed the top of her head so that she
would not take this as a rebuff.

"I don't mind.  Everyone else is so busy."

"Let me do the high ones," he offered, stooping to pick up the fallen
volumes.

As she handed up armload after armload of books, he was surprised to
note the scope of her interest.  "Have you read all these?"

"Not all of them.  Sometimes they sound more interesting before you get
your hands on them.  What do you read?"  "The newspaper.  You write a
lot of letters, too."

"Yes, I have five regular correspondents, mostly acquaintances of
Father's who, for one reason or another, do not come to London.  This
is not, after all, the center of the universe."

"Your father's friends?  Men?"

"Yes," she said ruefully.  "Mostly older than him.  Old people know so
much more than young people, if one only knows how to talk to them."

"You find old people interesting."

"Yes.  Your mother, though she is not so very old, has a wealth of
information."

"Mother?"

"Yes, I know whatever household puzzle has me thwarted can be solved by
her, for she has encountered it before."

"I had no idea."

"I admire her all the more for having managed so well without your
father ever realizing the difficulty of her tasks.  Don't look so
blank.  I realize men have no idea what all manner of domestic crises
may come along, from a pregnant kitchen maid to a drunken--"

Tony swung on her so abruptly he almost came off the ladder.

"What is it?"  she asked.

One searching look, and he realized she was not taunting him.  "Have we
got a pregnant kitchen maid?"  he asked.  "No, not here.  We have one
at Oak Park, though."

"What did you do about it?"  Tony asked, in spite of himself.

"Mother said we must take her to the magistrate.  She swore to the name
of the man, and we had him arrested.

I'm surprised you didn't hear about it."

"Joshua Trent?"

"Yes.  He was induced to marry by the threat of prison, held over him
by Lady Amanda.  She may be a dab of a woman, but she is quite
formidable when in a state of outrage.  As the fellow has steady
employment, there was no reason he could not support the girl and her
babe."  Sera turned to pick up another stack of books, and Tony knit
his brows in puzzlement.  He had been somewhat dazed for months after
his father's death.  Was there so much going on that merely passed over
his head?  Did.  Sera and his mother actually shield him from such
annoyances?

"This is the last of them.  The other crate goes on the lower shelves.
I can manage."

"Yes, I'm sure you can, but I shall help you all the same."

Tony kept at the arduous task of arranging all the volumes under Sera's
scrupulous direction.  Sera was pleased that he often paused in his
work to browse a volume.  If Tony could be brought to love her books as
much as she did, they would have a comfortable life, at least.  She had
no idea he was looking for something in particular.

They had not many callers in Marsham Street, although Marissa Falcrest
had left a card.  As Tony said, it was an out-of-the-way place. Winwood
Cairnbrooke, Tony's cousin, dropped by.  He was just back from a visit
with his mother in Paris, where, he admitted, he had overstayed his
welcome.  He was tall and thin, with unruly brown hair.  As he seated
himself in the morning room and crossed his legs, he said, "Tony, the
on-dit is that you are a pretty dangerous fellow.  Were you really
kicking up a dust in Brighton only because young Wentworth spoke to
Serafina on the street?  The boy's just out of school, you know, and
hardly fair game for a ruthless rogue like yourself."

Tony moaned, and Sera smiled.

"If I didn't know you so well, I would have had my qualms about
calling," Winwood said, balancing a cup and saucer on his bony knee.
"You don't want to let it get about you are a jealous husband.  Makes
everyone uneasy," he said, with a wink to Tony.

"But I'm not!"  Tony protested, contrasting himself with Lord Vonne,
just as Win intended.

Sera raised an amused eyebrow.

"I mean..."  Tony was struggling.

"That tears it," said Win.  "Say no more, or you will be in the suds.
Only tell me if I may call with impunity."

"Of course you may call," Tony began, then looked uncertainly at
Sera.

Sera laughed at them both.  "Of course you may call.  You are one of
the family."

"What did you think of Win?"  Tony asked Sera after his cousin had
left.

"Charming and amusing.  He is taking us to the theater tonight.  Is
that all right with you?"

"Of course, but if you want to go, I can take you."  "You may come,
too."  "What do you go to see?"

"Lady Mellefieur's Boudoir."

"I already saw that one."

"So have I. What do you think of it?"  era asked, as casually as she
could.

"As I remember, it was very funny, but I wasn't quite myself at the
time."

"Come with us, then."

"Even Win cannot get you good seats on such short notice."

"Are you forgetting?  I know the manager."  "Travesian?"

"Yes, he owns the Agora."

"I don't know that I like you seen with that man in public."

"Why, Tony!  You're a snob!"

"It isn't that, but to be seen in his box..."

"I have been seen in his box a hundred times.  It's too late to be
worrying over such trifles.  Are you coming?"  "No, I have an
appointment."  "Very well."

Win was invited to dine before the theater.  Sera particularly wanted
the dinner to be perfect, since Win was Tony's cousin.

"This turkey tastes smoked," Tony said in surprise as he sampled a
fricassee.

Lady Amanda glanced in alarm at Sera.

"Yes, isn't Mrs.  Teale marvelous?"  Sera said, helping herself to a
generous portion.  "I can't recall ever having such a dish before."  Do
you like it?"

"Yes, it's very good," Tony offered approvingly.

Lady Amanda gave a secret little smile of relief when she recalled the
fire in the kitchen, the cook in tears, and Sera wading into the fray,
recommending her to pull herself together and salvage what she could.

Sera had also ordered Up the best wines they had, to make up for any
deficiency in the dinner.  Win seemed to approve all the choices with a
nod at Rayburn, and he kept up such a flow of small talk that Sera did
not think he noticed much what he ate.

When they were preparing to leave, she thought Tony teetered on the
brink of coming with them, but he saw them off sadly, as though he had
a disagreeable task before him that evening.  Sera puzzled over his
absences the whole of the ride to the theater.  She had already got to
the point where she could tune out Win's conversation, and she only
half listened to the banter he kept up with Lady Amanda.

Tony had not had the look of a man about to go meet his mistress.  He'd
been neither excited nor guilty.  He'd seemed more like one about to
spend a boring evening somewhere.  Sera could only conclude that his
enforced avoidance of her company was his way of keeping a distance
between them.  How long he meant to keep this up, she could not say,
nor did she know the cause for his reserve, but there was nothing she
could do about it.

It was the last week for Lady Mellefieur to run, and Sera did want to
see it one last time.  She was not alone in liking it well enough to
watch it over and over again.  She could recognize a dozen faces in the
various boxes who had laughed over the play more than one night that
she had been there.  Of those in the pit she took no notice.  If she
had, she would have realized that she was attracting a deal of
attention, but this might be because Winwood was nodding to his
acquaintances.  No one had ever been bold enough 'to visit Sera's box
before, not with Marie's disapproving chaperonage, not even if Lady
Jane was with them.

But it seemed Winwood invited company by his very presence.  Or perhaps
his presence made it appropriate for gentlemen to call on them.  At any
rate, they were visited by a half score of equally vacant young men in
their early twenties, most of whom Lady Amanda knew and talked to in a
motherly way, asking after their families in a whisper, so as not to
talk over the actors.

Lady Falcrest brought her mother-in-law, Victoria Fal crest, to their
box during the first intermission, and seated her by Lady Amanda for a
comfortable chat, while she sat by Sera.

"This is the first season we have taken a box at the Agora, and I must
say I like this play so well I could see it every night," Marissa
said.

"Why, thank you-- I mean, I'm so glad," Sera replied.  "We have known
Tony a long time," Marissa confided.  "I simply wanted to say how happy
we are for him to be settled finally, and with someone we like-- That
sounded awful of me Not that we have any say in Tony's life, but he
almost seems like family."

"I'm so glad Tony has you for friends.  Was last year very bad for
him?"

"Yes, too much fell on him at once.  Clive and Jason did what they
could to help search for his brother, but to no avail.  I think the
uncertainly of Charlie's fate very nearly drove Tony over the edge."

"His father was no help, I take it."

"He did not get on well with his father, I can tell you that," Marissa
whispered, so that Lady Amanda would not hear.

"No?"

"Mostly over Charlie.  Now, he was an expensive son."  "Oh, you mean
Charlie's commission."

"No, that was a trifle.  I mean his gaming debts.  Tony was forever
pulling him out of one scrape or another.  It's as well Charlie never
came back.  He was in debt up to his ears with the moneylenders."

"I wish he had lived no matter what he had done.  He and Tony were very
close."

"We all wished he had lived when we saw what his death did to Tony, but
you would have had to pay his debts."  "Charlie might have changed."

"I suppose men do, sometimes, but never for the better."  Sera could
not help smiling at this, and she made a mental note to quote Marissa
in her next play, if she could work it in.

She was pleased that Marissa, like Lady Amanda, got all the jokes and
did not talk during the play.  The second intermission brought a new
coterie of visitors, including William and Clive Falcrest, who were
severely reprimanded for being late.

"I am glad to see you have stayed with your mare," William confided to
Sera.  "You worried me 'on that great red brute."

"He was a present for Tony, but I wanted to try him to see how he would
go."

"Why was Tony riding after you?  "Clive asked.

"He saw us leave the stableyard.  He doesn't usually get up so
early."

"I'll wager he does now," Clive said with a wink.

"Yes, and he quite likes Satin, now that he has tried him."

"Who would not?"  Marissa demanded.  "He is a beautiful animal.  I am
organizing an expedition to call on you as soon as I can gather my
troops.  When are you likely to be home?"

"Most afternoons.  I will look forward to it."

When the Falcrests had gone back to their own box, Sera's young
acquaintance from Brighton, Wentworth, presented himself, as though he
had been standing in the hall waiting his turn.

Again she made introductions, and Win, who had no more than raised an
eyebrOw at the Falcrests, seemed strangely cold to Wentworth.

"I simply came to offer my apology if I caused any prOblem-- I mean
re

"Not necessary?"  Sera said generously, "and Tony has promised not to
call you out."

Wentworth's eyes bulged, and Win looked intrigued.

"I'm joking, of course.  Tony is not in the habit of dueling.  It is an
event he would like to forget."

"I should think so-- That ism"

"It is forgotten, along with our encounter on the Marine Parade.  You
may call on us, if you like.  We are on Marsham Street."

"Yes, I know.  I will call," Wentworth said happily, and left.

"Quite a court you have built for yourself," Win told Sera admiringly.
"Usually that doesn't happen until the third or fourth year of a
marriage."

He said it with his arch smile, but Sera could not help taking it as a
cut.  She was glad the curtain rose on the final act so that she did
not have to answer him.  She began to wonder if Tony had sent Winwood
along with her as a watchdog.  If Tony wanted to make sure of her, he
should come with her himself.

When the play was over, Travesian came to the box, and Winwood was
shocked to see the theater manager on such intimate terms with Sera and
Lady Amanda.  Sera sensed this, and invited Travesian to dinner the
following night, since it would not be a performance night.  Lady
Amanda seconded the invitation so sincerely Winwood scowled.  Sera was
happy to annoy him.

Sera and Amanda discussed the play on the way home.  It was the first
time Lady Amanda had seen it.  Win was strangely silent.

"Thank you for the dinner yesterday," Winwood said as he greeted Tony
at Boodle's.

Tony looked up tiredly from counting his winnings.  "There's no need to
thank me.  You have dined at my house many times."

"I know you must have inherited, your father's cellars, but you don't
have to serve everything of the best just for me," Win continued.  "The
wine alone must have set you back considerably, not counting the feast.
I shouldn't like to wreck your household accounts."

"My household accounts are the," Tony said uncertainly, beginning to
wonder if he had anything to fear in that quarter.

"Oh, well, then, I won't worry over it," Win said brightly.  "Do you
wish for a game of piquet?"

"What would be the point of--I mean, I am rather bored with cards.  I
have been playing all day."

"As you choose.  By the by, if I were you, I would speak to Sera about
some of those people she consorts with.  Nothing wrong with the
Falcrests, of course, except that Marissa.  I cannot like her.  She is
too bold for a woman.  I'm afraid Sera will ape her.  Then there is
that fellow Wentworth, whom I can't like, even if he is a schoolboy."

"Wentworth?  Oh, him," Tony said in relief.  "No one will take him
seriously.""

"He may stutter like a boy in Sera's presence, but people only see him
worshiping her.  Do you really think she should be setting up a
flirtation so early in your marriage?"

"Sera?  Flirtatious?  You must be misreading the situation, Win.  Sera
isn't like that."

"You must know," Win said casually.  "She is your wife.

But the theater owner--what's his name?"

"Travesian."

"I would put a stop to that.  He is far too intimate with your wife.
Sera actually invited him to dine."  "He has dined with us before."
"With your approval?"

"Not exactly, but I suppose Sera may invite whomever she likes."

"If you're not careful, you may be sitting down with a tableful of
actors, But I suppose you know your business."

"Sera, I want to speak to you," Tony said, as he entered the room Sera
had taken over as her library.

"Yes," she said expectantly, but since Tony stood at the open door, she
took it he wanted to speak to her somewhere else.  He conducted her to
the small room he used as a study and drew up a chair for her beside
his desk.  There was a ledger open on it, and some sheets of figures
were lying about.  Sera had been braced for some such interview, and
had laid her defenses well.

"It's about the household accounts."

"But Rayburn keeps those.  He did offer to, and I thought it would be
more convenient, so that he could pay everyone, unless ... unless you
think I should be doing it," she said with a good imitation of
uncertainty.

"No, not if you don't wish to.  But.  how are we able to afford dinners
such as last night without racking up tremendous bills at the provision
ersT

"Oh, do you think we are?"  Sera asked innocently.  "I have not
received any bills."

"Then everything must be all right.  I did put a small sum into
Rayburn's hands for convenience' sake, in case we should need anything
special."

"You should not have done so."

"Oh, Tony, never say he is not to be trusted, for he has never asked to
have the amount replenished."  Sera neglected to mention that the small
amount was a hundred pounds.

"Yes, of course he can be trusted."

"Then I can only think that Mrs.  Teale is a very efficient shopper.
Her cooking is improving, too, did you notice?  Once she got over being
in awe of you."

"In awe of me?"  Tony asked in confusion, wondering how they had
strayed so far from the point.

"Because you are a lord."

"I meant you shouldn't be spending your pin money on the household.  I
should, in fact, be making you an allowance."

"But there is so little for me to buy," Sera said, quite truthfully. "I
don't need any more clothes.  That only leaves books, and you know
where that can lead."

"Yes, I know," drawled Tony, pondering Sera's amazing library.

"Is there anything else?"  she asked, eager to get back to her
correspondence.

"No-- Yes.  Win said you had a deal of company visiting Travesian's box
last night."

"Yes, some of Win's friends stopped to visit, and the Falcrests."

"Anyone else?"

"Yes, young Wentworth.  He is still rather in awe of you, no matter
what I say," Sera replied thoughtfully.

Tony smiled at Sera's lack of artifice.  "I'm glad you had a pleasant
evening."  On that score, at least, Tony thought he could rest easy.

"Did Travesian stop by, as well?"

"Yes, it was the last performance of Lady Mellefieur's Boudoir.  Next
week he opens The Count Recounts.  We invited him to dinner tonight to
celebrate such a successful

"If it's a special occasion, then..."

"Whatever do you mean?  You don't want him here?"

"I only worry that he may hurt your chances of being accepted into
society."

"But if the Falcrests mean to take me up, I should think there can be
no problem.  Besides, people are much more likely to invite Travesian
to their homes than me, the daughter of a 'cit.""

"I was forgetting about your low past, my dear," Tony said with a wry
smile.

Sera laughed.

"It's not funny," Tony said, tinning his lips and trying to turn the
discussion serious again.  "I simply don't want my wife consorting with
theater people."

"I have been consorting with Armand Travesian since I was fifteen. He's
almost like an uncle, and one who has vastly improved my view of the
world."

"I won't ask what that means," Tony said ominously.

"Because you have a closed mind, or because you would like to pretend
you do," Sera teased.  "When actually you are dying with curiosity to
know what all he has taught me."

"I am not!"  vowed Tony, refusing to be pulled into such a
discussion.

"Very well, I will not tell you," said Sera, putting away for later all
the juicy tidbits she had been concocting.

"After this dinner, I do not want to meet that man in this house
again," Tony said firmly.

"Very well, I will tell him not to call when you are home."

"I meant that I do not want you to meet him here, either."

"Then I will tell him not to call when I am home."

"But what would be the point of him calling at all, then?"  Tony asked
in confusion.

"You don't suppose he comes here to see me, do you?"  Sera had
surprised Tony, and he stared at her.  "It's Lady

Amanda who is the attraction."

"Mother?"

"Yes, of course.  She is charming and witty and has a vast interest in
the theater.  Travesian is forever trying new lines on her to see if
they are funny."

"Mother?"

"She may be your mother, Tony, but she is still a woman, and a rather
attractive one, even in her sober widow's garb.  I think you had better
get used to the idea that she may remarry someday."  She took advantage
of the disorder into which she had thrown Tony to rise and make her
escape.

"Travesian is causing talk, no matter who he comes here to see."

Sera turned, her hand on the doorknob.  "The only one who talks about
Annand is Winwood.  I can see why Win would be jealous of Armand and,
being Win, why he would go behind his back to get at him rather than
say something to his face.  It does surprise me that you listen to such
drivel."

Sera opened the door and left then, smirking a little at Tony's
paralysis and plotting what she would do to Win for carrying tales
about her.  The very idea of having Win snitch on her like a schoolboy
made her vow to' give him a sharp set down next time they met.

Tony's interview with Rayburn went much the same as the one with Sera,
except that the man appeared to take umbrage and offered to give up his
accounts for examination.  Tony had either to refuse this offer or risk
calling the man a liar.  Tony dismissed him then, knowing full well he
had been duped by both of them, but helpless to know what to do about
it.  Six months ago he might have contentedly assumed that everything
was under control, but he now had some idea what things cost, and he
vowed to find a way to increase the house allowance to avoid any future
embarrassment.

Dinner was not an entirely comfortable affair that night.  Both Sera
and Lady Amanda talked quite openly to Travesi-an of the new play, thus
excluding Tony and Win, who both looked disapproving.  Sera stared
raptly at Travesian as he put away an enormous quantity of food without
seeming at all uncouth.

Travesian was the only man she had ever encountered who could eat and
talk at the same time without losing his attraction.  There was
something about the determined grinding of his jaws, the way he paused
to think with fork or knife raised for emphasis.  He was acting, of
course.  It was such a part of him that Sera wondered if there really
was an Armand underneath.  Sera was disappointed that Tony was copying
Win's attitude of boorish ness instead of being good-humored, as he had
when.  the Barclays dined there with Travesian.

Win interrupted a discussion of sets to offer to take them to Covent
Garden Theater.  Sera cold-shouldered him with such a scathing
criticism of the play he proposed taking them to see that he gaped at
her.  Even Lady Amanda said it was not the sort of performance a lady
should attend.

Travesian smirked through all this, and excused himself directly after
dinner.  They had very nearly talked through everything he wanted to
discuss with Sera, anyway, and any other details he could convey
through Marie, who was helping with the costumes.

Once Travesian left the field, Win shrugged and went off with Tony,
leaving Sera and Amanda to spend the evening alone.  Sera was not
averse to this.  If she could not be with Tony, she would as soon be
with Lady Amanda as anyone.  Her mother-in-law usually sewed or knitted
contentedly as Sera answered her letters.  Sera occasionally read
amusing bits from her correspondence, and asked Lady Amanda's opinion
of her responses.  But tonight Lady Amanda only pretended to sew, and
occasionally rose to pace to the street window and look out.

"You seem agitated tonight, dear ma'am.  Is something amiss?"

"It's only that I begin to worry about Tony."

Sera looked sadly at her.

"I am not dense," Lady Amanda said.  "I know you have been worded about
him for some time now.  Where do you suppose he goes at night?"

"I am afraid to ask him, and I beg you not to do so, either."

"You don't suppose he is..."

Sera waited, in some amusement, to hear how her mother-in-law would
phrase it.

"You don't suppose he has taken to gambling, do you?"  Lady Amanda made
it sound such an evil thing, it made Sera smile.

"If only that is all it is."

"You don't understand, dear.  Between Charlie and Edwin, cards and dice
have very nearly ruined us."

"And you think Tony is succumbing to this same vice?"  "I don't know.
What other explanation--?  I mean--" "I'm trying to decide which I
would rather have, Tony running himself into debt at the gaming table
or sitting in Lady Vonne's pocket.  Neither has much appeal."

"Surely he would never go to her again, would he?"  "He's not afraid of
Vonne, more's the pity.  But I think if he were running into debt in
that way, we would have heard some such gossip, if not from Lady Jane,
then from Win, who is the worst talebearer."

"Win would never betray Tony."

Sera's pen was arrested.  "I hope not," was all she said.  "It's not
something I feel I can ask Tony about without bringing on an explosion,
and we have been getting on rather well lately."

"Still, I wish we could go back to Oak Park.  It might be dull there,
but at least it is not dangerous."

"I don't think Tony is like Charlie or his father.  I begin to trust
Tony."

"You must trust him.  You are his wife."

"I trust him for no good reason that I can think of, except that I know
he is not lying to me.  I am not going to put him in a position where
he feels he must do so."

"I'm sure you know best, my dear.  You are managing far better than I
ever did."

"Only because I have you to advise me.  I know it is unfashionable to
dote on your mother-in-law, but I shudder to think what my life would
be like without you here."  Sera rose, gave her a kiss on the cheek.
"Come, we will go to bed early and do a round of shopping tomorrow.
That always cheers you up."

In spite of her plan to catch up on her sleep, Sera awoke near midnight
with the most marvelous idea for another scene.  She threw on her
dressing gown, lit a candle and got out her writing paper.  She was
still scribbling away when she heard Tony come up the stairs, and was
surprised by a soft knock on her door.

"Come in, please."

"I thought I saw a light from the street.  About tonight..."

"It was awful, wasn't it?"  Sera asked ruefully.

"I would not like to spend too many dinners like that."  Tony closed
the door and seated himself on the upholstered bench at the foot of the
bed.

"It was my fault, not Travesian's," Sera confessed as she got up and
came to sit next to him.  "Win would not talk to him at all, so I had
to keep the conversation going.  If it had been one of Father's
dinners, I could have talked of finance or politics.  Travesian is
quite well-informed on that."

"But Win isn't."  Tony guessed at her thoughts, and made her smile.

"Is there anything Win is well-informed on?"

"Nothing leaps to mind, yet he does generally hold his own in a
conversation," Tony admitted.

"Father always invited Travesian or some other actor or artist, even a
poet, to leaven the company and keep things from being too boring."

"Did it work?"

"Yes.  If nothing else, it united the table in disapproval of someone
who did not mind being disapproved of.  If you don't wish it, I won't
invite Travesian anymore."

"I don't want that," he said softly, taking her hand.  "This is your
house, too.  It's not fair for me to expect you to give up your friend
just because he does not mix well with Winwood."

"Travesian can come when we have Father and Lady Jane to dine.  I don't
think Win would mix well with them, either."

Tony laughed, then suddenly turned serious when a thought stuck him.
"Did you once tell me you entertained Rothschild at-your father's
house?"

"Yes, twice.  Father had some business with him.  There were two other
bankers and their wives, as well."

"Is Rothschild married, then?"

"Yes.  I rather like his wife.  I hope Lady Jane takes up the
connection.  You don't want people to think you only invite them
because of business."  "Even if it is true?"  "Especially if it's
true."

"Would you consider him ruthless?"

"Rothschild?  It's a little hard to tell just from having dined with
him.  Rothschild would be a difficult man to get to know socially.  By
reputation I must confess to a grudging respect for him."

"Based on what?"

"He did stand behind the government throughout the war.  I truly
believe we would not have won without Rothschild's resources to fall
back on.  And he knew how to work things, getting the gold to
Wellington, no matter where the army was.  I suppOse what I admire so
much is not his constancy, but his ingenuity."

"I find nothing to admire about him."  Tony released her hand with a
dark look.

"He did back the country to the hilt," Sera insisted, even if it put an
end to their small intimacy.  "If we had lost, he would not have gotten
his money back."

"You see him as a hero?  If we had lost, he might be in a much worse
case than the rest of us.  It's not difficult to know which way to bet,
when there is only one game."

"I hadn't thought of that.  You still blame him for what happened to
your father?"

"Yes, but it appears to be impOssible to find out anything about it. It
only happened last year, and no one tells the same story about it.
Either Rothschild knew and told the government and then began to buy
stocks.  The price rose by points in a few days.  Or, there was a panic
that morning.  I've talked to two men who say Rothschild dumped stocks
that morning, then bought later.  Then-there is the account by the
French journalist.  It is the most damning."  Tony rose and began to
pace.

"Why would a Frenchman even bother to write about the British
market?"

"I don't know, but I'll find the truth, no matter what it takes."

"There is an easy way to find out."

"What?"

"Ask Rothschild.  If he has nothing to hide, he will tell you as though
it is a very good joke.  If he does have something to hide, you will
see his eyes glaze over as though he is drawing the shutters closed on
a house."

"It may come to that, but I should not like to play that card too
early."

"Tony, if you do find out something, what can you do?"

"If he manipulated the market, there could be laws passed against such
a thing."

"I thought you wren't interested in a political career."

"I find I begin to interest myself in a lot of things," Tony said.  "I
had better let you get some rest."

Sera stood up and began to put her papers away, wondering if there was
any way she could invite Tony to stay without sounding desperate.  She
looked wistfully at him as he let himself out the door, but it was not
enough to hold him.  It had been one of their longer talks and, even
though it had been amiable enough, she supposed a man did not leap from
financial intrigues into his wife's bed, especially if he had never
been there before.  Still, it was a step closer, him confiding in her
like that.  Eventually he might tell her all.

Lady Amanda and Marie often abandoned Sera at Hookham's, if she looked
to be overly distracted by 'the newspapers.  She was deep in
concentration over these one morning, scarcely aware how long they had
been gone, when she heard Tony's voice.

"You got them, then?"  he asked Mr.  Dean.

"Yes, a German dictionary, and a Hebrew one--and that was not all that
easy to come by."

"How much?"

"Five pounds and ten."

Sera was puzzling less over Tony's strange selection of reading matter
than over her own hesitancy to call out to him.  She was remembering
his previous accusation of spying on him.  Somehow she did not feel the
sort of possessiveness that would have commanded Tony to her side.  It
was a small thing, yet it bothered her that she was so fearful of
irritating him in public.  By the time his purchases had been wrapped,
she roused herself to get up and go to him.  "Hello, Tony."

"Sera!  You here?  I mean, you here alone?"

"Marie is coming back for me.  At least that's what I think they
said."

"Well, I shall wait with you until they do.  You should not be going
about alone."  He took her arm, a little nervously, Sera thought, and
they walked up and down the street.  She restrained herself from
noticing the package he was at such pains to keep from her.  It
reminded her of their first walk on the Marine Parade, when it had been
so hard to think of things to say to him.  Finally Marie came for her,
like a nursemaid sent after a lost child, and Tony left them.

Lady Vonne's carriage had been pulled up across the street while her
maid ran an errand for her.  Win had gotten in to discuss Lady
Parmiter's latest affair.  "Our Tony is becoming quite the dutiful
husband," he observed, nodding in Tony's direction.

"How could he?"  Madeleine asked, watching Tony and Sera taking leave
of one another.

"Done up, for one thing.  Don't worry.  He's only married her for her
money."

"How do you know so much?"

"I'm his cousin, for one thing.  Until he got married, I was in danger
of inheriting that mountain of debt."

"You still are, until he has some sons."

"Yes, I wonder if he'll manage it."

"Tony?"

"I was thinking of Sera.  She's a very cold fish."

"She struck me that way, too.  Poor Tony."

"Yes, poor Tony."

The next day's mail brought an invitation for Sera and Lady Amanda to a
recital and tea at Lady Parmiter's.  It seemed short notice, but Sera
replied that they would attend.  Indeed, they were welcomed graciously
by their hostess.  The other dozen guests included Lady Marissa
Falcrest and Elizabeth Weir.  Sera could not help looking wistfully at
the fair Elizabeth as Marissa played the pianoforte.  Elizabeth smiled
at her and moved to the sofa by Sera and Lady Amanda.  "My mother
thinks it disgraceful that I still go about," but I feel so good it
seems a shame to stay at home."  "Why should You not go about?"  Sera
asked.

"I think I make people uncomfortable, they stare so."

"If I was staring, it was with envy.  You look beautiful pregnant."

"That is what Jason says, and somehow he makes me believe it?"

"But it's true."

"I must agree with him, child," Lady Amanda assured her.  "I have
scarcely seen such a rosy bloom in anyone's cheeks."

They were just getting down to the tea when Madeleine arrived with one
of her gentlemen friends.  Sera neither choked nor flushed, but
accepted the introduction with a good grace.  Sera noticed that
Madeleine was wearing neither of the hats she had been goaded into
buying, and wondered if she had figured that bit out.

Madeleine sat down haughtily and accepted a cup of tea, but no cake.
"And how is Tony?"  she asked pointedly.

Lady Amanda gasped, and Lady Parmiter glanced speculatively in Sera's
direction.

"Fully recovered," Sera said brightly, taking another sip.  "And how is
Lord Vonne?"

"Fine.  You do not resent Vonne having shot Tony?"  "Under the
circumstances, I take it he had no choice.  But then, Tony was not
quite himself.  Losing his brother in that way very nearly unhinged
him."

Madeleine stiffened at the implication that he had been insane to have
an affair with her.

Elizabeth looked from one to the other with worry in her blue eyes.

"I suspect Tony did not much care if he was killed," Sera continued. "I
take it very kindly that Vonne only wounded him."

"Lucky for Tony," Madeleine returned.

"I am sure luck had nothing to do with it," Elizabeth offered.  "Surely
your husband is not a murderer."

"How do you know what--" Madeleine recalled there were other people
present, and subsided.

"You have a little boy, don't you?"  Elizabeth asked, to give the
conversation a less dangerous bent.

"Yes, David.  He is three, and quite intelligent."

"He must be a joy to you," Elizabeth said.  MariSsa Falcrest came over
to inquire about David, as well, and the crisis passed.  Elizabeth
smiled at Sera.  They were adroit, these Falcrest women, and Sera was
grateful to them for turning aside what might have been a dangerous
encounter.

The only good thing about the day was having faced down Lady Vonne.
After actually talking to her, Sera felt she would be able to meet her
anywhere without embarrassment, though why she should feel embarrassed
was beyond her.  It was Lady Vonne who had been unfaithful to her
husband.

The bad thing about getting to know Lady Vonne was realizing the
attraction she possessed.  She was so utterly helpless and dependent,
she awoke the sort of compassion in men that Sera would have scorned.
If such posturing and pettishness really appealed to Tony, then Tony
would never be happy with her, because she would never stoop to such
nonsense.

Madeleine was also petite, with blond curls cropped and tossed in last
year's style.  Sera supposed some men might find her attractive, but
that Tony obviously did was very disturbing.  There was also the
flirting, that nerve-racking laugh, dripping with allure.  It was
almost like a perfume, and seemed to be turning the head of the man
Madeleine currently had in tow.

Sera went on enumerating Madeleine's faults to herself on the way home
in the carriage, then suddenly laughed.  She, Sera Barclay, was
jealous, terribly jealous.  But she was already married to Tony.  And
here she was acting like a lovelorn chit with no chance at him.  No
matter where he went at night, he always came home.  Eventually he
would come home to her.

"I said, what is so funny?"  demanded Lady Amanda, finally capturing
Sera's attention.

"What?  Oh, nothing.  Marissa Falcrest has invited us to call again,
and they will definitely be home tomorrow.  Would you like to come with
me?"

"Yes, I want to thank them for rescuing you.  Did they do it for Tony's
sake?  They scarcely even know you."

"It's my guess they would have thrown themselves into the breach of any
social disaster, no matter who was the victim."

"Perhaps you are right.  The whole family has a particular fondness for
TonY.  When Charlie disappeared at Waterloo, they helped search for him
in all the hospitals.  Clive even went to Brussels with Tony to try to
find some trace of him."

"And they never did?"

"No, young Elizabeth was particularly distraught.  I think she must
have been in love with Charlie.  I'm so glad she married, for she looks
to be completely happy now."

"She is so beautiful, you don't expect her to be sweet, as well.  I
like Marissa and Victoria, too."

"I have known the mother, Victoria Falcrest, for decades.  I had always
hoped that I would have a daughter-in-law who got along with me as well
as Marissa does with

Victoria."

"And have you?"

"You know I have," she said, patting Sera's hand.

Lady Amanda and Sera were glad that they had delayed long enough for
Lady Jane to call and offer to accompany them.  They were' not so
fortunate in that Win presented himself just as they were stepping into
the carriage.  They had no choice but to invite him along and listen to
him complain in advance and at length about the dullness of morning
calls.

"Why do you pay so many, then?"  Lady Jane demanded, with a flounce of
her curls.  "I run into you everywhere."

"It is the fashion to be bored," Win replied.  "And I am always in
fashion."

"Hallo, Sera," Marissa Falcrest called from the desk in the large
morning room, where she had been working over a list.  She bent her
head to it again, letting her dark curls fall over her shoulders.

"Marissa, if you had any manners," chided Victoria, "you would get up
and greet your guests.  Amanda," she said as she kissed her cheek.
'"And you have.  brought Janey with you, as well as Sera.  Please sit
down.  Is Tony behaving himself?."

Winwood guffawed as Sera gaped.  "Yes, I mean, so far as I know That
is..."  Sera perched on the edge of a chair, looking toward Elizabeth
for help.

"Don't answer Mother," Elizabeth advised from her chair by the window
as she laid aside her sewing "She is forever complaining of our
manners, then asks questions like that."

"It's like asking a man if he has stopped beating his wife," Marissa
agreed.  "I would have given her a frosty stare."

"Well, if Madeleine had asked," Sera conceded, "I would have said that
Tony was being quite wicked, only to bother her."

"Wonderful!"  Marissa said, with her deep chuckle.  "It would leave her
wondering with whom-- Don't stand by the door, Winwood.  You look like
a disapproving butler."

"I didn't know I would be thrown into a flock of women.  Who knows what
awful things you might fall to discussing?"

"We have done with pregnancy and infants for today, so you are
moderately safe," Elizabeth said.

"What do you say to a masquerade party, Winwood?  Is it out of fashion
or in?"  Marissa demanded, her pen poised over her list.

"A party or a ball?"

"A party."

"Your list has over fifty couples on it already," Victoria pointed out
accusingly.  "With that many, it is a ball."  "Well, Winwood?"  Lady
Jane asked.

"One can either be a follower of fashion, like Lady Jane, or a maker of
fashion, like Lady Falcrest," he said with a bow.

"Well said, Winwood," Marissa acknowledged.  "I shall add your name to
the list.  You are all coming, of course.  You have exactly one month
to think of a costume."

"I still do not think we should be entertaining," Victoria said,
"considering Elizabeth's delicate condition."  "Mother, I am healthy as
a horse."

"Healthier than many of mine," Marissa agreed.  "You have never thrown
out a spavin or bowed a tendon."

"Not yet, at any rate," Elizabeth agreed with a chuckle.  "We might as
well have been entertaining all season, since Elizabeth has been going
everywhere anyway," Marissa contended.

"Why shouldn't she, if she feels well?"  asked Sera.

"That is what I maintain.  I did give up riding, but I see no need to
miss all the fun."

"I'm not voicing an opinion," Winwood disclaimed when Marissa's eyes
rested on him again.

"But, like most men, you do display a certain shyness around a woman
with child, much like a colt encountering his first hurdle.  Why is
that?"

"Gravity," Winwood answered, surprised into blurting out the truth for
once.

"What?"  asked Lady Amanda.

"That force which causes heavy objects to fall to the ground.  One is
forever feeling that the baby will just-pop out at any moment."

Elizabeth crowed with laughter, along with the others.  "If only it
were that easy.  I assure you it will take a deal of effort to get the
baby out, even when he wants to come."  "How do you know it is a boy?"
Winwood asked.

"I only say it for luck," said Elizabeth, looking down at her stomach.
"I shall be just as happy with a girl."" She took up her sewing again
with a smile.

"It had best he a boy," Victoria advised.  "Any girl raised in this
house will be a harum-scarum little wretch, like Marissa's Amy."

The door opened, and Jason Weir entered, scrutinizing the assemblage
with his one good eye.  He seemed rather relieved to find another man
in attendance, and greeted everyone gallantly before going to sit by
Elizabeth.  "Don't you think you should be resting?"  Jason finally
asked his young wife.

"Why?  Were we going out tonight?"  Elizabeth asked.

"Oh, let Jason carry you upstairs, Elizabeth," Marissa advised, "or we
will have no peace."

Lady Amanda rose to indicate that they were taking their leave, and
invited them to Marsham Street, even as Lady Jane apologized for its
location.  Sera rode home content that she had finally found some
friends.  Winwood condemned Marissa as too hurly-burly.

"Why then did you call her a setter of fashion?"  Sera demanded.

"I didn't say what kind of fashion," Winwood returned.  "It is just
like you, Winwood," Lady Jane said, "to compliment a woman to her face
and cut at her behind her back."

"Everyone talks about everyone else in London."  "Yes I would love to
know what the Falcrests are saying about you," Sera gibed.  It was
enough to send him off in a huff, but Sera held out no hope that he
would stop calling.

Chapter Six

"Brel what?"  Sera demanded, drawing the attention of not only the
actors, but also the carpenter, who stopped pounding.

"He sprained his ankle on the stairs," Travesian explained.

"Well, Christopher Graden will just have to fill in for him.  I know it
will be opening night, but--"

"Who do you think he landed on when he fell?"  "What are the odds
against that?"  Sera asked, sitting abruptly on the front bench, as
though she were stating ruin in the face.  "We've already advertised.
We can't draw back 'now.  How badly is Graden hurt?"

"Broken nose.  We shall have to delay the opening another week, at
least."

"Drury Lane is opening a new play then.  We won't have half the
crowd."

"Unless..."

"Unless what?"  she demanded.  "Unless you played the count's part."
"Me?  Are you mad?"

"You know all the lines.  You should.  You wrote them."  "The count is
a man.  In case you haven't noticed, I am a woman."

"You can do a man's voice.  I have heard you often enough when you are
coaching the actors.  Besides, you do the count's part with more
conviction than either Brel or Graden."

-"Even assuming I could pull it off, they would notice the switch when
Brel is recovered."

"We will tell the truth.  Brel was injured, and an understudy opened
the play."

"But people will recognize me."

"You will be in a Powdered wig and patches.  Under stage makeup, no one
will recognize you."

"The costumes won't fit me."

"Made can take care of that," Travesian promised.  "I can't get away
with it.  Ton.  y will find out."  "He never comes to the
theater--almost never."  "How do you know what he does at night?"

"I don't, but I do know he doesn't spend his evenings hanging about the
Agora."

"This understudy must have a name.  I can't use Graden's."

"That's no problem.  We have  only to fabricate My God!"

"What?"  Sera demanded.

"A stroke of genius!  Sometimes I amaze even myself."  "Tell me."

"You will play the part as Encrier."

"The author?  Why?"

"People have been wanting to meet him.  Now they can hear him say his
own lines.  What a draw it will be!"

"Are you sure both our counts have really been injured?  I wouldn't put
it past you to rope me into one of your schemes with a trick like
this."

"I swear.  I only thought of it this moment."

"No!  Too convoluted.  People would be sure to want me to appear
elsewhere.  I see no end of difficulties With your plan."

"But it's so perfect."

"Nothing is perfect, Armand, least of all your sense of judgment.
Directly you think something is perfect, I see a hundred holes in
it."

"But the irony of it..."

"Would be appreciated by the two of us, and no one else."

"Oh, very well.  I'll think of a name.  Would you like to be French?"

"French 'actors are to be had anywhere," Sera decided, rising from the
bench.  "Make me Italian.  You can say it's my first appearance in
England."

"That would be no lie."

"Damn--I forgot the sword fights."  She whirled to face him.  "That
will take hours of practice to get right, and then there is the dress
rehearsal.  How am I to get away for all these things?  I can dupe my
mother-in-law into thinking I am helping with the costumes, but Tony is
sometimes hard to shake."

"Tell him you are going for fittings.  Nothing bores a man more than
waiting about in the front of a dress shop."  "Worth a try, I
suppose."

"Can you be here tomorrow morning?"

"Afternoons are better, or at night, if we are hard-pressed.  My new
house is so small, it is easy to get in and out of.  Tony never comes
in earlier than two o'clock."

"Tomorrow afternoon, then.  You can practice and rehearse in costume.
Even the actors won't recognize you."

Sera observed that Tony was feeling rather pleased with himself all
through breakfast the next morning.  There was no apparent reason for
his good humor, but then, Sera could never discover any immediate
reason for his bad moods, either.  She only hoped it would last through
their ride.

"It says here the Herbefts are giving a ball," Tony said unexpectedly.
"Are you going?"

Sera looked up at him in surprise.  "Why, no."  "Why not?  Win can take
you, if I am not free."  "I--I haven't been invited."

"Nonsense.  You must have overlooked the invitation," "I don't care to
go, anyway."  "Why not?"

"I wouldn't know anyone except Lady Jane and a few others."

"Oh, well, if you don't care for it," Tony said, believing her.

"Are we going to ride today?"

"Not today.  I have some business to take care of."

"I shall start on my letters, then," she said as she left the table
abruptly, her meal only half-finished.

"I don't know why she married me, if she doesn't wish to go into
society anyway."

"It isn't that she doesn't wish it.  But she isn't invited anymore,"
Lady Amanda said in Sera's defense.  "Except by the Falcrests, and they
don't entertain much."

"What do you mean anymore?"

"She did get some invitations in the beginning, just as I did, but as
we never attended anything and could not reciprocate anyway, people
simply stopped bothering."  "She could have gone with Win."

"We did once or twice, but too much of that causes talk.  Are you aware
that you have never been seen in public with your wife?  People think
you are ashamed of her."  "That's your imagination."  "No, I heard them
talking.".

"Surely Win has never done anything..."

"Of course not, but other people don't know that."

"I can't worry over this now.  I have an important meeting."

Even though Sera had lain down for an hour that afternoon and slept,
she was tiredly picking her way through dinner.  Opening nights made
her queasy even when she was only the author.  To actually have a hand
in the production was tying her nerves in knots.

Tony had been pleased that his hard-earned winnings had brought him
twice their value on a market transaction, but his interview with his
man of business that day was only slightly less unpleasant than their
previous meeting.  He had disliked being complimented on not running
into debt, as though he would, knowing how things stood.  He rightly
resented being treated by old Groober as though he were a witless boy,
when he had been at great pains to get hold of his affairs and try to
improve the situation.  All this turmoil he attempted to hide under a
placid exterior.

"I thought we would go to the opening of The Count tonight," Tony said
over dinner.  "I got us a box."  Tony smiled kindly at Sera.

"What did you say?"  she asked in horror.  "There's a new play opening
at the Agora.  It's--" "I know what it is, but I can't go tonight."
"Why ever not?"

"I--I'm not feeling very well."

"This is rather sudden, isn't it?"  Tony asked angrily.  "In fact, it
only happens when I want to go out."

"What are you talking about?"  Sera asked.  "This is the only time you
have ever re

"And it may be the last, if you play fast and loose with me.  What is
it?  A pressing engagement with someone else?"

Sera flushed.  "No, I told you--I'm feeling ill."

"I can tell when you are lying, Sera."

"You don't even know me that well."  She got up and left the room,
climbed the stairs and resolutely bolted her door.  If she feared Tony
would come and beat it down she was disappointed.  It did give her a
qualm to know he might be in the audience.  But perhaps he would be so
angry he would not go himself.  She knew a momentary fear that he might
stay home, making it impossible for her to get to the theater, but he
had never done this in the whole of their married life.

"I knew she was secretive and cold, but I never thought she was
spiteful," Tony said to his mother.

"Tony, what are you talking about?"

"The fine wife you chose for me."

"But she is ill, which you would know if you paid any attention to her
at all.  She took to her bed this afternoon, which I have never known
her to do, and she scarcely ate any dinner."

"Is that my fault?"

"It is your fault that you shouted at her.  You get more like your
father every day.  And Sera is not cold.  That's only a front she puts
up so that you won't know how much you have hurt her."

"What does she want from me?"

"Precious little, and you don't even give her that.  I am out of all
patience with you."

"How was I supposed to know she would take ill?  I only wanted to
surprise her."

"And it did not work out.  Is that any reason to threaten never to take
her anywhere again?  Why does it always have to be now for you or
never?  If you treat her like that in bedroom.  Oh, Tony, you don't
suppose she is pregnant?"  "Nothing of the sort."

"What do you mean?  How could you know?"  "Never mind that, and stop
interfering between us."  "Sera does not think me meddlesome.  When I
offered to live by myself, she begged me to stay.  Do you know why?"

"I cannot imagine."

"So she would have someone to talk to.  She didn't even realize what an
odd thing it was to say?"

"It is my fault, then," Tony said guiltily.

"No, it is mine," his mother said fondly.  "I was so concerned with
teaching Sera how to go on as your wife, I forgot that you might not
have the smallest notion how to go on as a husband."

"Something tells me that is only to be learned by bitter experience"
Tony said, looking at the ceiling.  "I had best go up and apologize to
her."

"If I were you, I would leave it until she is feeling better.  I can't
take much of you myself, unless I have been fortified with a little
brandy."

With that, Lady Amanda left Tony to his port and some rather somber
reflections on his own behavior.  He tried to convince himself that
everything he did was for Sera, but that was not true.  This passionate
expunging of debt was solely for his own satisfaction, and to clear the
Cairnbrooke name.  He scarcely even thought of Sera when he was playing
cards or working a business deal.

Someday, when he was free of his debt to her, then he could be her
husband.  Until then, it was not to be thought of.  But was his
heedlessness bordering on cruelty?  He had just assumed Sera did not
need him, or anyone, very much..  An only child, she must be used to
being alone.  He tried to imagine her life, but what she did all day,
besides reading and writing those groaningly long letters, he could not
think.

Sera continued to be tired all that week, but she was not the only
worry.  Tony had.  He received a note from Madeleine that raised
Rayburn's eyebrows as he delivered it on a tray, looking for all the
world as though it were a poisonous insect about to strike.  Tony could
not reprimand the man, for that was very much how he regarded the note
himself.  He had received many such summonses last summer, and had
deluded himself into thinking he was in love with the woman.  He took
the letter into his small study and tossed it on the grate unopened.
Then he began to wonder what she wanted, and found that he could not
concentrate on his book work with the letter lying there.  He took it
up with the intention of setting the candle to it, but then he began to
wonder why Madeleine would even write him again.  It crossed his mind
that she might be pregnant with his child.  She did look to be taking
on weight and, with his luck, that was just the sort of thing that
would happen after a single night's encounter.  He broke the seal
impatiently and held the missive away from him, since it reeked of
scent.

Tony, I must see you.  It is of the utmost importance.  Meet me in my
box at the Agora tonight.  Do not fail me or you will regret it.

Madeleine

The note, as always, said nothing.  The urgency was no greater than if
she wanted him to listen to her complaints about Vonne.  She had a way
of turning everyday annoyances into emergencies, and the men who
pandered to her did not help matters.  Tony had lately been one of
those men.  He supposed he had better go, if for no other reason than
to tell Madeleine he was not at her beck and call anymore.  He burned
the parchment then, wishing he had done so without reading it.

Madeleine was looking particularly stunning, and Tony wondered if it
was for his benefit until he saw two others watching the play in the
box with her.  He would call during the intermission.  That would not
be thought to be extremely odd, even if he were seen at the back of her
box.  He applied himself to the play instead, and became so caught up
in the repartee he almost forgot what he was there for.  He had to
admit Travesian could put on a show.  And Count DeVries, although young
to have engaged in all the adventures he described to his friend
Fortenue, was quite good.

Tony thought that they would be seeing more of him.  He was not a
booming basso, but his voice had a clear solidity that must carry it to
the farthest seats in the small Agora.  There was something else, a
familiarity, as though you knew the man or could like him at first
meeting.  Whatever it was, the crowd listened attentively and stared
down anyone incautious enough to talk over his lines.

At the intermission, Tony was jerked back to the present and went to
hear the worst from Madeleine.  She had dispatched her attendants and
was, for the moment, alone.

"I knew you.  would come.  I knew it," she said passionately.

"It's probably worth my life to be seen here, so I hope this is
important."

"It's as important as my entire life."

"You don't mean you are dying?"  Tony said impatiently.  "I am dying of
love, or the lack of it.  I had to know if yo still cared enough to
risk your life for me, and you do.  Your being here is an answer by
itself."

"Now, see here, Madeleine.  That is all done with.  I am married now,
and whatever was between us must be forgotten."

"Married, but not happily."

"What makes you say that?"  Toner asked, flushing angrily and wondering
if some rumor of his distance from Sera had leaked out.

"I can tell by your eyes.  You suffer, too."  "I do not.  You had me
worried, that's all.," "You do care, then!"

"Yesw No!  I mean, I came to tell you I won't answer any more of these
letters of yours.  If Vonne should find out--"

A gentleman pulled the curtain aside and stared at Tony, then left.

"I'm glad you are not ill, then," Tony said, and left abruptly.  He
also left the theater, no longer interested in the play, after
Madeleine's dose of theatrics.  He had enough drama in his own life.

Albert Brel had learned his lines well, but Travesian was not satisfied
with some of his delivery.  Brel had attended all five of Sera's
performances, and was party to the secret identity of his temporary
replacement, so Travesian sent him to Marsham Street to read lines with
Sera.

Lady Amanda did not mind, but contentedly went on with her knitting,
secretly admiring Sera's somewhat Unorthodox involvement with the
theater set.  She could not bring herself to shun them.  Travesian was
so jovial and handsome, Brel a model of propriety and politeness.

"Start over on page thirty-one, where the latest changes were made,"
Sera advised, "and you might pace about a little, as you would onstage.
I think it helps.  How is the ankle?"

"Almost back to normal.  I just have to be careful in the sword
fights."

As Brel found his place, Tony, who never came home in the morning, came
in the street door and wondered who owned the powerful voice that came
booming out of their small sitting room.

"I am amazed that I could love you so much and you could love me so
little," Brel recited.  "What do I love, if you have no heart?  Not
your face!  That will not last.  Nor your comely form.  Not your
pleasant manner, for

"One moment," Sera said, just as Tony was beginning to get angry. "This
is not a shopping list, sir.  I should like to hear you a little more
bereft, and I see a change that will help.  Let me try it."

The door was ajar, and Tony peeked through the crack in confusion. Sera
was not alone with some unknown admirer, but talking to him in the
presence of his mama, or rather reading-- Of course!  He must be one of
Travesian's actors.

"What do I love, if not your heart?  Not your face!  That will not
last.  Nor your comely form.  Certainly not your pleasant manner, for
it is not often pleasant toward me."  Sera, with her strained voice,
could not deliver the lines with her usual force, but nonetheless said
them so persuasively Tony thought it could not be his Sera speaking.

"Some little thing, the smallest part of you, is what I love.  You now
and again smile and are at pains to please me in some little matter
after weeks Of neglect.  And I think there is a chance that you may be
human after all.  Then you turn away and spread your favors elsewhere,
leaving me to wonder if your infrequent kindness is a mere toying, some
subtle torture to bend and break me to the yoke of your worshiP.  Is it
so?"

Brel had playfully carded the script to Lady Amanda to have her read
Lady Rue's line.  "If you love only the smallest part of me, perhaps it
is you who is doing the toying, sir."  Lady Amanda read this with such
spirit, Tony grinned.  The count's lines, as he surmised them to be,
reminded him of his sad infatuation the previous year with Lady Vonne.
Madeleine would have given him just such an answer.

"Such a light answer for a deep question," Sera chided, pacing the
room.  "I fear you are one of those creatures who do not do anything,
neither think, nor care, nor love very deeply.  It is 'not in you.  And
yet I hope--why, I do not know--that someday, when all others have
fallen away from you, disenchanted with your fickleness, you may turn
to my constant arms and weep your disappointment on my breast.  Not
yet, I see.  I am not surprised."  Sera handed the script back to
Brel.

In his mind, Tony had pictured himself as the passionate Count DeVries,
and Madeleine as the fickle Lady Rue.  But when he heard Sera not just
speak DeVries's lines in her low vibrant voice, but actually mean them,
his universe twisted on its axis.  Sera was DeVries.  He had heard her
speak those fines himself when he went to the theater searching for
Madeleine.  Sera had tricked him.  He staggered with the knowledge. And
himself?.  Not the hero, but the shallow Lady Rue.  How could he have
been so blind?  He crept up the stairs, evicted the long-suffering
Stewart from his room and locked the door.

What sane woman would attempt such a ruse?  Sera had lied to him this
whole week, just to cavort on the stage in a powdered Wig and make a
fool of him.  What hold had Travesian on her that he could talk her
into such a fantastic scheme?  Or had it been Sera's idea?  If so, she
might be acting any other time when he took her at face value.  The
incident of the chestnut colt came strongly to mind.  He had always
considered his young wife rather innocent and bland, for all the
useless information she seemed to know.

He had never considered she might be devious, even adventuresome.  He
put aside the treat of confronting her with her crime.  He decided
instead to get his revenge slowly.  Just wait until the next time she
would not go out with him at night.  He would stay home with her and
watch her fret as the hour for the play came nearer and nearer.  He
would spend the night in her room, if need be, to keep her from
sneaking out at night.

"Well done," Sera told Brel.  "Marie and I will come to listen to you
rehearse this afternoon.  Amanda, would you like to come?  It will be a
dress rehearsal, and very much as though they are doing the whole play
just for you.  I would value your opinion."

"So would I," Brel offered.

"I know nothing about such things."

"On the contrary, you have a flair for the theater," Brel stated.

"Then I should love to come," Lady Amanda said truthfully.

After Brel had left, Lady Amanda knit in silence for a few moments,
then asked, "Sera, is that what it is like for you?"

"No, Tony is far kinder than Lady Rue, and I do not despair of him.  If
you only knew how far we have come.  Time is on my side, as well.  I
have not to win or lose him in a few short hours.  I have years to win
him over."  "From Madeleine Vonne?"

"Perhaps her beauty begins to fade already.  Have you noticed how
fragile she is looking?  And she has ten years on me.  Besides, time
can scarcely mar so plain a face as mine, and if it does, no one will
notice very much."

"You do yourself an injustice.  I think you are quite lovely."

"Lovely is a word reserved to describe the spirit of a woman.  I do
myself the courtesy of speaking the truth to myself.  That is one area
where I cannot fault Tony.  He has never lied to me.  He fairly
bristles with the truth, but I am tough enough not to be pricked by it.
It may take me a decade, but I will have him in the end, for whatever
time is left to us when he at last turns to me."

"You must not imagine your situation so hopeless.  He has been most
attentive all week."

"Yes, a healthy dose of guilt does wonders for a man's behavior."

Sera had sent Travesian word that she would be in the audience in case
Brel could not make it through the whole play.  He did not come for her
until the second intermission.  He whispered to her that Brel had been
incautious during the fight scene, and was limping again.

"I must leave you for this act," Sera informed Win and Lady Amanda.
"Armand's prompter has gone hoarse, and I will fill in for him."

"What?  You don't mean you are going down into that little box under
the stage?"

"No, of course not.  I shall merely stand in the wings with the script.
I am not likely even to be needed."

Vonne shrugged, and Sera left.  The intermission was only a few minutes
longer than usual, as Marie helped her make a lightning change into the
count's costume.

None of the regulars were at Boodle's that night.  After being turned
down by an idler who refused to match his luck at cards against him,
Tony finally demanded to know where everyone was.

"The Agora," one of the Falcrest brothers said.  "Haven't you heard
everyone talking about The Count?"

Tony flushed a little.  "Yes, I've heard."

Clive Falcrest limped over to Tony's table, carrying his glass, and sat
down With a grunt.  "They opened with an understudy, Campanello.
Tonight Albert Brel is to take over the role.  Everyone has gone to see
if he is as good as the Italian."

"Sounds more like a boxing match than a play.  Why aren't you there, if
you are so interested.

"Makes my leg stiff to have to sit still so long.  William loped off
with me."

William Falcrest, who had been tasting a bottle of burgundy, gave a nod
of approval and carried it to their table.  He was darkly handsome,
like Clive, except that his hair was graying.

"I have seen the play twice," William said, "and though it is amusing,
I can't Stand that damned shuffling about that goes on among the
audience between acts.  We will go back over when it is nearly done."

"How are you making it without Charne.  Clive asked.  "You must miss
him dreadfully, for I know I do."

"Yes, and then your father, on top of it all," William agreed.

"I am adjusting, though my business affairs are still a wreck."

"I saw you rented your house," William said.  "Very wise.  Can't
entertain much for a while, anyway."  "You'll come about," Clive said
bracingly.

"Perhaps one of you remembers," Tony mused, pushing the cards aside.
"Do you recall if the market crashed directly after news of the
battle?"

"I wasn't paying much attention," Clive said.  "We knew too many men
involved to give much of a thought to that."

"And I was out of my head," said Tony.  "When we got the notification
that Charlie was missing, I spent the next few weeks in a drunken blur.
But I heard later that many men lost their fortunes on the exchange."

"Those foolish enough to sell out," William agreed, pursing his lips as
he savored the dry wine.  "But if some men sold, others must have
bought.  I am not precisely sure, but I don't think stocks took much of
a plunge."

"That is what my man of business says," Tony agreed, accepting a refill
from Falcrest's bottle.

"All this bother with the market," Clive protested.  "I'm glad all I
have is my farm.  I know exactly what I have, then.  Land never goes
away."

"Yes, I should be glad of that, at least," Tony agreed.  "Was your
father hurt much by the war?"  William asked.

"He must have been, though he never discussed it with me," Tony said.
"I rather blame that for his early death."  "Lucky you were able to
marry Sera," Clive said.  "It's not the way I would have chosen to mend
my fortunes, if I had realized that's what I was doing," Tony said
darkly.

"But it's all turned out for the best," William said.  "Sera's an
intelligent woman, and completely devoted to your mother.  Peace in
one's own house is more precious than any fortune, and you have
both."

"I'm glad you all like Sera."

"I took Marissa and Victoria to tea at your house.  We discussed the
theater, as I recall.  You should go about with Sera more.  She does
you a lot of credit."

"Have we time for a three-handed game of whist," Clive asked, "or must
we do the pretty with the ladies soon?"  He helped himself to the
remainder of the wine in the bottle.

"Depends on whether we are walking or riding back to the theater."

"I'll walk, thanks," Clive said.

"Perhaps I'll walk over with you," Tony offered.  "I'm sure I'll find
Sera there."

"And leave all this excitement?"  Clive swept the room with his arm.

"The clubs are boring at the best of times."

"Then why do you play so much?"  William asked.  "Just trying to
restore the family fortunes."

Clive squinted at him.  "You must have a cool head."

"It's good to know I have some skill, even if it is gambling.  And I
have not done so ill on the exchange."

"That's a different kind of gambling," William said with a shake of his
head.  "It fairly makes me queasy when I

hear about some of the more dangerous ventures afoot."  "No risk, no
gain," Tony said levelly.

"But how do you sleep at night, not knowing if you will awake rich or a
pauper?"  Clive asked.

"I don't sleep at night," Tony said, with a grim smile.  "And I never
risk more than I can afford to lose.  It's a matter of mathematics."

"So it's not the thrill of gambling that keeps you here night after
night," William concluded.

"No, it's all a matter of business."

"I admire your courage, though it be rather cold-blooded.  Give me the
heat of battle any day," Clive said as he struggled to his feet.

"Where's Sera?"  Tony demanded suspiciously,.  as he located Win and
his mother in Travesian's box.  "Win, you were supposed to keep an eye
on her."

"Prompting," Lady Amanda whispered.

Tony'S eyes bulged as he saw the count stride across the stage.  Had he
not known Sera so well, had he not hung on her words so often, he would
never have detected the imposture.  There she was, as big as life, and
altogether convincing as the young, disillusioned count.  Tony was
spellbound.  He had almost not attended to the performance when he
visited Madeleine's box.  This time he listened raptly.  Had she not
been a banker's daughter, Sera could have had a career on the
stage--not that that would have been so wonderful.  As his wife, she
would have to be stopped ... but not in the middle of a performance. He
did not wait for the final applause, but rose as Sera was taking a
curtain call.

She spotted him and made for the dressing room.  She was as fast as she
could be, but she still heard him arguing with Travesian in the hall
before she was half-dressed.  Fortunately, the dressing rooms under the
stage were a regular rabbit warren, and she escaped him through another
door, pinning up her her hair as she ran.  The actors were so used to
seeing her about, no one thought anything of her dashing around under
the stage.

When Tony finally forced his way in, Made was calmly hanging and
brushing costumes.

"You, here?"

"It is my night off.  I do seamstress work for Travesian."  "No doubt."
Tony made his way back to the box and found Sera calmly seating
herself, her cheeks becomingly flushed and her hair quite tidy.  He
could not but admire the coolness of her, to have acted such a part and
now to pretend innocence before him.  So much went unsaid between them,
and yet they sometimes read each other's thoughts.  Sera looked at him
appraisingly.

"I shall take you home now.  I do not want you to come to this theater
again except in my company," Tony said firmly.

Win flinched a little.

Sera considered for a moment.  "Very well, Tony.  That puts me in mind
of something I have been meaning to tell you."

"And what is that?"

"I own part of the Agora, and I must confess I am getting a little
tired of it.  Do you know anyone who might be interested in buying into
it?"

Tony gaped at her, then sat down suddenly.  "How much?"  he croaked.

"I have no idea what it is worth."

"No, I mean how much of an interest have you?"  Tony covered his
eyes.

"Half-- Tony, are you feeling unwell?  You look rather ashen."

'"So when you said you had access to the manager's box, it was because
you are the manager."

"HOW exciting!"  Lady Amanda gushed.

Win burst out laughing.

"No, of course not, or only in the most ghostly way.  But I am tired of
worrying every time one of the actors gets a sore throat, or rips a
costume.  I suppose I could sell it to Travesian, but I have no idea
when he would be able to pay me."

"I sincerely wish you would divest yourself of this property even if he
can pay you only a sou for it."

"That's all settled, then," Sera said brightly.

Tony was rather silent in the carriage.  He rather thought Sera
suspected he had rumbled her lay, but so long as no accusations were
thrown one way or the other, she could continue to play the dutiful
wife, and he... What could he do from now on but keep a close eye on
her?  If she really meant to keep her promise and stay away from the
theater, what next might she think to do to disquiet him?  The mind
boggled.

He reached for her hand and drew it into his lap, thinking his mother
could see nothing in the dark carriage.  If only he could tell Sera how
much he loved her without awakening expectations in her that he was not
yet able to fulfill.  She returned the pressure of his hand with a
tenderness that tore at his heart.  Without words; she told him that
she loved him.  Her touch was a promise stronger than a wedding vow.

By the next evening, Sera's voice was back to normal, and she tried to
appear cheerful again.  She caught Tony staring at her oddly during
dinner.  Lady Amanda smiled kindly.

"Do you feel like going out tonight?"  Tony asked hesitantly.

"Yes, I do.  May we--may we go to see The Count again?"  Sera asked as
she received a dish from Rayburn.

"Yes," agreed Tony, surprised at her compliance, and at her request.
"But I should think you have seen enough of that play."

"But I haven't seen it--I mean I haven't seen it with you," Sera said
passionately.

Tony looked at her appraisingly, wondering why that would be so
important to her.  Perhaps she wanted to be seen at the theater with
him.  It was a humble enough request from a woman who deserved.  much
more than that from him.  "Everyone is talking about that play," he
said, to cover his awkward pause.

"What do they say?"  Lady Amanda asked eagerly.  "That the author,
Encrier, is a comedic genius for his young age.  They say he takes his
influence from Diderot, but I would not know about such things."

"You have been studying the theater," Sera said with a flush of
pride.

"Also, this Campanello who has been standing in for Brel has been much
talked of," Tony teased, with a gleam in his eye.

"Brel is an unknown himself," Sera parried.  "That's how Travesian
saves money, by giving unknowns a chance.  They are never difficult to
handle, and he has launched one or two fine careers that way."

"What about actresses?"  Tony asked provokingly.  '"Unfortunately, men
have all the good lines.  Women come to hear male actors, and so do
men.  They are only interested in female actresses if they are
startlingly beautiful, and that very seldom jumps with a strong
speaking voice or any real ability."

"You seem to know a great deal about it," Tony returned.

"I suppose I am more interested in the theater than anything else,"
Sera mused, pondering what' she had just revealed so matter-of-factly,
about men having all the good lines.

"Why?"

"Why what?"  asked Sera, losing track of the conversation.

"Why are you so interested in the theater?"

"In the real world I have no say, no control over anything.  A play is
such a safe thing.  I already know how it will end.  There's only so
much damage it can do, and then it will be oven"

"Damage?  You would not go to a play unless you knew how it ended?"

"Yes, and it must end happily, of course.  I never go to tragedies,
unless they are Shakespearean.  There is something so insufferably
selfish about modern tragedies, I have no patience with them."

"Really?  You have a deal of patience with me, and I am certainly a
tragedy," Tony said, causing his mother to laugh.

"Don't joke, "Tony.  In order for it to work, the characters in a
tragedy must be stupid, mad, or deceitful.  In a comedy, the only
difficulty is that the characters misunderstand each other for so
long."

"Yes, that is true.  So you hold out for the happy ending?"

"Always."

"And why do men have all the good lines--?  Oh, I suppose because the
plays are written by men," Tony concluded.

"Yes, that must be it," Sera said absently, wondering frantically why
this was true of her own plays, as well.

When she left them to change into a more elegant evening dress, Sera
thought about what she had said.  Why did her male characters have all
the good lines?  Was it because she knew men better, from having
entertained her father's friends so often?  Did she expect only men to
say witty or profound things?  When she looked at her work objectively,
she discovered, to her horror, that she took a distinctly masculine
view of the world.

Marie lifted the lavender silk gown up for Sera to slide into.  Except
for Marie and Lady Jane, Sera had never known many women.  Lady Jane
had certainly never said anything profound to her, and yet she was not
a stupid woman.  But her focus was on marriage and home, both Sera's
and her own.  Made was concerned with nothing but what would make Sera
happy.

Then it hit Sera that almost everything she had ever read had been
written by men.  What chance had she, then, when she had not even
realized what she was doing?  To have it pointed out to her by Tony,
whom she sometimes thought so insensitive, was what startled her the
most.  She had never thought him very observant, but he hid so much
from her, she did not know what to think of him.  She took the gloves
Made handed her and pulled them on.

Then she thought of Lady Amanda, and the staunchness with which she had
held out for marriage for the kitchen maid.  "Her mother-in-law was
strong and courageous, but hid it well.  Sera began writing new lines
in her head.  There would be a young heroine in her next play, but not
a weak innocent.  She would fight for her hero---and win.

Chapter Seven

Where is your dog?"  Tony asked warily as he ventured into Sera's
bedroom to see if she was ready for the theater.  He abhorred arriving
late.  If he was going at all, he was going to see the whole play.  He
would not leave the performance early, either.

"McDuff has been gone for weeks," Sera said with a laugh as she
straightened her hair.

"Did he' die Tony asked hopefully.

"No, I sent him to the gardener at Gott Farm.  He has always admired
McDuff, and they are both getting on in years, 'so they will be good
company for each other."

"You needn't have got rid of him on my account."  "Well, I could not
have him biting you,"

"You were afraid," Tony concluded suspiciously.  "What?"  Sera turned
from the mirror to stare at him.

"You were afraid I would do something to him, so you sent him away to
keep him safe, just like your horses."

"That's not true," she said as she rose.  "It was you I was concerned
about."

"Did you imagine I would strangle him?"

"No, nothing of the sort."  She took an uncertain step toward him.

"You don't trust me at all."

"I did it to Please you," Sera said, almost in tears.  "Why do you
twist everything?"  ,

"Don't hurt yourself to make me feel guilty, for it will not work."

"I don't do that."

"Yes, you do."

Sera looked doubly upset as she tried to fathom if Tony might be
right.

"Sera, are you ready?"  came Lady Amanda's voice at the door.  "Tony
does not like to be late."

"I--I don't know if we are going," Sera said tearfully.

"Nonsense, of course we are going!"  Lady Amanda shouted.  "Tony would
never disappoint you again!"  "Are we going?"  she whispered
pathetically.

"Do you want to go?"  he demanded, rocking on his heels.

It almost seemed like a test.  If she said no and spent the night
crying and feeling sorry for herself, she would prove Tony right, and
perhaps lose him.  "Yes," she said, hoping it was the right answer.

She thought he teetered on the brink of saying that he should prefer to
stay home.  "Then we'll go," he said, after torturing her for a full
minute.

The only other thing to mar the evening was the presence of Lord and
Lady Vonne in a box opposite them.  "Damn," Tony swore' softly.  "What
is it?"  Sera asked.

"The Vonnes are here.  We had better go," Tony said, turning to Sera.

"Go?  But we only just got here."

"Lord Vonne is glaring in my direction."

"Yes, of course, but we cannot be dodging every time we encounter him,"
said Sera, settling herself more comfortably in her seat.  "I'm pleased
with the box, Tony.  It is very near the Falcrest box."

"I only thought you might not like being the object of so much
scrutiny," he said wryly, thinking of her acting exploits.

"I am not bothered by a few stares, and you are not afraid of Lord
Vonne."

"No, of course not."  He smiled at her having realized that.

"Besides, I thought once a duel was honorably fought, that settled the
matter."

"Yes, you are right.  I should have known you wouldn't run."  He took
her hand and deftly kissed it.  She smiled at him, and they lost
themselves in the play, forgetting all about the menacing stare of Lord
Vonne and the self-satisfied smile of Madeleine.

As they sat and listened to the lines Sera had produced at no little
bother, Tony stopped looking at the people in the theater and began to
listen and laugh with the rest of them.  Sera's heart soared.  To draw
one laugh from Tony was worth any pain the play had cost her.  She
longed to tell him it was hers, but that would ruin it.  Either he
wouldn't believe her, or he Would be angry.  It was enough that she
knew she had done it.

Brel's voice drew Sera's attention back to his portrayal of Count
DeVries:

"Why am I telling you all this, Charles?"

"Perhaps you thought I might understand.  Being a man of the world, I
have also spent a deal of my time looking for a worthy woman."

"Worthy of you, you mean?"

"Yes, DeVries, of course.  What did you think I meant?"

"Charles, with your reputation, I should think any slut off the street
would be worthy of you."

"I would be a better man if I met better women."  "Better, Charles? 
How so?  Morally, you mean?"  "yes."

"You would change?  Reform?"

"Well, no, now you mention it.  I am Only saying it is not my fault I
am like this."

"Is it their fault, then, Charles, the women you have loved?"

"I would not say that I have ever really loved any of them."

"I think we get what we deserve, Charles.  If we only meet women by
flirting, we attract flirtatious women."

"But the alternative!  Who would want a lot of bluestockings hanging
about you?"

"But you see, they would not be.  A virtuous woman must be sought.
Where, I do not know, but she does not hang about one."

"But are you sure that is what you want?  How much sport would she
be?"

"I have no idea, Charles.  I have never met such a woman."

"Are there such creatures?"

"Do not speak about them us though they are another species.  Of course
there are.  There must be.  My only hope is to meet such a woman."

"And marry her?"

"If I am worthy of her."

"Take my advice, DeVries.  Do not do so.  Better a hopeless passion
than the cold realities of marriage."  "How would you know?"

"I have been married, after a fashion."

"Charles, one is either married or not.  It is not a thing one does by
degrees, like getting drunk."

Sera saw Tony move uncomfortably in his seat and glance at her but she
kept her eyes fixed on the stage.

"You know what I mean, DeVries, when a woman becomes so sure of you
that she takes you for granted, lets herself go."

"What are you talking about?"

"They are not all so lovely by morning light as in a candlelit
ballroom."

"Neither am I, and I have seen you in the morning before the coffee
brings the blood back to your face and brain.  You are no prize,
Charles, and neither am I."

"And what if this virtuous wife prays before she gets into bed with
you?  A fellow had that happen to him.  What is a man to think of
that?"

"Perhaps I should be glad for the help."

"My dear Vivian, we were just talking about you .... "

Brel rolled his eyes as Lady Rue made an entrance, and the audience
broke into laughter again.

Sera and Tony spent both of the intervals in companionable discussion
with the Falcrests.  Sera was pleased with the way William and Tony
talked of finance, as though William considered Tony an equal.  She
could not quite follow what William said about there not really being a
crash after the war, but she expected Tony would explain matters later.
Sera had never enjoyed an evening so much.  It was, for a few short
hours as though they were really married.

On the way home in the carriage, they recalled to each other the
funnier parts of the play, and laughed until tears stood in their eyes.
Tony was so caught up in the play, he came to Sera's room, still
chuckling, to ask her one of the lines he had forgotten.  She stopped
brushing her magn if-cent hair, recited the line and made him laugh
again.

"How can you remember it so well?"  he asked, wiping his eyes.

"I have a copy of it.  Here, you may read it if you like."

She pulled the script out of her desk and handed it to him.

"Yes, for coaching the actors," Tony said, looking resentfully at the
manuscript.

"Don't," Sera pleaded.

"Don't what?"  he asked, staring into her beseeching eyes.

"Don't ruin it."

"Oh, the evening.  I do have a way of doing that, don't

IT'

"Yes, and I don't know why."

"Because I know I have ruined your whole life.  I don't deserve to
laugh ever again."

"But I make you miserable, too.  At least I was not in love with
someone else when we married."

"It's not a contest, Sere.  If it were, I fear I would be the winner. I
know I am dense and difficult at times.  I am often preoccupied with
something else, and have no idea I have blundered until it is too
late."

"I should keep my temper better."

"No, you should lose it more.  That way I will know when I have done
something awful.  Besides, you look quite fetching when you are cutting
up at me, with your eyes flashing and your hair in danger of coming
undone."  He toyed with one lock of her hair, then seemed to recollect
himself.  "I almost think it worth making you angry, just to watch
you."

"I hope you do not do it on purpose.  That would be despicable."

"I haven't fallen that low yet," he said, pulling his fingers through
her hair and finally taking the brush from her and arranging the
chestnut locks on her shoulders.

She closed her eyes and swayed with the motion of his strokes.
"Everything you do makes such a difference to me," 'she whispered.  "I
feel like I am walking a fence all the time, and a single word from you
can tip me into laughter or tears."

"I'm sorry.  Come down off your fence.  I shall try to be better
company by and by."

He laid the brush down and pulled her up by the shoulders, staring at
her intently as he surrendered to her hazel eyes.  He lost himself in
kissing her, in stroking her hair, tasting her lips.  It was only some
niggling grain of common sense that called him back from her, reminding
him that he did not dare do what he wanted.  He had a long deal of work
ahead of him before he could be free of Sere.  Then he would come to
her as a husband.  He let go of her with a groan.

She swayed against the dressing table, gripping it for support as his
kiss still throbbed on her lips.  She watched him stare at her
longingly before he left the room, then slumped on the seat.  She
accepted what Tony said at moments like these with the faith of a wife
of many years.  She did not know what tortured him, but she accepted
his assurance that things would get better.  She began to ask herself
what she would do if they never came together.  Would just knowing him
like this be enough?  She decided it would have to, for she would never
give him up, even if this was all there was to be.

Sera thought Tony must have moved heaven and earth to get them an
invitation to the Herberts' ball.  Actually, he had merely mentioned in
passing to William Falcrest that he would like to take Sere.  William
had told his wife, and Marissa had coldbloodedly traded an invitation
to her own masked ball the following month to Lady Herbert in exchange
for the Cairnbrookes' entree to their house.  She had not done it in so
many words, but had merely overridden Lady Herbert's objection to any
unpleasantness between Vonne and Tony by assuring her that there would
be none.

Sera thought Tony was being quite attentive, until he left her with Win
almost at the door and disappeared into the card room.  She felt
abandoned, as though he were ashamed of her.  She did not really
believe that, but it was what others might think that worried her.  Win
began to dutifully conduct her around the room and to introduce her to
everyone he knew, which seemed to be everyone.

"Hello, Sere!"  Marissa called from across the room.  She made her way
over and led Sera to.  Elizabeth, who was stranded on a sofa with a
flock of older matrons gathered around giving her advice.  Sera smiled
sympathetically at Elizabeth's patient replies, and Elizabeth held out
a hand to her.

"Walk with me a bit, Sera, for I feel much better moving about than
perching on a sofa like a broody hen."

"What is it like?"  Sera asked enviously as they went into the hall and
walked toward one of the less crowded salons.

"Terrible and wonderful at the same time."  "Terrible when you feel
that you are on display."

"Like an exhibit at the royal menagerie," Elizabeth confided.

"And when is it wonderful?"

"When I am with Jason."

"I should have guessed that.  I have never seen two people so
completely in love.  Did you know from the first moment you met him?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said in amazement.  "Is that how it was for you?"

"Very much so.  Unfortunately, Tony takes--took---our relationship more
lightly.,"

Elizabeth made for a quiet corner and found a straight-backed chair.

"He did not fall in love with you?"

"I began to wonder if men did not fall in love.  Now .I

know of at least three who have."

"Who?"

"Jason, William, and Lord Vonne."

"When you said that about Tony not caring if Vonne killed him, was that
what be told you?"

"No, just a guess from what I have pieced together.  Was it true?"

"Yes, I believe so, and I have some experience ... of such things. When
we could get no word of his brother at all,

Tony was like a man possessed.  Madeleine took advantage of his
unstable state."

"I'm so glad he had your family to turn to.  He has never trusted his
mother as he should and, I take it, did not get along with his
father."

"That was Charlie's fault.  Tony would defend him, no matter what
stupid scrape Charlie got into.  That's why Charlie was sent into the
army in the first place--to make a man of him."

"You don't speak Of Charlie as though he was the focus of your
concern."

"I never loved Charlie, if that is what you have heard,

or Tony, for that matter.  My desperation was born of guilt."  "You?"

"Do not let my innocent looks deceive you.  I was involved in a secret
engagement with Charlie.  Not my idea, of course.  I don't know what I
thought, that I would jilt him when he came back, or..."

"Or that he wouldn't come back.  That's how he talked you into it!"
Sera guessed.  "How could he, playing on your sympathies like that?"

"You understand.  Thank you.  But you see, when he didn't come back,
how I felt--relieved, but guilty about it."

"Did you tell Jason?"

"When I couldn't bear it 'any longer.  Hence the so-desperate search
for Charlie.  Oh, we would' have helped poor Tony look for him anyway,
but the whole season had a particular horror for me.  If they found
him, especially if he were wounded, I would have had to marry him."

"Sacrifice your love for Jason, or make a friend unhappy?  What a
desperate choice to make."

"You wouldn't think it to look at me, but I have done some quite
desperate things in my life."

Sera gazed into those blue eyes, eyes that were not gentle now, but
alight with some hidden steel, "Something desperate to do with
Jason?"

"Yes, it was a matter of his life."

"I hope that I would find that kind of courage if Tony is in danger.
Compared to your situation, mine seems quite laughable, trying to
seduce my own husband."

"Is it working?"

"Sometimes I think so.  Sometime he looks at me as though I am the only
thing he cares about, and then he draws back."

"Tony looks different now, as though he has a purpose in life."

"Unfortunately, it is not only to make me happy.  He has some other
purpose, as well, and he refuses to tell me what it is."

"Well, I don't think it has to do with Lady Vonne.  If it did, she
would look happier."

"I hadn't thought of that," Sera said with a laugh.  "There you are!"
Jason said, bringing Elizabeth a glass of lemonade.  "Hello, Sera,
would you like some lemonade, too?"

"I'm not at all thirsty."

"Not too hot, Elizabeth?"  Jason asked.  "Or perhaps you are chilled?"
He looked at the open windows.

"I am fine."

"Do you think she should have come tonight?"  Jason demanded of Sera.

"I'm--I'm afraid I know nothing about it," Sera confessed, rising as
Elizabeth did.  "But I'm sure Elizabeth is the best judge of what she
feels like doing."

"I'm at it again, aren't I?"  Jason confessed.  "Fussing over you."  He
took his wife's arm and walked with them back down the hall toward the
ballroom.

"Jason, you are an admirable husband, and someday, I'm sure, you will
make an excellent doctor, but just at this moment you are driving me to
distraction."

"You want me to go away."

"I want you to enjoy yourself--play cards, or whatever married men do
at balls."

"I have no idea what that is."  Jason stared desperately around the
room.

"Then dance with Sera,"

"Will you promise to stay where I can see you?"

"I will sit just here for the entire set," Elizabeth said, choosing a
chair by a potted palm.  "See, they are forming up now.  You will be
able to watch me drink my lemonade."  "Do you mind so much?"  Jason
asked Sera.  "I think it would appease Elizabeth."

"I can handle the most gruesome medical things in the general way.  I
am studying at the College of Surgeons here in London.  But as a
husband I have the disadvantage of knowing how risky it is to have a
child ... all the things that can go wrong..."

"But I'm sure Elizabeth knows the risks.  There is no need to dwell on
them."

"I simply don't know what I would do if I lost Elizabeth now.  I love
her almost too much to bear."

"It's not possible to love someone too much."  "Are you not afraid of
having children?"  "Perhaps I will be, but it is worth the risk."  "Do
all women think so?"

"I don't know.  I only know how I feel about it."

Sera was distracted from her conversation by the sight of Madeleine in
gauze and spangles.  Her hair looked too tightly curled.  Her eyelashes
were darkened, of course.  Sera stopped herself.  It was no use.
Whatever artifice lent her aid, Madeleine was still a stunningly
attractive woman.  And when she had a certain look about her, the one
that promised men something... era was shocked to see that the man who
walked up to Madeleine was Tony.  Sera turned back to Jason Weir with a
stage smile so practiced that he never guessed what she was thinking.

"Was that Rothschild you were talking to?"  Tony asked Madeleine, in a
way that caused her to raise a speculative eyebrow at him.

"Yes.  Nathan Rothschild.  Why do you ask?  Are you jealous?"

"I have no right to be.  Do you know him well?"  "Not as well as I know
you," she said provocatively.  "What is he like?"

"I never quite know if he is smiling or sneering," Madeleine said,
after a moment's thought.

That was almost exactly what Sera had said of the man.  Thinking of his
wife caused Tony to get a grip on himself and realize where he was. For
once, Madeleine's startling eyes and erotic perfume had no effect on
him.  "Will you introduce me to him?"  "Tony, you are not done up, are
you?"

"No, I don't want a loan.  I just want to meet him."

"At first I thought that was how Vonne got acquainted with him, but
they talk of nothing but those birds."  "Birds?"

"Racing pigeons.  Dance with me," she commanded.  "That would be
singularly dangerous."  "Or courageous."

"Will you introduce me to Rothschild?"

"I promise, if that is what you want."

"Very well," Tony agreed, since it was only a COuntry dance.  "Does
Vonne treat you any better?"  he asked when they came together and no
one else could hear.

"NO, worse.  He watches me all the time, he or one of his men.  I am
virtually a prisoner."

"What does he say to Rothschild's attentions?"

"You mistake matters," Madeleine said with a laugh.  "Rothschild is his
friend, not mine.  He has even stayed at our country place."

"Really?  Where's that?"

"Wingham Court, east of Canterbury.  You should have become one of
Vonne's intimates and talked of sport to him.  Then, perhaps--"

"I don't think that would have kept him from shooting me.  I did
deserve it, you know."

"You don't know what agonies I was in, thinking I had caused your
death."

"Were you?"  asked Tony, trying to picture it.

"Of course!"  Madeleine glared at him, then softened.  She captured
Tony with her eyes and held his attention.  It was a skill she had.
That possessive stare promised everything and gave away nothing.  Tony
caught himself being ensnared and shook himself back to attention.
"Your wife, what is she like?"  "Studious."

"What do you mean?"

"She has a fondness for books."

"How convenient for you."

"She amuses herself tolerably well."

"I must see you again."

"That I will not even discuss with you.  The dance is nearly over. Will
you introduce me to Rothschild?"

"Madame, a word with you," a strained voice said at Sera's shoulder
after Jason had been dragged off by Clive.

An impatient little sigh escaped her when she realized it was Lord
Vonne.  She tore her eyes away from Tony and Madeleine to face the
saturnine lord.  He was tall and lean, his dark eyes menacing under his
furrowed brow and his teeth very white against his mustache.

"We have not been introduced, yet I do not feel we should let that
constrain us from speaking," he said as he offered his arm and led her
into the next dance, a waltz.

"Not since you have been glaring at me so blatantly."  ""Not so much at
you as at Cairnbrooke.  A word of warning--if you do not manage your
husband better, you will soon find yourself a widow."

"I see," she said, not at all shocked, as he had wanted her to be. "But
you must grant tonight was not entirely Tony's fault.  Had Madeleine
ignored him, he might have managed better."

"She said nothing to him.  I was watching.  She made no sign."

"Yes, she did.  She looked at him, a look that would have melted a
stone.  Any man, commanded by such a look, would have crossed the room
to her."

"You seem to accept the situation rather complacently."  "The first
time I met her, she was caught off guard, and did not 'show to
advantage.  I fear I must award her the laurels tonight.  Had I known
what a consummate actress she is, I might have taken her more
seriously.:'

"How can you accept that he loves Madeleine, not you?"  "I do not
accept it.  I am painfully aware of it."  "As is everyone in London."

"I'm happy to have afforded entertainment to so many."  "Well, he did
marry you for your money."

"Actually, he didn't.  I am sure of that.  He was simply trying to put
the past behind him, and to please his parents."

"Very well, then they married him to you for your money."

"To save his life, as I am trying to do," Sera said impatiently.

"I will not tolerate being cuckolded again."

"It will not come to that.  If we four are seen to meet politely
enough, the talk will soon die down, but not if you continue to glare
at us."

"What?  Am I to smile and nod my approval when he goes waltzing off
with my wife, to make you more socially acceptable?"

"It is we who are waltzing," Sera said with a smile.  "I merely mean
that the awkwardness would go out of our meeting, if you would let
it."

"Awkwardness!  You have a talent for understatement, madame.  He bedded
my wife!"

"I allow you have a right to be angry, but I should think shooting him
more than made up for--"

"You have some very strange notions of marriage, if you think I can
ever forgive such an act.  I warn you again.  Keep a tight rein on him,
for next 'time I will kill him."

"What good would that do?  She will simply find someone else to torture
you with."

"She will be terrified into being good."

"She will give a good performance, at any rate, but I do not think she
really fears you at all.  I think she wishes to drive you into a
frenzy."

"I do not need you to tell me how to run my marriage, when yours is
such a shambles."

"I can win Tony, but I thought I had time."

"If you think to get with child, that will not soften him.

That is when he is most likely to seek another woman."  "That isn't
what I had in mind."  "But it is a possibility."

"No, that is--" Sera looked away, biting her lip.

"Not a possibility?  He does make love to you, doesn't he?"

Sera flushed, not with embarrassment, but in rage at herself for
letting this slip to her husband's worst enemy.

"My God.  Not even that.  You must love him, indeed."  "As you love
Madeleine."

"I do not.  Sometimes I feel l could kill her."

"Hate and love are very much the same.  The only thing that is hard to
bear is indifference."  Sera looked longingly at Tony, who had just
noticed her and Vonne.

Vonne scrutinized her searchingly, and she raised her chin.

"I scarcely know you," he whispered, urgently.  "But no one else has
ever guessed that I love Madeleine.  They think I regard her as one of
my possessions."

"Why don't you talk to her?  If she cares for you at all "

"We do not talk, but end always in a verbal duel.  We cannot help
ourselves.  And neither can you help yourself.  If you ever had a
chance to win your husband, you have lost it now."

"I wager I can win him," Sera challenged, knowing that only boldness
would do against Vonne.

"How?  He does not love you."

"But he is jealous of me.  He is watching us now, with a good imitation
of your scowl on his face-- Don't look."

"You can't make use of me in this way.  Too obvious."

"But I do know one or two men whom I could make use of in this way."

"A dangerous game.  It will never work."

"I'll take that chance."

"The stakes are Cairnbrooke's life," Vonne said, with his quiet
savagery.

"I know that."

"One month," Vonne decreed.

"That's not fair."

"It is all I will tolerate.  Even at that, I may have trouble keeping
the bargain."

"You will not regret this."

"But will you, my dear?"  He kissed her hand and parted from her with a
vague smile that left all who had noticed them wondering what the odd
pair had discussed.

"What did.  you find to talk to Lord Vonne about?"  Tony asked when he
came up with her.

"Acting.  He knows a great deal more than one would think."

"Really?"

Tony danced attendance on Sera throughout the rest of the evening, but
kept a watchful eye on Madeleine.  She had tripped off from him with a
laugh; and collared another man to waltz with her.  He supposed he
could get an introduction to Rothschild through Sera, but he wanted to
keep his wife out of this.  Also, he was reluctant to use her in that
way.  Suddenly it occurred to him that he had no qualms about using
Madeleine to get the introduction.  Whatever spell she had cast over
him last year was surely broken.  What he hoped to gain from a few
moments' conversation with the banker, he did not know, but he had to
make a start somewhere.  Suddenly Madeleine called him with her eyes.

Sera saw the signal,- and tried to ignore it.  Sera looked desperately
around for Vonne, but, by luck, he had his back turned, talking to
another couple.

"I shall get you something cool to drink," Tony offered, and slipped
away before he could even hear Sera's whispered reply.

To Tony's relief, Madeleine merely introduced him to Rothschild as if
it were a chance encounter and not by design.  He had not thought
Madeleine had so much subtlety.

"So you have married Sera Barclay?"  Rothschild inquired, with his
guttural German accent.  His rotund little figure stood rooted to one
spot, just as at the stock exchange, except here he had a glass of
champagne in his hand.

"Yes, last fall," Tony replied.

"Good family," Rothschild informed him.

"Yes, they are."

These commonplaces were disarming, but Tony remembered that Sera was in
awe of the man, so he reserved his judgment.

"So I suppose you want me to tell you some little secret," Rothschild
said with a smile.  "What stock to buy?"

"No," Tony said vaguely, feigning disinterest, although his mild reply
was far from what leapt to his mind.

Rothschild chuckled a little.  Tony drank his wine and watched the
dancers and Rothschild.  Also, someone was.  moving around the
circumference of the room, two men, one a footman in the Herberts'
livery, the other a booted and spurred man who reached a gloved hand
between Tony and Rothschild and handed the latter a sealed letter.
Rothschild handed his glass to the servant, broke the seal and read the
letter without ceremony.  Tony put his empty glass down on a table and
got a flashing glimpse of the letter.  German, he thought, or else a
very ragged hand.

"Tell Cohen not to fidget," Rothschild said to the courier, folding and
pocketing the letter.  "There's nothing to be done until morning,
anyway."  Rothschild's eyes were veiled and inscrutable now.  They gave
Tony a chill.  But by the time Rothschild turned back to him, they were
gleaming with good humor again.

"Some problem?"  Tony inquired, in a bored fashion.

"My assistant--so impatient.  Everything must be now for him."

Tony nodded sympathetically.

"I hear you are a great cardplayer," Rothschild said.

"I play a lot.  There isn't much else to do at these affairs."

"My wife likes to come."  "That is why I am here, also."  "It keeps the
peace."

"Not always," Tony informed him.

Sera pretended nothing was wrong, and smiled confidently at anyone who
looked in her direction.  She was desperately wishing one of the
Falcrests would come by and rescue her again.  She must have been
looking bereft, for when Vonne's gaze fell on her, he walked over to
stand beside her.

"Where is he?"  Vonne demanded portentously.

"I sent him to get me some lemonade," Sera lied, fanning her flushed
countenance.

"Oh."  Vonne sat beside her on the sofa.

"You can't forever keep one or the other of them in sight.  We are
going to have to trust them sometime."  Sera wished her words carded
more conviction, or that Tony had been more skillful in his rose.

"I would as soon trust a loose bitch in heat as my wife at one of these
affairs."

Sera laughed, in spite of her worry.  "So it is Madeleine you distrust,
not Tony?"

"I don't trust the reason of any man in the sphere of her influence.
She has a way of persuading them to any foolishness that comes into her
head."

"But not you."

"I won't stand for her nonsense."

"You must have once, or you would not have managed to get married."

"It was a near run thing.  The wedding was put off three times because
we argued.  I should have known we would have a stormy marriage.  She
is pettish, selfish and spoiled."  "And still you love her?"

"Why is that, do you suppose?"  Vonne drained his wineglass and thumped
it down on the table beside Sera.

"I begin to think women are not always what they appear.  Strength is
sometimes an illusion in a man.  The same can be said of weakness in a
woman.  She will use whatever guile she possesses, and use it quite
ruthlessly, to do what is needed.  Madeleine has managed to hold you, I
believe, faithful, through all these affairs of hers.  If she were a
weak woman, she would not have been able to do that."

"You are saying she uses thereto keep me at fever pitch?"

"Perhaps she plays the game by instinct, but it seems to have worked so
far.  If she had been a docile wife, would she have held your interest,
or would you have strayed?"

"I don't know," Vonne was forced to admit after a moment's
reflection.

He stared into space so long, Sera began to worry about him.  Then
Madeleine appeared and searched the room furtively with her eyes.  When
they alighted on Sera and Vonne, her small brows came together, and she
pouted deliciously.  Sera chuckled, not so much at Madeleine, but in
relief that Tony was no longer with her.

"It appears she cannot take what she dishes out," Vonne said, suddenly
moving closer to Sera.

"Do you mean to deal yourself into this game, sir?"

"If that's what it takes to teach her a lesson."  Vonne possessed
himself of Sera's fan and began to ply it lightly.

The warm air was almost a caress, and Vonne's eyes danced with
laughter.  Sera was amazed at the transformation.  He no longer looked
dangerous, but rather benign.  She could not help smiling at him.  She
only hoped Madeleine found those dark eyes more compelling than she
did.

Sera saw Madeleine out of the corner of her eye.  "She's coming this
way."

"Indeed?  I would have expected her to hare off after another man."

"I want to go home," Madeleine announced as she approached.  "I have
the headache."  She sounded almost like a pouting child.  Vonne frowned
at his wife, and even Sera felt a little sorry for her.

"It must be the heat," Sera said.  "Perhaps you would like to sit down
a moment."  Madeleine took her advice and managed a languid posture on
only a third of a sofa.

Tony was congratulating himself on being able to make Rothschild's
acquaintance, and was hurrying back with some iced champagne for his
wife when he pulled up at sight of the odd trio so abruptly he nearly
dropped the glass.

Sera thought Tony did not look at all like a treacherous lover, more
like a schoolboy caught out at something.  She smiled at the thought,
which encouraged him to complete his trip.

"Your servant, sir" was all he said to Vonne, who acknowledged his
presence with a nod.

Sera took the glass from him, since he was in danger of tipping it onto
her.  "Perhaps you need this more than I do, Madeleine."  She handed
the glass to Vonne, who turned to his wife to administer the
restorative.  The look she cast at him was quite unfathomable--not fear
or dread, certainly, perhaps confusion.  Was Vonne acting so much out
of character, Sera wondered?

Tony stood awkwardly by until Madeleine had finished her drink and
Vonne had raised his wife by her arm and taken leave of them.  Tony
stared after them.

"I cannot figure them out, either," Sera said.  "They may be as much of
a mystery to each other as they are to us."

"I have never known Vonne to sit and talk to someone before.  He
usually retires to the card room after he makes his presence felt."

"What do you really know about him?"

"He's a better-than-average shot," Tony ventured, feeling his shoulder
and drawing a smile from Sera.

"What else?"  she demanded.

"A sportsman, more so than.  a farmer.  His agents take care of all
that.  He's well-off enough to indulge himself in all his fancies---the
fastest horses, the most.  costly guns."  "The most beautiful women."

"That's a matter of taste, and I do not think that Madeleine will wear
well."

Sera stared at him.  Either Tony was a consummate actor, or his tryst
with Madeleine had been a leave-taking.  He had not the look of a man
besotted.  "What is it?"  he asked.  "Everyone is staring at us."

"Then I will dance with you, and really give them something to stare
at.  A man dancing with his wife is an unusual sight."

He kissed her in the hallway that night as though he were restoring his
strength after an arduous battle.  He made her feel his longing, his
unfulfilled love, as though it were some future promise.  They stood so
long in each other's arms, she thought surely he would come to her that
night.  But however long she lay awake, he did not come.

Sera managed to face Tony at breakfast without letting her
disappointment show.  There was no trick to that.  He barely looked at
her from behind the paper.  Perhaps, she thought hopefully, Tony was
not at his best in the morning.  She decided not to bother him with any
banter, but ate her toast in silence.  Sera had been watching his hands
covertly and wondering what they could do.  They were singularly
competent-looking hands that she could imagine driving a team, gripping
a pistol, or even playing an instrument.  Indeed, she knew his hands
almost better than she knew his face.  She saw more of them than of him
when he held The Times at the breakfast table.

It was in these moments of profound longing that Sera wrote some of her
best lines.  Tony would have been shocked to know that Sera was really
thinking about another play.  Some of the best scenes came to her while
she was thinking about Tony.  She had not intended to write another
play after she got married, but if Tony planned to remain a husband in
name only, she must have some outlet for her passion.

Sera usually wrote in her library until bedtime, then went upstairs
with Lady Amanda, as though she really meant to go to sleep.  But
unless she was especially tired, she got up again after Marie had left
her and worked at the small desk in her room for an hour or so, just
until she heard Tony come in.  One Friday night, he never came home.
She was able to keep at her chores for a time, promising herself that
he would come at any moment, but she heard the hall clock chime four
and began to be genuinely alarmed.  Finally there were voices under her
window.  She doused the candle and went to the open casement.

"A good night's work, Chadwick.  See you catch up on your sleep," Tony
said as he went around to the front door.  Sera was so overcome with
relief, she forgot she was not supposed to be up, and met Tony in the
dark hall with a candle.

"Sera!  What are you doing up?"

"Worrying about you, as it happens-- Why, Tony, you are filthy.  You
look as though you have been digging about in a dust heap

Good guess," Tony said, going on to his room and opening the door.

"You're not going to tell me what this is all about, are you?"  Sera
asked wryly.

"No, dearest, and don't plague Chadwick about it, either."

"Shall I ring for some bathwater for you?"  "I'll get Stewart to do it
in the morning."  "It is morning."

"So it is," Tony said cheerfully, and closed the door on her.  He
waved' Stewart back to bed, washed his face and hands and produced his
ill-gotten gains from his coat pocket; a handful of paper scraps with
straw and an occasional feather still clinging to them, along with a
few half sheets of paper, much written over.  He got out his
dictionaries and set to work.  The smaller bits were rather cryptic
orders, mostly in German, which Tony did not entirely understand even
after having translated them.  The larger pieces of paper, which
contained on one side shopping and household lists, had on the backs a
mixture of Hebrew and German and comprised bits of reports, probably
brought in by Rothschild's couriers.

The information itself was dated and of no particular interest to Tony.
It was the style of the messages he studied.  The writing was in half a
dozen hands, That was no problem.  But if he was going to fake a
message, even a brief one, his German would have to be of the right
sort, not too high or too low.  It was nothing like a code, of course,
but the average Englishman would not be able to make much out of it.
Tony sought to emulate it.

The real problem was who to have the message sent from.  The smaller
scraps that the pigeons had carried were initialed only.  If he picked
the wrong initial, the message would seem to be coming from an
impossible source and would be suspect.  He produced from his other
pocket a small chemist's vial with the end cracked off.  If need be, he
could blur the initial with water, as though the break in the vial had
let rain get to it.  That would be the safest course.  When not sure of
something, be vague.  He had the means now to trick Rothschild, but not
the opportunity.  For that he might have to wait some time.

"What's the matter?"  Sera asked the next afternoon, when Tony slumped
into the library.

"Commons has defeated the income tax," he said, lounging in a chair and
shaking his head.

"But that's disastrous.  How could it happen?"

"I don't know.  I don't half understand what is going on sometimes
myself."

"No one knows an easy way to fix the economy, but surely they must see
we have to get out of debt," Sera reasoned.

"I imagine Rothschild will be more than willing to lend money to the
government."

"Yes, what would we do without him?"  Sera asked bleakly.

"What indeed?"

"I expected you to say the whole country has gone to the moneylenders,"
she replied.

"The more I study Rothschild, the more I realize we could not have done
without him.  Had he not kept Wellington supplied with gold--well, we
would have lost the war."

"So you have finally given up this campaign of yours against
Rothschild?"

Tony arched an eyebrow at her, wondering how much she had guessed of
his scheme.  "Oh, no, I still intend to get even, in a small way.  I
also intend he shall know who did it to him."

"To-ny," Sera complained, coming to sit on the arm of his chair.

"Don't worry.  I shall keep safe," he said, taking the arm she had
draped along the back of the chair and pulling it around his neck.

"But what's to be done?"  she demanded.

"About what?"  he asked, led astray by his scrutiny of her bosom, a few
inches away.

"The country."

"Oh," he said, coming back to reality.  "Find something else to tax,
but they can't agree on anything."

"The money must come from somewhere."

"If only the Members of Parliament were as reasonable as you, Sera
dear."

"How could they be?  They are men."

"As I am," he said, chuckling and giving in to the impulse to pull her
onto his lap.

"Yes, but you are the best of the lot," she assured him with a kiss.

"If only that were so."

"Father says you could do quite well for yourself in business."

"He has given me good advice," Tony answered, wondering at the
intoxication he was feeling.  In another moment... if he wasn't very
careful... "He likes you very well," Sera said encouragingly.

"What are all these compliments in aid of?."  he asked with a rueful
smile.

"I was thinking that when 'we go to Oak Park, perhaps we could invite
Father and Lady Jane for a visit."

"Well, of course you can.  You did not have to ask me that."

"Perhaps even..."

"Oh, no, not Travesian, as well, if that was your next question."  He
made no move to dislodge her, but his touch was tense now, rather than
gentle.

"Would you mind so much?"  Sera pleaded.

"Of course I would mind.  You have to draw the line somewhere."

"Draw the line?"  she said in shock.  "If Travesian is not good enough
for Oak Park, I'm sure I'm not, either," she said, tearing herself from
his hold.  "You/need not even admit Father to your precious house."

"What?"  Tony asked.  "I don't like Travesian because he has drawn you
in with these theater people.  The fellow's a bounder."

"Far better company than Winwood, the little snitch."

"What are you talking about?"  Tony asked, pushing himself tiredly out
of the chair.

"You set Winwood to spy on me, didn't you?"

"I asked him to look after you."

"I'm not stupid, Tony.  And if you were not so blinded by his banter,
you would see he is no friend to either of

US."

"Winwood?  You must be mad.  He'd never do anything to hurt us."

"So you don't even think it's possible?"

"No, of course not."

Sera stormed up to her room, angered at Tony for being so blind. Mostly
she was angry with herself for losing her temper and bothering Tony
about Winwood.  He had enough troubles without realizing that his
cousin was a dangerous gossip.  Still, it was said, and she couldn't
take it back, no matter how much she paced and slammed her books
around.

Tony was sitting in the library, still rocking with the ache of his
desire for her, while trying to piece together what had gone so
disastrously wrong in their conversation.  He had said not to invite
Travesian.  Then he had said "Oh, no!"  He had said, "You have to draw
the line somewhere."  Sera had thought he meant the line was drawn just
the other side of her father.  What he'd meant was, he could just
barely take Travesian casually in London.  He didn't want him as a
houseguest for some weeks.  It was too demoralizing.  He felt like a
tongue-tied schoolboy when.  Sera and Travesian were talking.

It did occur to him that he should try to explain himself,

even apologize for being so clumsy, but a thump and a curse from
overhead convinced him it was not a good time.  He wondered how often
in the past he had offended her and she had taken the snub.  He could
remember many silent periods in their marriage.  At least now she was
fighting back.  If only he could hold on to her until he was free of
this monstrous debt!

Chapter Eight

It was on one of her now rare visits to the theater that Travesian
unconsciously suggested the means to solve several of Sera's
problems.

"I wish you would, at least, send regrets to these people.

I am tired of fobbing them off."

"Who?"

"The Holcrofts, for one--great admirers of your work," he said, handing
her some invitation cards addressed to Encrier.

"Perhaps I will answer these.  Is Christopher Graden in the theater
today?"

"You could not pry him away from here.  I am thinking of letting him do
one performance a week.  He is such a devoted student.  What do you
want with him?"

"I have a job for him.  I'm sure he can use the extra money."

"What are you planning?"  Travesian narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"I want him to play Encrier."

"What are you talking about?"

"At this gala of the Holcrofts'.  You have been wanting Encrier to make
an appearance, haven't you?  Well, he shall, but only if he can
persuade them to invite his patroness, Lady Cairnbrooke, with whom he
happens to be passionately in love.  Our relationship goes back a few
years, I think.  Encrier is a young nobleman disinherited by the
turmoil in France.  I am the one who encouraged him to put pen to
paper.  I even introduced him to you, who saw the value in his work and
decided to perform his plays."  "My God, that almost sounds
believable."

"It is a very likely story, not like some of your flights of fancy."

"But your husband, won't he be angry?  Not just at a renewed
association with theater people, but-- Why do you want Graden to be in
love with you?"

"Armand, don't be dense.  That is the whole point.  Tony is too sure of
me.  He thinks no other man would want me, that he has all the time in
the world to fiddle around."

"But you said that he and you were getting on well lately."

"Yes--except for the dustup yesterday.  At least we are talking.  But
if I want a brother-sister relationship, I have you..  I want a lot
more than that from Tony."

"I have never understood you two."

"I don't understand us, either, but Tony has been mellowing a little,
so I think it's time to push my advantage."  "But will it work?"

"If it doesn't, I will think of something else.  But this scheme is so
ready to hand, it is worth a try.  Is Graden as discreet as Brel?"

"He worships you already, and he can certainly use the money."

"Well, trot him out.  We haven't got all day, and there's no saying
when I can get back here again.  I will write the most extraordinary
letter to wring the invitation out of Lady Holcroft.  Would you like to
come, as well?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world.  Brel can carry the show for one
night."

"Good.  I'll coach Graden in his life story.  If I think of any other
embellishments, I'll send them over with Made."

"There's only one thing," Travesian added.  "Graden is an unknown now.
What if he ever becomes famous?  People will remember he played this
part."

"Or they may assume Graden and Encrier are one.  There's no harm in
that.  I certainly have no use for the identity."

"His lack of French accent?"

"His parents are French.  He was educated in England, sent here to keep
him safe-- Have I got to think of everything myself?."

Sera dispatched her most convincing letter to Lady Holcroft, with
Encrier's flourishing signature, and sat back to await events, only to
discover that it was not true that they were not invited anywhere.  She
received an invitation for her and Tony to dine and spend an evening at
cards with Lady Parmiter.  She half expected Tony to toss it aside but
he did not, merely consenting as though it were his duty.  Sera looked
forward to a dull evening.  She might have been better off if her
expectations had been fulfilled.

They arrived at Lady Parmiter's early.  The Vonnes arrived late, just
before they were to be seated for dinner.  Tony looked angrily at Lady
Parmiter.

"I wish you would lower your hackles," Sera whispered, with a forced
smile.  "At least this explains why Lady Par-miter invited us.  It will
be a challenge 'to see if we can disappoint her appetite for scandal.
How good an actor are you?"

"Not so practiced as you, I fear."

Sera looked at him in a puzzled way, but he only smiled and held her
chair for her.  She shrugged and smiled back, glancing at Lady
Parmiter's expectant face.  Somehow it did not surprise her that they
were there to amuse everyone.  But the sly look that passed from Win to
Lady Parmiter struck her to the heart.  It was an awful thought that
the lazy Winwood, mischief-maker though he was, would do anything so
malicious.

They might have passed the evening well enough, but Lady Parmiter
seated Sera beside Vonne, across from Tony and Madeleine.  There was a
titter of laughter as the twenty-odd people found their seats and
glanced at the four of them.  It was one thing to confront the Vonnes
at a ball, where many people were invited, but to be thrown in their
faces for an entire evening was sheer provocation.

Madeleine was oddly flushed, almost as though she anticipated the
crisis to come.  Vonne's face was set in a more or less permanent scowl
these days, so one never knew how angry he was, Sera sighed and
directed an amused look around the table, which startled more than one
of the guests.  She wondered what Lady Parmiter and Win thought would
happen.  One did not usually set match to powder without some
expectation of an explosion.

Instead, Sera started the blandest conversation one could imagine with
Lord Vonne, distracting him from his scrutiny of Tony.

"I hear you are quite a sportsman.  Where is your country place?"

"Wingham is near Canterbury, not far from the coast."  "Is the country
good for riding?"

"Not hunting--too flat and marshy.  There's some good sport to be had
hunting ducks and the like, and I keep my birds there."

"Pheasants?"

"No, pigeons."

"Lord Vonne has some of the best racing pigeons in the country," Tony
said helpfully.  Vonne looked at Tony in a puzzled way.  Madeleine
stared at him, as well.  She was prepared for a scene, not all this
mundane talk of hunting.  Looks of amusement now fell on the fuming
Lady Parmiter.

"I'm sure this seems like a silly question, but how does one induce a
pigeon to race?"  Sera asked.  Vonne laughed, and his charm relieved
the tension in the room.  "Well, it is not as though there is a jockey
to bring him to the winning post," Sera added.

"There is something much more important at work.  The birds are
released at a' measured distance, and the time when each arrives
recorded," Vonne explained.

"But where do they arrive?"

"Their respective cock lofts They will always fly home, if they can.
That's why time and distance are important."

"I suppose it may not be as exciting as a horse race, but there must be
some suspense in waiting for them."

"Especially for a long race--seventy or eighty' miles "That far?"  Sera
asked politely.

"They can fly farther than that," Tony said helpfully.  "I didn't know
you were interested in racing pigeons," Vonne said, almost as though
they were the most casual of acquaintances.

"A recent passion of mine."

Vonne arched an eyebrow at the word passion, suspecting Tony of batting
him.

"How far can they go?"  Sera asked, pleased that she was boring all the
ladies and interesting all the men.

"Well over a hundred miles," Vonne assured her.  "I plan to organize a
hundred-mile race next year."

"Amazing that they always come home."  Sera's smile was arrested as a
sudden look of realization lit up her face.  Tony could almost see her
mind work, and wished desperately that she would not blurt out what she
was thinking.  Whether she read his thoughts or simply discarded the
idea, Tony could not tell.  At any rate, she looked back at Vonne and
smiled.

"You still prefer horse races, I suppose," Vonne said indulgently.

"Well, there is something to admire about your birds, but there is more
spectacle to a horse race."

"I have been trying to get Tony to pit Satan against my black," Win
said.

"That's Satin," Tony corrected.

"Well, he was called Satan before you owned him.  Do you think Satan
could beat Raven, Sera?"

"If Tony rides him, yes."

"We shall have jockeys, of course, to match the weight."  "Win, you can
ride, perhaps not all that well, but--" "I shall be busy taking
bets."

"It won't work, then.  Tony can't put some unsuspecting boy up on
Satin.  We should be hours looking for the child's body."

Tony laughed at the shocked silence this created.  "What the devil do
you mean, Sera?"  Win demanded.

"Satin has a few tricks," Tony supplied.  "Carrying one into tree limbs
and such.  It makes for an interesting ride."

"Tony, I wonder that you should keep such a dangerous hose," Madeleine
scolded.

'

"Oh, I didn't buy him.  Sera bought him for me."  "You?"  Vonne
questioned.  "Whatever possessed you?"  "He is a magnificent animal,"
Sera assured him.  "It was a wedding present.  Have you seen the lovely
mare Tony gave me?"

They had all seen.  Tony and Sera riding together and, since the lively
Lady Cairnbrooke had turned the conversation toward horses, the rest of
the dinner was consumed safely enough, to the chagrin of Lady
Parmiter.

Sera was busy scrutinizing Lady Parmiter's engravings in the drawing
room when the gentlemen came in.  Vonne came over to her rather
urgently.

"Is there something you wanted to say to me?"  Sera asked, looking up
at him.

"I have only one thing to say to you, madame, and that is to keep a
tighter rein on your husband."

"But I thought the evening was going remarkably well, considering we
were all thrown together deliberately for someone's amusement."

"Whose?  Not Madeleine's, although she is an intimate of Lady
Parmiter."

"If that is so, perhaps it is you, sir, who should keep a tighter rein
on your wife."

"If I discover that the two of them connived at this disaster
together..."

"If you will recall, Madeleine was the one who blushed.  Even she, with
her love for the melodramatic, would not have set up such a scene."

"Well, I know it wasn't you."

"It was Winwood, if I am any reader of faces."  "Cairnbrooke's
cousin?"

"Yes, and here I was thinking him only foolish."

"I've heard it said the fellow would do anything for a joke, but
really!"

"Don't feel so set-upon.  I think he uses a lot of people--Tony,
Madeleine, even Lady Parmiter.  You will observe that Win is still
having a good time, whereas Lady Parmiter is taking a pet."

"But he doesn't use you," Vonne said in amazement.

"He doesn't know me very well.  If it becomes important, I will warn
Tony about him."

Vonne stared at her as though adjusting his estimation of her.  "In the
meantime, you have to pretend to like him, have him in your house."

-I am rather good at pretending to like people.  That's why my father's
dinners were such successes.  Oh, don't look at me so.  I really do
genuinely like most of Fat.her's friends."

"What about Tony's friends?"

"They are, for the most part, harmless enough, and more amusing than
bankers and lawyers."

"Do you ever pretend with me?"

"I think we two deal together more to the point than many a man and
wife," Sera said, regarding him steadily.  "We have so little time to
talk, and only one end in mind, to preserve our respective
marriages."

"I could wish that I had met you before I met Madeleine."

"But that is not what happened.  You fell in love with her and I with
Tony."

"And they love each other.  This is like being in hell," he whispered
passionately.

"Nonsense.  You are getting as melodramatic as your wife.  Tony may not
love me yet, but I do not think he is all that attached to Madeleine
anymore."

"You are incurably infected with optimism.  Left to their own devices,
they would be in each other's arms in a moment."

"I don't believe that at all."

"I can have Madeleine watched day and night, but there is no way you
can keep track of your husband."

"There must be a solution.  We have only to think of it."  "I have
faced this problem several times before.  Usually a bullet in the
shoulder is enough to discourage a man."  Vonne glared at Tony.

"You must be an excellent shot, to keep your head under those
conditions."

"Guilt is a great handicap for my opponent.  Did your husband tell you
he fired in the air?"

Sera looked at him thoughtfully.  "No, he has never spoken of it."

"What do you mean to do?"

"If you can put off shooting Tony again until my time is up, I mean to
win him."

"How?"

"I won't do it with my beauty."

"Why do you say that?"  Vonne asked, regarding her appraisingly and
finding nothing amiss.

"Compared to Madeleine?"

"I see what you mean."  He glanced across the room to where his wife
had taken a seat on a sofa between Winwood and another man.  Tony was
leaning against the door-frame with a puzzled expression.  Vonne
scowled at him again on general principles.

"I don't suppose she is beginning to lose her looks,"

Sera said hopefully, regarding Lady Vonne.  "She is a few years older
than Tony, isn't she?"

"Yes, but she is as beautiful as the day I first met her."  "I was
afraid of that."

Vonne gave a snort of laughter.

"I will just have to take a page from your book."  "What page?"
"Guilt," Sera said.

"Impossible.  Your husband is shameless in his infatuation, now that he
thinks he has been absolved by a bullet.  He has no guilt."

"He has where I am concerned.  I assure you, he is vastly improved
since we have been married."

"I'll have to take your word for that.  He seems to me as foolish as
ever."

"Remember our bargain."

"You had better work fast.  You have less than a fortnight to wean him
away from her."

Sera nodded her understanding.  She had tried to hate this man who
might be her husband's executioner, but she Could not.  She had never
met such a tortured soul in her life, except perhaps for Tony.

"I still wish I had known you before Madeleine."

Sera was surprised to realize he had been stating at her, not Madeleine
or Tony.  "Then you would have had to court me in my cradle, sir.  If I
mistake not, you are old enough to be my father."

"Perhaps I am your father," Vonne said with a wink as he patted her
hand.

Sera laughed her rich laugh, and Vonne chuckled with her.  Tony looked
at them uncomfortably.  Madeleine was in a state of shock.  She had
never in her life before experienced the gnawing of jealousy at her
selfish heart, so she had no idea why she was feeling so ill-used.

Sera pondered Vonne's half-serious sally as Lady Parmiter was choosing
up partners for the cards.  If she had met Vonne first, Sera thought,
she could have loved him quite easily.  But that was not what had
happened.  She had met Tony first, and her vows to him were permanent,
whether he liked it or not.  It was only that Vonne was so easy to
know, like a character in a play that you could grasp in a few short
hours.  That she could pierce to his heart and read it did not surprise
her.  That she could not do the same with her own husband was
frustrating, but she began now to think that was part of his
attraction.

In the cards that followed, Sera had occasion to observe Tony's
patience taxed to the extreme when he was partnered by Madeleine.  Even
his so obviously skillful play could not make up for her lack of
attention.  Sera thought that Lord Vonne even cast him a look of rueful
sympathy.  If Tony was still in love with Madeleine, it did not show
that night.

When Sera and Tony were paired together, they were invincible, even
though they had never before played whist together.  They thought so
much alike, Sera finally felt in tune with him.  The important thing
was that Tony seemed pleased with her.  That and the total effect of
the evening, despite Vonne's second warning, was so encouraging that
Sera was quite glad they had been invited.

Yet in the carriage Tony seemed disinclined to speak.  She could cope
with his mood changes and said nothing to ruin the evening.  He was
like a pond she could not see to the bottom off Perhaps Tony could' not
see there, either.  Perhaps he was not so much unknown as unformed.
That, too, was part of his attraction.  He was not a complete
character, like Vonne, but a rarity, a man not so set in his ways that
he could not yet be changed by a woman.  It seemed to Sera a
frightening responsibility.  But when she thought of what she would
change about Tony, she thought only of the awful Times which he held
between them each morning like a wall.  If she could only get rid of
the Time& she thought absurdly, she would really be able to talk to
Tony.

She forgot to tell Rayburn to deny her to company, so Win entered to
break up her day.  At least he had not arrive at breakfast, as he
sometimes did.

"Lady Parmiter is seeing Fauntley."

"That's four," Sera said, without looking up from her work.  "Much as I
dislike her, even I doubt Lady Parmiter would run to so many affairs at
once.  If I--if one wrote a play about it, no one would believe it."

"Women have the same capacities as men.  Don't you ever wonder where
Tony goes at night?"  Win asked Sera.  "You must.  No woman is so
ingenuous that she could imagine all his nights to be spent in innocent
amusement."

"What business is it of yours what Tony does at night?"  Sera asked
resentfully.

"I care about you, Sera, more than Tony does.  That's obvious.  Else he
would stay home with you once in a while, instead of wallowing in
Madeleine's bed."

"He can't be!"  Sera flung her pen down.

"Where else is he, then?"

"I don't know, but someday he will tell me."

"You are either a fool or an innocent."

"And you are a troublemaker," she said, rising from her chair.  "I used
to think you only gossiped about others, but too many things have got
out about us.  You probably tell worse lies about me than you do about
other people."  "Who have you been talking to?"

"Clive Falcrest.  He told me you would bet on anything."  "Everyone
does.  What does that have to do with--"

"He told me you bet that Tony would go back to Madeleine."

"The fellow must have been drunk."

"He was, of course, which is why he told me the truth."

"Well, what if I did?  An easy hundred, the rate Tony is going."

"That should make up for your other losses."

"Which Ones?"  Win asked vaguely.

"Betting Tony would win the duel with Vonne."  "Falcrest told you
that?"

"It's true.  I'm sure of it, for William tried to hush him up."

"What if it is?  At least I bet on Tony, not against him."  "You don't
see anything wrong with it at all?"

"No, I do not, and you have no right to take me to task for it, anyway.
You are not my mother, or even related to me, so you have no right to
say anything."

Tony had just entered through the front door and tossed his hat tiredly
on the hall table.  The sound of argument from Sera's library was not
new to him, and he smiled as he made his way in that direction.

"Win, the only thing that saves you from being malicious," Sera said
loudly, "is your silliness."

"Silly, am I?"  Win countered, just as Tony pushed the door open.

Sera saw her husband first, and sat down, flushing hotly.  "Tony, we
didn't hear you come in," Win said calmly.

"I'm not surprised, over that din," Tony said, helping himself to a
clean cup and some tea.  "Why is Win silly?"

"He will bet on anything," Sera blurted out, tempted to tell Tony of
the gossip that had come her way.

Tony laughed.  "A bored man will bet on anything, even the weather or
the outcome of war, or even if an old man will make it across the
street or not."

"You don't see anything wrong with it, either!"  said Sera in shocked
tones.

"It's harmless enough."

"It shows a terrible insensitivity."

"Perhaps you are right, my dear."

"Don't agree with me like that!"  Sera slammed a book down on the desk,
causing Tony and Win to exchange knowing looks.

"Would you rather I disagreed with you?"

"Yes, anything rather than being so patronizing.  You say, "Yes, dear,"
as though you are patting a child on the head, when I know all the time
you are not taking me seriously."

Win continued to laugh, but Tony paused and stared at

Sera when he realized that was exactly what he had done.  "I'm sick of
both of you."  Sera gathered her papers and sought the refuge of the
small desk in her bedroom.  She amused herself by writing some truly
heinous lines for Win to say.  Once she could hear her imaginary
audience laughing at him, she felt satisfied.  The only problem was
that Win was so stupid he would never recognize himself as the
character Dimwood.

Chapter Nine

Sera could not stay angry at Tony.  She'loved him too much.  But
neither did she apologize to him.  She did not ask him what he wanted
for breakfast the next morning; she merely poured his coffee in
silence.

He took her frostiness in good humor, for he did begin to see that she
was right.  Normally they conversed more or less equally, but when Win
was about, poking fun, Tony conceded, some of Win's attitude did rub
off on' him He would have to watch himself.

"It says here that The Count is a success, and the performances have
continued without interruption in spite of different actors playing the
lead.  I'm glad you are well out of that," said Tony, smiling at her.

"Yes, so am I," Sera said absently.  "Tony, do we have to see so very
much of Win?  He is a terrible nuisance sometimes."

"More so than Wentworth, or your other morning callers?"

"Yes, for Win is here every day."

"It's only till the season is over.  I expect he will go visit his
mother in Paris then."

"You haven't invited him to Oak Park?"  "No.  I won't, if you don't
wish it."  "Passionately!"

Tony laughed.  "Then I won't invite him."

"You don't suppose he would just show up, as sure of his welcome as he
is at the breakfast table?"

"Not the whole way to Oak Park.  He's a very lazy fellow.  Besides, he
is much in demand in the winter months to liven up dull house parties.
Depend upon it, he would not even be able to work us into his schedule
if we did ask

"Then I shall have something to look forward to."

"Is that all you have to look forward to?  Going back to Oak Park?"

"London has gotten so very complicated."

"Would you like to fide this morning?  We are likely to get caught in
the rain."

"I don't care."

Tony was at his most charming for the fide.  He usually was, when he
had upset her and he knew it.  It wasn't anything he said."  He just
enjoyed himself and showed it and did not own to any preoccupations
other than delighting Sera.  They were in Hyde Park when the rain
asserted itself.  They raced the thunderclouds home, and lost, but
pulled up in the yard, laughing in spite of being soaked.

Sera was content to let Tony go off after the ride had patched things
up between them.  Marie helped her strip off her wet riding habit and
don a comfortable dressing gown until her hair had dried.  Sera thought
she was beginning to see a way for them to live together.  She had only
to hold her love back a little, but it was hard.  She decided to set
down on paper all the endearing things she could not say to Tony, might
never get to say to him.  Such passion would sound funny to an
unreceptive husband, and yet she had to say it to someone, even if it
was only the anonymous sheet of paper.

She was so engaged when Rayburn came up to say, with a raised eyebrow,
that Travesian waited below.  Sera wondered while she dressed what
would bring Travesian to the house so unexpectedly, unless he had found
time to read her first scenes for Lady Tarmiter.

"Don't look at me so," Travesian said, as she closed the door behind
her.  "I had to come.  I've read the scenes Marie brought to me, and
they are wonderful.  Your notes record the gestures so minutely.  Other
actors will look like marionettes compared to ours."

Sera sat down, smiling at Travesian's enthusiasm.  "And you put in a
song, just for me."  "One only, to keep us legal."

"And a part for me--Lord Tarmiter."

"Of course."

"Josette is you, isn't she?"

"In a way, but don't expect me to fill in for her.  Do you know an
actress who can handle the part?"

"We have nine months to find one.  Brel will play Fabrel, that is
obvious."

"Who can we get for Dimwood?  Anyone silly enough to be convincing
might be too stupid to memorize the lines."

"You don't think much of Tony's cousin, do you?  Lucky he is family, or
we might be in trouble with this one.  When can you have it
finished?"

"Possibly before we leave London.  I should like to get it all down
while it is fresh in my mind."

"That will leave plenty of time to get it printed.  Sera?"  "What?"

"Fabrel--he's really Tony, isn't he?"

"Yes.  Do you think he will recognize himself?."  Sera asked
pensively.

"Hard to say.  He is more acute than I used to think."  "I, too, have
revised my opinion of Tony.  Still, I expect too much of him.  He is,
after all, only a man.  One can't expect him to really understand
women."

"I am a man, and I understand women."

"You think you do, and no one has ever corrected you.  Look at how
often we do not see eye to eye."

"You can't assume all men are stupid."  Travesian rose and looked at
her.

"No, of course not.  Let's just say they overlook the obvious
sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"You tell me how the play will end, if you are such a smart man."

"Happily, of course."  Travesian paced as he recited.  "Lord Tarmiter
will find out about his wife's perfidy and shut her up in the country.
Josett and Fabrel will discover Dimwood has been lying to both of them,
and will fall into each other's arms."

"No, it won't end that easily.  Fabrel must do something truly tn
usual

"Vanquish Dimwood, of course."

"That, too, but he must Understand Josette, what she wants.  Otherwise
she will not come back to him."

"He will pledge her his undying love."  Travesian knelt and took her
hand, as if to demonstrate.  "Not good enough!"  "What more can there
be?"

"Until you can answer that question, you cannot be said to understand
women."  She rose and started from the room.  "Don't leave me in
suspense.  What is it?"

"I think I will leave you in suspense," she turned to say.

"It should be interesting to see if you can guess."  "Jewels, a diamond
necklace?"  he guessed.  "Please ... leave me alone now.  I have work
to do."  She walked out and left him puzzling over this new start of
hers.  Travesian thought that if he could say how Sera was different,
he could grasp the riddle of Josette, as well.

"Hello, Tony, were you looking for some ink?"  Sera asked as she
breezed into her library to find her husband crouched over her desk.

"As a matter of fact, I was, but I found these instead."

"What?"  she asked, putting down the book she was carrying.

"Poems--love poems."  "Oh, those, I told you Ira" "Who wrote them?
Travesian?"  "Travesian?  Of course not."

"Vonne, then?  Tell me.  It could have been Wentworth.  He is always
hanging about, and he is a poet."

"He is writing a play.  It is not the same thing at all.  What is the
matter with you?"  Sera had no inkling why Tony Would be so angry over
her writing poetry, but he took such odd starts, her only thought was
to placate him.

Your hands, folded, waiting, fascinate with Unspent force,

Suddenly spring to life to write, gesture, rein a horse,

Sometimes they reach for me, only with dutiful politeness,

Never with the eagerness mine reach for an un given caress.

"What rot is this?"  he demanded.

"It is not rot!"  Sera said, trying to grab the papers.

"Does Wentworth read these to you when you ,-neet secretly?"

"He does not read these to me, and we do not meet secretly.  He comes
to tea," she said tearfully.

"Do you suppose it matters what time of day it is, if he 'makes love to
you?"

"But he doesn't.  He's just a foolish boy."

"And I suppose it is flattering to have pretty speeches made to you."

"When you are not used to it."

"Don't expect the like from me.  I am no troubadour.  I'll show you
what I think of Wentworth," Tony said, tearing the papers in half.

"They are not Wentworth's," said Sera, trying to pull them from his
hands.

"Encrier's, then.  Yes, that is much more likely."  "Encrier is not
even--" She looked at Tony's flushed face.  He was more than angry.
This was no time to break the news about her plays.

"So he did write them," Tony concluded when she remained silent.

"Yes, Encrier wrote them," Sera agreed, with an angry blush.

Tony lighted the sheaf of papers on the candle.

"No, you must not," Sera said as she grabbed them and smacked out the
flames on her blotter.  They seemed to her at that moment to be the
essence of her secret love for Tony, and to have him try to destroy
that love, however symbolically, was not something she could stand idly
by and watch.

"You love him so much you would burn your hands to get them back?"

"They're all I have," she said, sniffing a little, for she had singed
her fingers.  Tony turned on his heel and left.  Sera had only meant
that the scorched Papers were her only copies.

Tony thought she had finally turned to another for the love he had so
long denied her.  Even if it had only run to the extent of a few poems,
she had already ceased loving him.  He sorted through his feelings like
a man rifling his childhood treasure box.  Finally he began to put
things away, first his despair over his brother, a selfish grief, then
the grief he had pretended for his father.

He began to empty the secret place in his heart, as a man would smile
sadly and toss to a friend's child the tops and balls of his youth.
Lastly, there was his ridiculous affair with Madeleine, her desperate
pleas, passionate scenes and tearstained notes.  They seemed silly now,
compared to Sera's patience and constancy.  He admired Sera's strength,
and her achievements.  He realized now she was his greatest treasure,
but had he let her slip away from him?

How could she understand him so well, when he did not know the smallest
part of what she was about?  The same way she loved him, he supposed,
by taking the bad with the good.  He rather thought that up until now
she had gotten a bad bargain.

Breakfast was more silent than ever, if that was possible.  Lady Amanda
joined them, and was sorry she had intruded.  Anything she said seemed
forced.

Then she noticed Sera's fingers.  "You have burned your hand, child."

"It's nothing," Sera muttered.

"But she managed to save the poems," Tony gibed.  "What are you talking
about?"  his mother demanded.  "That French playwright has been sending
her love poems, and probably making pretty speeches to her behind my
back."

"What of it?  Someone should send her poems, yes, and flowers, too."

"She is my wife, and I won't have it."

"Don't talk about me as though I'm not here, as though I am a thing and
not a person."

"Very well, you are my wife--"

"And you are an idiot!"  Sera jumped up so suddenly she overturned her
tea.  Tony was still blotting at the tablecloth by the time she got to
her room.

"What does she want from me?"  he demanded.  of his mother.

"Not pretty speeches, it appears, but a kind word would not come amiss
now and again."

"You always take her Side."

"I watch you both tread the path your father and I took so many years
ago, and it grieves me.  At least Sera listens to me.  But she is
helpless to turn back.  If this marriage is to be saved, you must stop
seeing Madeleine."

"I am not seeing Madeleine!"-Tony shouted, so loud the whole staff must
have heard him.

"Just like your father, always shouting.  Nobody likes it, you know."

Tony stormed out of the house.

This running to her room in tears was very wearing.  Sera was not used
to being such a watering pot.  She forced herself to go down to her
library and begin a cheerful letter to Sir Timothy.  She had nearly
finished this when Rayburn informed her that the Falcrest ladies, and
Mrs.  Weir, were waiting in the morning room.  Sera did not feel much
like having company, but she had not the heart to turn away their few
faithful callers, since it was such a long drive to Marsham Street.
Besides, these were her favorites, such frank women--they always made
her laugh.  Lady Amanda was already being entertained by them as she
poured them tea.

"Sera, child, you look tired," Victoria said

"No, she's been crying," Marissa corrected.  "Can't you see how red her
eyes are?"

Sera laughed.  "Guilty on both counts, but not over anything as
important even as spilt milk."  Sera received a cup of tea from Lady
Amanda, and a smile.  "What have you all been up to?  You look like you
are bursting with news."

"We think we know who Encrier is!"  Marissa said excitedly.

Sera rattled her cup and saucer together.  "Whatever do you mean?
Encrier is Encrier."

"She means she thinks she has seen him," Elizabeth corrected.  "He was
leaving the theater when we drove past."  "Sera, have you met him?"
Marissa asked.

"Yes, of course.  What is so astonishing about that?"  "You must be the
only person in London who even knows what he looks like.  Describe him
for us," Marissa commanded.

"Such nonsense," Victoria said, "over a playwright.  You will not get
him to come to your masquerade.  Depend upon it."

Sera took a sip of tea and called up Graden's face.  It was different
from Brel's, but not so one would notice much.  "He's not above average
height, handsome, I suppose, in a boyish way, brown hair.  His eyes, I
believe, are hazel, but I could be wrong.  The theater is never well
lit."

"But what is he like?"  Elizabeth clasped her hands together.

"Very soft-spoken, and not at all arrogant.  He is more an observer
than one who shows off.  I suppose that is how he came by such insights
so young."

"Mr.  Cairnbrooke," Rayburn intoned, in that ominous way he reserved
only for Winwood.

Winwood hesitated a moment on the threshold, realizing he had to
compete for Sera's attention with the redoubtable Falcrests, but he
could not back down.  It wasn't that they put him out of countenance,
for he let their cuts slide off his back, but they had a way of
dominating the conversation, and Winwood was used to being the center
of attention.

"You are rather late today, Winwood," Lady Amanda said, by way of
recognizing him, as she 'handed him a cup of tea.

"I had one or two---"

"Don't chide the boy, Amanda," Marissa said.  "Some days it takes him
longer to gather his gossip than others.  Or perhaps no one strayed
last night, and there is no news."  She took a determined bite of
cake.

Elizabeth could not suppress a chuckle.  "Where do you hear so much,
Winwood?"

"If you must know, at the clubs."

"I knew it," said Marissa.  "I always said men were worse gossips than
women."

"Men just know more," Win said defensively.

"Then you must know where Encrier lives," Marissa accused.

"Who?"

"You don't even know who we are talking about," Elizabeth scolded.
"Encrier, the playwright.  Surely you've seen The Count."

"Well, of course I have.  Why would I care where the fellow lives?"

"Everyone wants to know who he is, his history," Elizabeth said
wistfully.

"Well, I don't," Win vowed.

"Mr.  Wentworth," Rayburn announced tiredly.  "I shall get more cups
and saucers."  It was the way Rayburn gave the two announcements equal
weight that made Wentworth sidle into the formidable gathering.  It did
not help that Win-wood sneered at him.  Sera forced herself to smile at
Wentworth and, thus encouraged, he pulled a chair up near hers.

As the babble about Encrier continued, he confessed that he was writing
a play--well, the first act, anyway.  Against her better judgment, Sera
volunteered to read it, but was taken aback when he pulled out an
alarming number of papers.

"Sera, you find out where he lives," Marissa commanded.  "I want to
send him an invitation to our masquerade.  It is sure to be a success
if everyone knows the mysterious Encrier is there."

"You may send it to Travesian at the theater," Sera advised her.  "He
will see that Encrier gets it."

"You're pretty thick with this fellow, Encrier, aren't you?"  Win asked
pointedly.

"I know him, and I promise you he is nothing out of the ordinary.  He
is only uncommon in that he is not much like other men."

"A quill-pusher.  I should think not."

"He fides better than you, Win," Sera said angrily, without really
knowing if it were true, "but he has his own measure.  He doesn't have
to prove anything to anybody.  All he wants is to tell stories and make
people laugh."

"That's wonderful," Wentworth said worshipfully.  "Do you think I could
meet him someday?"

"Do you have an invitation to the Holcrofts' next week?"  Sera asked.
"I think he may be there."

"No, I don't even know the Holcrofts."

"Perhaps something can be arranged," Marissa volunteered.  "I'm rather
good at that sort of thing.  Just write down your direction for me."

"I should be most grateful," Wentworth said, presenting his card.

"Sera, just where did you meet Encrier?"  Win prodded.  "Don't tell me.
At that blasted theater.  I'm sure Travesian was more than happy to
introduce you."

"Encrier is working on a new play, with a character named Dimwood,"
Sera said.  "I can't think where he could have met you, Win, but I did
think I should warn you ahead of time that you might be satirized."

"He wouldn't dare!"

All the Falcrests laughed.

"And why not, with such material?"  Lady Amanda asked.

"Would.  you like me to read you the first scene of my play?" Wentworth
asked.

"God, look at the time!"  Winwood said, dragging out his watch.  He
nearly dumped his tea in his haste to take his leave of them all.  None
of the ladies were proof against such a threat, either, and even Lady
Amanda remembered a vital shopping errand just in time to escort them
out.  Sera had never seen a room empty so fat in her life, but she had
promised Wentworth, so she composed herself to be kind.

The lines were sincere and sincerely spoken, but they consisted of a
man repeating over and over again in as many ways as he could how much
he loved a woman.  There was nothing novel about it, and Sera had to
bite her tongue to keep from halting Wentworth with a scathing
criticism, and also to keep from falling asleep.  She wondered if her
first work could have been so callow.  Never!  Why did men know all
about making love and nothing about what a woman really wanted?  She
did not want to be bored to death, for one thing.  She wanted the
unexpected, the unusual.

Sera had that in Tony, she reflected.  There could not be another
husband like him in the world, Sera let her mind wander to Tony,
wondering what drove him or, more to the point, what restrained him.
For it did seem at times that he was just on the point of loving her,
but something kept him from it.

"Well, what do you think of the first scene?"  Wentworth asked
breathlessly.

"I don't know what restrains him," Sera said vaguely.  "But he is
entirely unrestrained, Lady Cairnbrooke."  "What?  Oh, yes, but I meant
mentally.  Tell you what.  Leave this with me, and I will go over it
again.  May I write on this copy?"

"I would be pleased for any help.  May I call again tomorrow?"

Once she was alone, Sera took herself to task for nearly offending
young Wentworth, She went directly to the library and forced herself to
read through his scenes as a punishment for being inattentive.  To her
surprise, she discovered that he did have something to say.  It was
just obscured by passion.  Sera began to take him mor seriously.  She
also began to worry that the object of his attentions on paper might
unconsciously be herself.

She ruthlessly chinged Blair, the male lead, but she went after Gloria
with an ax.  Sera gave her some backbone, and the temper to dash cold
water on her overheated swam.  She also prepared in her own mind a
lecture for Wentworth on character conflict.  Unless his hero met with
some female fortitude, Gloria would not make it to the third scene with
her virtue intact, let alone the third act.

* *

As she waited for Wentworth's visit the next day, Sera was doing
research for her new play, which meant getting out a great number of
books and spreading them all over the library as she made her notes.
Win blundered in unannounced.  She looked up in case it might be Tony,
then went up the ladder to get a volume of Diderot.

"Good morning, Win."

"It's afternoon.  Are you doing anything?"

"Well, what dos it look like?"  Sera asked, coming down the ladder.

"I mean, are you doing anything important?"

"Yes, I am.  What was it you wanted?"  she asked, sitting back down
again and giving him her reluctant attention.

"How like you, Sera dear.  You stay home, calmly reading, while Tony is
making love to Madeleine."  Win sat on the edge of her desk.

He Tis doing no such thing, and you are no friend to him to lie to me
like this."

"I'm not lying."

"As you said yourself, it is the middle of the afternoon.

Tony is not with Madeleine."

"I meant at night."

"if you meant at night, why didn't you say at night?"  Sera demanded.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?  He is making a fool of you."  '

"The only fool here is you."

"Bad enough your guests insult me."  Win stood up and paced the room.
"How can you speak tome like that, when I have only your best interests
at heart?"

"Then why are you trying to break us up?  You can't gain by it,
except--" Sera realized she had the wrong volume and went back up the
ladder.

"You should know what people are saying behind your back."

"Probably only whatever you put into their heads.  You can't make a
thing true, Win, just by repeating it over and over."

"Sera, I care about you more than you can imagine."  "Except if Tony
and I are estranged, it would mean no heirs," Sera said, suddenly
working it out.  "Then you would eventually profit by whatever Tony
makes of his estate."

"That mountain of debt?"  Win questioned from the bottom of the
ladder.

"Perhaps not such a mountain anymore."  Sera turned to glare at him.
"You see, I think I know what Tony is up to,

and it is innocent, although I doubt he finds it amusing."  "What?"

"I've an inkling Tony is engaged in trade firsthand--a scandalous
pursuit for a gentleman, of course.  And if word of it gets about, I
will know who spread it," she threatened, turning sideways on the
ladder.

"Sera, I want you," Win said passionately, clasping her about the legs
and pinning her precariously to the ladder.

When Sera raised her arms, Win interpreted it as.  a welcome to his
rushing embrace.  He did not observe that she was holding a large book
in her hands.  She brought the volume down with enough force to stun
him and bring him to his knees..  Letting loose of the volume, she
grasped the ladder with both hands until it steadied.  Once she had
descended safely, she threw a glass of water in Win's face to revive
him.  She did not want to have to explain this lapse to Tony.

"What did you hit me with, anyway?"  Win asked petulantly when he came
to himself.

"A volume of Diderot's encyclopedia.  I've always found it a useful
work."

"A little heavy for my taste," said Win, feeling the cut and lump on
the top of his head.

"Why did you make up to me?  Did you think I would be an easy mark?"

"Tony doesn't want you."

"He doesn't want me mined, either."

"He gave me leave to look after you."

"Which is not the same as giving you license to seduce me.  Did you
merely mean to break up our marriage, or to make sure the first child I
bore was yours, not his?  Either would suit your purpose.  You are,
after all, his heir."  She could tell by the shock on Win's face that
this last accusation caught him off guard.  But was that because he was
innocent, or only because he was surprised she suspected his
intentions?

"Not only that, but unless I miss my guess, you are the one who led
Chadie to the moneylenders.  You as good as mined him, you know."

"I never mean any harm."

"Perhaps not, but you achieve a great deal of it."  "I suppose this
means you won't want me around."  "And let Tony know his cousin is a
back-stabber?"

"We are hardly likely to make each other charming company anymore."

"Nonsense.  I find you quite charming.  I simply don't trust you," said
Sera, climbing the library ladder to replace the volume.

"I never knew such a cold-blooded woman."

The door opened, and Tony entered to find Sera on the ladder and Win
robbing his head.  "Cold-blooded?  What has Sera done now?"

Win started, but Sera merely replied, "Dropped a book on his head.  You
would think I had killed him."  Sera gestured with the book, and Win
backed away a pace.

Tony went to look at his head.  "You have left a gash here.  Shall we
have Made look at it?"

"Good idea," Sera agreed.  "She's a dab at setting.  stitches."

"I think I'll have my own man look at it," ventured Win, gently feeling
his head and leaving.

"Your library is a dangerous place," Tony commented.  "You are more
right than you know," Sera said as she seated herself at her desk,
trying to calm the flush that had risen to her cheeks.  If she and Tony
were in the habit of talking about anything intimate, she might have
told him of Win's advances, but she was quite sure Win would be able to
twist whatever she said to make it seem that it was her fault, or that
she was deluding herself.  She would have to handle Win on her own. 
She had only to keep a heavy book by her.

Chapter Ten

Since Tony had shown some inclination to be jealous, Sera decided to
continue with her plan to bring him face-to-face with Encrier.  She
received the invitation she had requested as Encrier, and informed Tony
they were going to a party at the Holcrofts' on Saturday.  Tony looked
mulish at first.  "Can't Win take you?  I'm sure he has nothing better
to

Sera toyed with the idea of letting Tony merely hear talk of her tend
re for the playwright, but she did not think it would be nearly as
effective as if he actually saw her flirting with someone else.  She
became aware that her silence was too drawn out.

"I think you should go, Tony," Lady Amanda advised.  "Sera won't even
know most of these people.  You should be there with her, even if you
do take yourself off to the card room."

"If it comes to that, I won't know most of them myself.  They are more
the literary crowd," countered Tony.

"That's it," said Sera, finally hitting on an excuse.  "I don't believe
Win was invited."

"How do you know that?  Win is invited everywhere."

"He always tells me where he is going, and he didn't mention it.
Besides, he isn't invited everywhere."

"He may be a ramshackle fellow when it comes to paying his debts, but
his ton is good.  Besides, he will tolerate standing up with any old
spinster his hostess points him at."

"Have you ever wondered why he acts so agreeable?"  "Just lazy, I
suppose.  He always was."

"He runs on so, people talk to him.  And he is so irresponsible in what
he says, people tend not to guard their tongues around him."

"What are you saying?"

"He is a gossip, Tony.  Perhaps a delightful one, but a talebearer
nonetheless."

"Don't look down on Win just because he amuses himself in a way usually
reserved for ladies.  He stood by me when I needed him."

"Did he?"

"Yes, don't ever doubt that.  When are we to present ourselves at this
affair?"

"Saturday at eight o'clock."

Sera dressed with particular care in a new gown of light gray silk,
which gave not the faintest hint of sobriety.  It seemed to shimmer,
almost like silver, and went well with her creamy skin.  She wore her
pearls, an exquisite set her father had given her.  She refused to
deprive Lady Amanda of the family jewels, such as they were, saying she
had plenty of her own to wear.

When she went to Lady Amanda's room, her mother-in-law gave a start.
"Sera!  That isn't a gown, surely!  I mean, you are not going out like
that?  That's enough, Constance, you may go," she said to her maid.

"Not much of a gown, I admit, and yes, I am going out in it."

"If you were my daughter, I would not permit you to appear in public
like that.  I have never spoken harshly to you, and I do not mean to
interfere, but that dress!"

"Do you think it will get Tony's attention?"

"I think it will get everyone's attention, most of it unwelcome.  Tony
will be exceedingly angry."

"I certainly hope so.  I hate to think I am freezing myself to no
account."

"But you are revealing things only a husband should see.  '

"Then Tony will be seeing more of me than he ever has."

"Oh, still no luck there?"

"If I had any, I would be sure to confide in you, and I suspect luck is
not what I need," she said critically as she looked down at her trim
figure.

"Well, if you can make him jealous, that may bring him to your side, at
any rate.  I just wish he were not so much like his father."

"What are you saying, that Lord Edwin--?"

"Strayed?  Yes, and more than once.  Each time I would set up a
flirtation of my own to bring him back to me.  He came back in a rage,
but he did come back."

"By all that's wonderful!  What a resourceful woman you are!"  Sera
came and hugged her mother-in-law.  "Here I was thinking I had invented
a new scheme."

"It's not one I would recommend.  There are bound to be some nasty
scenes.  Also, I feel most dreadfully that Tony is playing out his
marriage the same way mine went.  It looks so awful, seeing it from the
outside.  Perhaps if I had been a better mother..."

"Don't say that!  You are the best of mothers.  Tony follows the morals
he sees about him, but they are not yours or mine.  If I am not enough
for him, then I will give him up, but not without a fight, and
certainly not to Madeleine.  I intend to behave outrageously tonight. 
I think you might be glad if you were staying home."

Tony was shouting to Sera from the bottom of the stairs.

"You see what I mean."  Lady Amanda shook her head.

"Just like his father."  She picked up her half cape and shook her head
once more at Sera's dress.

"Quick.  What happened then, after you fought?"  Sera asked.

"We begged each other's forgiveness, of course.  The guilt wasn't so
hard for him to bear, believing that we shared it."

"Was there no sacrifice you did not make for him?"  "But I needed him.
He was all I had."

"Thank you, Mother."  Sera threw her wrap about her, then went into the
hall to silence Tony, who was still shouting for her.  In the carriage,
she thought about Lady Amanda, a woman of rare commitment.  Her love
for her marriage and family, for the ideal of love itself, had long
outlived the love she had for the actual man she married.  Had Lord
Edwin ever been worthy of her?  Perhaps the trick was to keep a man
worthy.  Sera had never imagined marriage could be so very complicated.
What if her love for Tony ever died away from this singular passion to
a, smoldering state of merely being used to each other?  That seemed
more intolerable to her than separation.  She could not imagine ever
falling out of love with Tony, no matter what he did.

When they arrived at the Holcrofis' and Tony removed her wrap, Sera was
satisfied to hear a slight gasp escape him.  Tony was startled to
realize the sensuous figure that walked away from him and up to Lord
Holcroft was his wife's.  He was painfully aware Sera had a good
figure, but it had never seemed so alluring before.  Lord Holcroft
greeted her more warmly than Lady Holcroft.  Tony shot to her side when
he realized the man was looking down her dress.

"A word with you," he whispered in Sera's ear.

"Not now, Tony."

"Yes, now!  That dress is a disgrace!"

"Nonsense!  It is very much like all the other dresses in the room, and
not nearly so revealing as Madeleine's."

Tony looked around him, and was forced to admit within his own mind
that Sera was right.  Still, he could not condone what she was
wearing.

"I mean to send you straight home with Mother to change."

"And leave you alone at a party with Madeleine Vonne?  Not a chance."
"How long do you think you can use that old scandal as an excuse for
your escapades?"

"Until you stop seeing her, Tony.  It's really up to you."  She pulled
her elbow out of his grasp and walked, smiling, up to Graden, who
looked at her in wide-eyed amusement.

Graden had been tete-a-tete with Marissa.  He rose on seeing Sera,
excused himself, and made his way across the room to her.

Tony wiped the shock from his face and followed Sera.  She introduced
Graden to Tony as Encrier, and Tony said formally how much he admired
The Count.  Sera had expected more of a reaction from Tony, after the
to-do over the poems and the anger over the dress.  Looking from one to
the other of them, she began to see a slight flaw in her plan.

Until she met Tony, she had thought of all men more or less equally.
She was tall herself, so she looked most of them in the eye when she
talked to them, but she had to look up to Tony.  And Tony obviously
looked down on En-crier in more ways than one.  She could almost see
her husband's mind working, relegating Graden to the class of fribbles
and fops.  It was not so much that Tony underestimated Graden, but that
Sera had underestimated Tony.  She had not thought him capable of
sizing a man up so quickly and shrugging him off as harmless.

Still, she determined to spend the entire evening with her playwright,
if possible, to be scintillating and animated, as she seldom was with
Tony.  To start with, she completely ignored Tony as she let Graden
lead her over to Marissa, who greeted her warmly.

Tony caught sight of Travesian standing by himself and observing Sera
and Encrier.  "I might have known you would be here," Tony said
tiredly.  "At least Sera will have a good time, mixing with all the
theater and literary people."

"I saw you at the theater last week.  You seem to think more of
Encrier's work than his person."

"He looks scarcely more than a boy.  He's so young, it's difficult to
take him seriously."

"It's because he is so young that he is so impressive.  Think about
some of the lines he wrote.  He will only become better with age.
Encrier is a force to be reckoned with.  I could see Sera hanging on
every word, as though she were memorizing them."

"I'm sure she already knew the words.  I came across her rehearsing
that actor, Brel, at the house."

"I must have sent him over in desperation.  Sera used to coach the
actors when she was young and I would bring her to the theater."

"About you and Sera, what exactly is your relationship?"

"I would say it is unique, or was.  We don't see so much of her as we
used to."

"That's no answer.  Was she.  ever in love with you?"  Travesian took a
gulp of wine.  "Perhaps with my Petruchio, perhaps even with my
Macbeth, but not, I think, with Travesian himself.  She was in love
with ... love--romance, the spirit of it.  But that was when she was no
more than a child.  Excitement used to dance in her eyes at each new
performance.  You have taken her away from all that."

"She doesn't belong in the theater world.  I would resent any attempt
to draw her back into that life, when we have been at such great pains
to bring her into society."

"Tell me what is the difference, m'lord?  At least what you see on the
stage is good drama.  What you see around you is not real, either.
These people all play parts," Travesi-an said, with a flourish of his
hand, tempting Tony to guess at their schemes.  "Their lines are poorly
mouthed, ill attended-to, and immediately forgotten.  That is a
blessing, anyway.  This performance tonight has only the virtue of
danger, in that it is extemporaneous.  It is, unfortunately, merely bad
melodrama.  You have taken her into the real world, where there is less
truth, less nobility, less love."

"I don't need you to lecture me on taking care of Sera."  "You ask what
we were to each other.  I do love her, but not in the way you should.
Perhaps I am merely her mentor."

"And what have you taught her?"

"To hold out for the perfect ending, to not accept anything but the
most pure kind of love.  Do you mean to un-teach her this?"

"No!"  Tony said angrily.  "But I hope you have also taught her
patience.  I can give her all that in time ... but not yet."

"It would not hurt to let her know that."

"Sera knows I love her."

"No, she doesn't," Travesian corrected, earning a scowl from Tony.

"This place may be false, as you say.  And yet you do not disdain to be
here," Tony countered.

"Look around you.  This is where the money is."

"That, at least, is true," Tony said, as he took himself off to the
card room.

Travesian thought that Sera gave a dazzling performance.  Graden's was
no less convincing..  The young man never left Sera's side.  They'
seemed even to his jaundiced eye to be a young couple just on the verge
of falling in love, and more than one eyebrow was raised at their
laughter.  Just to satisfy his curiosity, Travesian passed once or
twice behind the sofa where they were holding court, while no one was
about.  Their conversation was wonderfully innocent, only about the
theater.

When Sera caught sight of him, she asked, "Has Tony not even popped his
head out of the card room?"

"Only once, to scowl at you."

"Oh, goodness, he will hear all the gossip for days."

"Do you think this is such a good idea?"  Graden asked.  "It doesn't
seem quite fair, somehow."

"Love is seldom fair," Travesian intoned.

"That is from Lady Mellefieur.  Really, Travesian, you can't fool me
with one of my own lines.  I do own to a few qualms about fooling Tony,
but my time is short."

"What do you mean?"  asked Travesian.  "What sort of time constraint
could you possibly be under?"

"I shouldn't have said that."

"Come, child.  You can confide in us," Travesian chided.  "You have
trusted us with your reputation."

"It's Lord Vonne.  He has promised to kill Tony if I don't keep him
away from Madeleine."

"Was he serious?"  Graden asked in surprise.

"He convinced me, and I think I am a good judge."

"Perhaps we could throw a scare into Vonne," Travesian mused.

"Impossible," Sera said.  "Vonne is best left to me."

Travesian looked from his intrepid young protegee to his tame actor and
shrugged.

"Is it almost time for supper?"  Graden asked.

"A few more minutes," Sera said.

"Good, for we have run out of script," Graden said, downing the last of
his wine.

"No matter," Sera said.  "We can discuss next season's play.  You have
started it, haven't you?"  she teased.  "For I see young Wentworth
coming, and he is sure to want to discuss it."

"I suppose I had better, by now," Graden said with a chuckle.  "What
have I called it?"

"Lady Tarmiter," Travesian answered.

"No, he's changed the title to Lord Tarmiter's Wife," said Sera, as
Wentworth came up to be introduced.

"Tarmiter?"  Travesian mused.  "That sounds suspiciously like
Parmiter."

"It is meant to," Graden said, catching Sera's eye.

"A satire, then."  Travesian rubbed his palms together.  "That always
draws a crowd."

"Really?"  asked Wentworth.

"The way you have the title," Sera said, speculatively, "not Lady
Tarmiter, but Lord Tarmiter's Wife... as though..."

"As though she is no lady," Graden supplied with a chuckle.

Wentworth's gentle laugh was drowned by Travesian's roar.  It was
difficult to tell from Tony's face as he walked toward her which of
them he disapproved of the most.  "I have come to take you in to
supper, unless you have other plans," he said tightly.

Sera was tempted to say she did, but wisely decided to push Tony no
further.

"Have you sat in the man's pocket all evening?"  Tony demanded as he
led her away.

"What are you talking about?  I can't help it if time slipped away so
quickly.  He is so very amusing and... well-read," Sera said
impishly.

"Not to mention being handsome and full of juice."

"Oh, do you really think so?"  Sera glanced back at Graden.

"It almost makes up for him being so short."

"Rude, you mean?"

"You know very well I was referring to his small stature."

"I do not find him so," Sera said wistfully.

Tony glanced at Graden, now laughing and chatting as he led Marissa to
a table.  It did Tony's temper no good to see Lady Amanda on
Travesian's arm.  Sera thought it was a masterstroke.

"You should have risen after a few minutes' conversation with the
fellow.  That would have been the polite thing to do.  People will
think it very odd of you to have dominated him half the evening."

"I don't care what people think.  It is most likely the only chance I
will ever get to talk to Encrier face-to-face," Sera said truthfully.
"I wasn't about to waste it."

"I'm surprised you haven't invited him to the house."

"You have made it quite plain my friends are not welcome there."

"You may invite whomever you want, so long as he doesn't reek of the
theater."

"You number one very good actor among your acquaintances although he
doesn't exactly make a living at it."  "Who?"

"You figure it out."

"We are going home directly after supper.  I think the wine has gone to
your head."

"I haven't had any."

"It's the only excuse I could think of for such wanton behavior."

"Wanton?"  Sera looked at Tony in such a challenging way, he said no
more.

Who was he to be lecturing this child on morals, when he had done so
many vain and stupid things himself?.  Even now he let her think there
was still something between him and Madeleine.  It kept Sera at bay,
gave him some time before she demanded the kind of attention that was a
wife's due.  In the meantime, he could only look on impotently as she
sought love elsewhere.  He was tempted to tell her why he could not yet
be her husband, but as always, there was his mother in the carriage
with them, talking inanities.

"I must say, Encrier was quite taken with you, Sera.  Such a polite
young man.  I can't help thinking I've seen him somewhere."

Sera tried to remember if Graden had been present when Lady Amanda
visited the theater.  She rather thought he had.  "He bears a striking
resemblance to Brel, don't you think?"  she suggested.

"Yes, that must be it."

"I suppose Stewart will take the brunt of it," Sera confided as Marie
helped her undress.  "Hide the gown.  I may need it again, and there's
no telling what Tony will do to it if he sees it lying about."

"Yes, madame."

"Don't be so subdued.  Tony can't possibly blame you.  He will only be
angry with me, and he will not hit me."

"You should not have to do such things to get his attention.  A husband
should be a husband."

"I know I have hurt your pride to be seen in such a dress, when you
have been at such pains to dress me for society.  But that doesn't
matter anymore.  Only Tony matters."

"But what will he think of you, to wear such a dress?"

"That I can be attractive to' other men, at least.  And perhaps he is a
little jealous.?

Marie was outraged that Tony should be jealous when Sera was the
offended party, and she ranted in French for some minutes, to Sera's
amusement.  When she caught her employer laughing at her, she smiled.
"Are you, sure he will not hurt you?"

"Absolutely."

They had parted in the upstairs hall, as always, but Tony dismissed his
valet as soon as he donned his dressing gown, and waited until he
should hear Marie leave.  When all was silent, he opened the door from
the sitting room without knocking.  Another woman might be found
brushing her magnificent hair, or fondling her jewels, or even gazing
at her face in the mirror.  Sera sat writing at her desk, her long
tresses hanging almost to the paper.  She looked up, and an involuntary
smile lit her face.

"Another letter?"  he asked tiredly.

"To Lord Morisee.  Do you want to read it?"

Tony flushed, remembering the poems.  "No, I am sure it is amusing."

"I wanted to tell him about the evening while it is fresh in my
mind."

After a slight struggle with himself, Tony said, "I'll go, then."

"No, silly, it's not important.  What did you want?"  "We married under
difficult circumstances.  It was a bad time for me.  I wasn't quite
myself.  Had I been a little more sane, I-- What is the matter."?"

"You wouldn't have married me," Sera concluded, as tears sprang to her
eyes.

Tony was stunned.  Sera cried so seldom.  "No, of course notre I mean,
yes, I would have."  On impulse, he swept her up in his arms and held
her.  "I didn't mean to hurt you, and I have never regretted marrying
you--not more than once or twice, anyway," he said ruefully, thinking
of the evening he had just spent.

"But you don't love me."

"Yes, I do.  It's only that I can't love you the way you want.  If you
knew how little you have got from this marriage, other than the
title,.."

"But I never wanted a title."

"You didn't?  But why did you agree to marry me, then?

"Ah, you don't remember, do you?  I told you, that time you were drunk
at Oak Park."

"As I recall, I was drunk the whole time I was at Oak Park."

"I married you because I liked you and I could tell you were real.
There was no pretense about you.  You didn't lie to me.  I thought in
time we would come to love each other."

"Have Others lied to you?"

"All of them.  They really only wanted..."  "Yes, I know, your money,"
Tony said bitterly.  "Not mine--Father's."

"If you knew what my father took him for, you would be shocked."

"But I knew.  Father always discussed such things with me."

Tony gaped at her, and thrust her from him.  She cursed herself for
saying such a stupid thing.

"Tony, it doesn't matter."

"It does to me.  You can't buy love.  You may have bought me, but you
don't own me.  Just remember that."  He slammed the door after
himself.

Too late, Sera saw her misstep.  Now Tony had gone away thinking she
had gotten nothing from the marriage, and it was not true.

This was very close to what Tony was thinking.  Now that he knew the
depth of Sera's unhappiness, he could no longer fool himself into
thinking he was doing the fight thing.  Yet he could not bear the
alternative, either.

They each spent a sleepless night.  Sera steeled herself to face Tony
at breakfast, or the back of The Times, at any rate, but Tony never
even came down to breakfast.  Another woman might not have considered
it much of a rejection, but Sera was bereft, for it meant that Tony did
not mean to ride with her, either.

Why couldn't she and Tony be poor, like Elizabeth and Jason, with
nothing to 'get in the way of their love?  Why couldn't they be having
a baby by now?

Reason could not speak with much weight against a hunger more elemental
to a woman than even the love of a man, Sera found herself wondering if
men were only the means to that end.

Instinctively she did what she usually did when she was confused and
beset.  She threw some dresses in a portmanteau and prepared to go
home, not to her father's London house, but to the farm where she had
spent the better part of her childhood.

"I would have done that for you," Marie offered.  "Where are we
going?"

"I'm going to the farm for a few days.  I'll take a hack to the Swan,
and hire a post chaise there.  I think you should stay here, in case
Armand needs you."

"But what shall I tell him?"  Marie asked, meaning Tony.

"I'll see Lady Amanda before I leave.  She can handle Tony.  Now send
Chadwick for a hack."

When Sera came into the morning room, drawing on her gloves, Lady
Amanda had only to look at the reddened eyes to see that this was to be
no ordinary shopping trip.

"I'm going to Father's farm for a few days.  I need a rest from
Tony."

"So do I," agreed Lady Amanda.

"Come with me, then," Sera teased, with a hint of her normal humor.

"That's a tempting offer, and I do want to see the place someday, but I
expect I had better be here to explain your absence to Tony.  What do
you mean to do?"

"Nothing for a few days, except walk about and sit under the apple
trees.  See, I am not even taking any books with me," Sera said,
showing her small valise.

She did not manage to make her escape scot-free.  Chadwick rode in the
hackney with her to the Swan to make the arrangements for the post
chaise.  Then be' crawled into the conveyance after helping her in,
saying that the post boys were insolent and he would not trust her
alone with them.  It was a comfortable ruse for both of them, and
Chadwick rode with her the whole way home, in a silence interrupted
only by an occasional sigh from Sera.

When Tony sat down to dinner that night with Lady Amanda and Win, he
merely asked, "Where is Sera?  She's never late."

"She's gone," Lady Amanda said, sadly but without hysteria.

"Gone where?"  Tony demanded.

Win was looking uncomfortable, and he glanced at Lady Amanda.

"Gone away," Lady Amanda said unhelpfully.

"You mean, she's left me?"  Tony asked in shock as he rose from his
chair.

"I don't want to worry you," Win said, "but I saw her getting into a
post chaise with a man in riding dress around noon.  I would have
stopped her, but they were gone before I could even think what to
do."

"I can't believe she left me without a word," Tony said, falling back
in his chair.

Lady Amanda had listened thoughtfully to Win and then Tony.  "I don't
believe she means to do anything for a few days," she said
truthfully.

"You let her go.  Are you mad?"  Tony asked his mother.  "Anything
could happen to her."

"I was not about to stop her.  If not for having you and Charlie, I
would have left your father a dozen times over.

What were you shouting about last night?"

"I was not shouting!"  Tony shouted.

"If I could hear you through two oak panels, you were shouting."

"She didn't seem that upset.  Win, was her maid with her?"

"I didn't see."

"She left Marie behind, and don't interrogate the girl," Lady Amanda
said, to forestall Tony bolting up the stairs.

"I must do something.  Which coaching house were they leaving from?"

"I don't know.  There must be a dozen in Oxford Street."  "Who was the
man?"

"I didn't know the fellow, Tony.  That's what made it seem so odd."

"What did he look like?"

"Older, graying.  Tall, thin, a good leg?"

"Not Travesian, then.  Did he have a goatee?"

"Now, I would have mentioned that.  It was not Vonne, if that's what
you am thinking.  He did have a familiar look to him, though."

"Think, Win.  Where have you seen the fellow?"  "Perhaps he's one of
Sera's actors."

"They are none of them very tall, but it will be easy to find out if
any of them are missing."  Tony threw down his napkin and took himself
off to the Agora.

"Win," Lady Amanda said, to draw her nephew's attention away from the
soup, "if word of this ever gets out, I will know where it came from,
and I may let slip to your mother something of that affair in Bath that
Tony sprang you from."

"You wouldn't!"

"In a minute, so keep your mouth shut about this, or I will make you
sorry," she said, giving him a vicious kick under the table.

"Yes, Aunt Amanda," Win agreed, rubbing his shin.

It was unfortunate that Albert Brel, who had given over a performance
to Graden that evening and was now prompting from the wings, was the
first person Tony's suspicious glare lighted on.

"Here, you--Brel, isn't it?  Have you seen Lady Cairnbrooke?"

"Quiet!  There's a performance going on!"  Brel whispered
desperately.

"I don't care what's going forward," Tony said menacingly, collaring
Brel and dragging him away from the curtain.  "I want to know where
Sera is."

"But I haven't seen her," Brel whispered, glancing desperately at the
stage..

"I don't believe you: You're hiding something.  You've spirited her
away."  Tony by now had Brel backed against the brick wall, with his
forearm across his throat, but the young man desperately clung to his
script instead of trying to defend himself.

"Answer me!"  Tony threatened.

"Perhaps he could answer you better if you were not cutting off his
wind," Travesian suggested coolly.

Tony let go of Brel to round on Travesian.  Brel slumped against the
wall and Coughed.

"Have you seen Sera?"  Tony demanded of Travesian, but did not go so
far as to lay hands on him.

"Not likely, when you have forbidden her to come here again."

"Are any of your actors missing?"

"They are all here.  Do you mean to tell me you have no idea where Sera
is?"

"She's left me," Tony said, making no effort to hide his anguish from
Travesian.

"Left you?  That's impossible.  She loves you.  What did she say?"

Tony stared at Travesian.  "She loves me?"

"What a fool you are not to have realized that!  Did you argue?"

"No-- Yes, last night, but she left today without a word."

"That doesn't sound like Sera, but then, she has not been herself
lately."

"Oh, my God!"

"What?"

"Encrier.  It must be.  Don't you remember how taken she was with
him?"

Travesian chuckled.  "Believe me, you have nothing to fear from that
quarter."

"How can you be so sure?  He is everything I am not."  "Yes, but he is
not a great many things that you are, believe me," Travesian said,
thumping him on the back.  "If you want to know what I think, she has
only taken a bolt into the country."

"Oak Park?"

"Where?  No.  Gott Farm, her father's place.  Here, I'll write out the
directions for you.  Get some sleep, and go there in the morning.  It's
not more than four hours, but you would never find it at night."

"You think her father might be there?"

"I'm pretty sure he is not, but that is not why Sera goes there."

"Why, then?"

"Go and you will find out."

For Tony, it was the second sleepless night.  He did go to bed, but
sprang up so often at the sound of a carriage in the street that he
might as well have stayed up by the window.  It filled Tony with a vast
emptiness to think of Sera leaving him.  Worse still to think of her in
someone else's arms.  It was all his fault, of course.  He wished he
had left for Gott Farm immediately, even if he could not, as Travesi-an
had warned, hope to find it in the dark.  He would be that much closer
by now to knowing if she was there.  And if she was not?  That did not
bear thinking of.  He had no idea after that where she might have gone.
If only he had paid more attention to her, not shouted at her in that
way his father had.  Why would he unconsciously copy the habits of a
man he had held in such disgust?

It was a shock when he finally admitted it.  He had never liked his
father, had attempted in every way he could devise not to be like him.
But when presented with unfamiliar situations, all the trials of
marriage, he had reacted exactly like his father.  If only he could
find Sera, he would make a new start.  He would be careful not to be
such a brute even by accident.

Dawn came as a relief.  As soon as he could get himself dressed and
shaved, he went to the stables to order his curricle.  Jeffers helped a
still-sleepy Dillon hitch the team.  Tony was so distracted, he did not
even notice that Chadwick was absent.

As he drove out of town, it did occur to Tony that he should inform
Sera's father, but it was difficult to tell a man you had made his
daughter so miserable she had fled your house.  If he did not find her
today, he would have to face such an interview.  After a tense journey
that he accomplished in something' under three and a half hours, Tony
pulled into the yard between the house and the carriage house at the
farm he had come to by following Travesian's map.  Chadwick came out to
take the team.  "Where is she?"  Tony asked eagerly.  "Probably petting
Casius and Ivy."

Tony walked toward the pasture Chadwick indicated, and did indeed see a
girl feeding two horses from her basket.  As he approached, he heard
her talking to them, very much as Sera talked to Tansy on their
rides.

"What are you after, sir?"  Sera was playfully admonishing Casius. "You
have eaten all the apples.  Roses?  Horses don't eat roses."

Casius gave this the lie by munching down the petals of a fragrant
bunch.  Ivy stole a stem for herself.  Something about seeing the pink
blossoms disappear into the horses' muzzles made Tony laugh.

"Tony, how did you get here?  You don't think it will make them sick,
do you?"

"I doubt it.  They seem to know about these things."  Tony stroked
Ivy's muzzle and scratched Casius behind the ears.

"They are keeping rather well for old screws, don't you think?"

"Will you ever forgive, me for that?"

"You were right, in a way.  They deserve their retirement.  You should
have seen the despairing look Ivy gave me when she thought I meant to
ride her."

"I want you to come home with me," Tony said, suddenly and quite
seriously.

"Is something wrong?"

"Is something wrong?  How do you think I felt, not knowing where you
had gone, or even if you meant to come back?"

"But surely Lady Amanda knew I meant to return."

"No, nor where you went.  And then there was Win, saying you had left
town with an older man."

"Older man?  Oh---Chadwick.  Leave it to Win not to even recognize my
groom.  But--" Sera stopped herself from asking why Lady Amanda would
deceive her own son in this way.  To test him, perhaps?  "But how did
you find me, then?"  she asked instead.

"Travesian told me to come here.  Much as he dislikes me, even he could
see how desperate I was."

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to cause trouble.  Gott Farm is the only
place I ever go.  I just assumed everyone would know that.  And I did
mean to come back."

"Tell me, next time," Tony said urgently.  "Will you come with me?" 
"If I can."

Another half promise, Sera thought.  Better than nothing.

"Travesian has been here, then?"  Tony asked casually as they walked
toward the gate.

"Yes, but I think he only came to please me.  He was so out of his
element it was laughable."  "You haven't answered me."  "About what?"

"Will you come home with me?"

"Have we got to go now?"

"I would like to.  Mother must be worried."

"Oh, she will assume you have found me when you don't come back."

"It's all very well to be going off by yourself when you are single,
but it's not the thing when you are married."

"You mean you don't want me to come here again?"  she asked in
despair.

"You have Oak Park."

"That is very nearly as oppressive as London.  Your father is there."

"What?"

"Sorry, Tony, but he fairly haunts the place!  Oh, not in person, but
there are so many reminders of him about, it puts you in a low mood.
How can I be happy when you are not?  Besides, it is not my home, as
this is.  Don't you at least want to see the farm?"

"You will come home with me, then?"

"Yes, but your horses must be tired, and depend on it, Mrs.  Simpson
will already have started cooking.  And you look as though you have not
eaten or Slept in days."

Sera took him on a tour of the orchards and succession houses, feeding
him on berries, apples, and whatever other treasures she could find for
him.

"I have tasted these apples before."

"Yes, Father sent some to town last week."

"So that is how Mrs.  Teale and Rayburn manage on such a small
allowance.  Your father has been feeding us."

"He is quite thrilled to have someone enjoy his crops, as he calls
them."

"I will remember to thank him."

"Chadwick is waving.  It must be time for lunch."

"I'm full already.  Is this how you lived as a child, eating your way
around the farm?"

"Very much so.  It was like a treasure' hunt to see what all I could
find to eat.  Everything tastes so much better when it is warm-ripened
by the sun.  It's a wonder I did not get quite plump."

Tony laughed at her, but could not imagine her other than what she
was.

They dined alone, without even The Times for company.  "It's not like
you to run away," Tony said finally.

"I wouldn't have thought it was like you to come after me, or even
notice I was gone.  But then, I discover that I don't really know
you."

"You can come back here, but you can't really go back to being a child
again."

"Well, I can't go on as I am, married but not really married."

"I thought you didn't mind so much--that I would have time..."

"It's been a year since Charlie died, and your father has been gone
eight months.  You must get over it sometime."  "That's not--" "What is
it, then?"  "I can't tell you."

"I'm used to being alone, Tony.  I'm not used to being ignored.  I
can't help it I'm not Madeleine."

"But I' don't want you to be," Tony blurted out.  "What do you want me
to be?"  "Nothing."

"Nothing... What do you mean, just not there?"

"I mean I don't want anything from you."

Sera looked into her teacup, feeling more alone than ever, their
previous intimacy shattered by this rejection.

Tony had only meant that he didn't want her to be any different and he
truly thought that was what he had said.  "I'm going home now.  I want
you to come with me."

"And if I choose not to return yet?  What will you do?"  "Nothing, I
suppose," Tony said, not being able to picture himself forcibly
removing Sera from the farm, "but I want us to go back together."

"To save your face, or mine?"

"Do you imagine anyone who has created as many scandals as I have cares
anything about pride or appearances?  That's not why I want you to
come."

"Why, then?  You don't want me.  That's obvious."  "But I do, more than
anything.  It's just ... too soon."  Sera was disappointed, but said
nothing.

"I'll go see to the horses," Tony said as he rose.  He spent a deal of
time over this, to give Sera a chance to consider.  It was with a
sinking fe eli that he had Chadwick lead the team around to the front
of the house.  He went in the back door, trying to think of any
argument to dislodge Sera, but she was tying on her bonnet, and her
valise stood at the foot of the stairs.  He breathed a sigh of relief
as he helped her into the curricle and took the ribbons.  Then he spent
the first hour of the drive wondering if he had encouraged Sera to
expect too much of him.

Sera watched Tony's hands, driving smoothly, responding to the tug of
the horses' heads.  How could he be so alive to what these two animals
were doing and know nothing of the numbness inside her?  She glanced
back and saw Chadwick perched behind, pretending to be deaf.

"What would you being doing today, if you hadn't come after me?"  she
asked Tony.

"I don't know.  Playing cards."  It sounded foolish even to him.

"You must like to play cards."

"No."

It was not the answer she'd expected, and it proved up the danger of
trying to make conversation with Tony when he was concentrating.  He
didn't even like to play cards, but he would rather be doing that than
be with her.  Yet there had been moments--at the theater--when he
seemed to enjoy her company.

"What would you be doing?"  he asked, long after she thought the
conversation ended.

"Shopping."

"Do you like to shop?"

"No, I hate it!"  she said passionately, tears welling up in her
eyes.

"Then why are we having such a bad time together?"  Tony asked, with a
feeble laugh.

"I don't know.  I don't know what I expected it would be like to be
married, but I didn't think it would be this difficult.  It all seems
so trivial and useless.  It's not even as real as my--" Sera faltered,
thinking of her plays.  "Your what?"

"My books that I read."

"We'll have a real life someday.  You have to trust me.  A year--I need
another year."

"You ask me to trust you, but you have never trusted me.  It isn't
fair."

"It's the best I can manage for now."

"Why can't you tell me what the trouble is?  Maybe I could help."

"I don't want you mixed up in it.  It's better if you don't know."  He
glanced at her, and was surprised to see that she was blinking back
tears as she stared at' the backs of the team.

"What have I said?  I only want to protect you."  "I'm not a child.  I
don't want to be protected."  "It's all I can do for now."

"Can't you at least promise to tell me someday, when it is all over?"
Sera asked hopefully.

"It has nothing to do with Madeleine, I can assure you of that."

"How can we ever be truly husband and wife if we have secrets from each
other?"

"Have you always been completely open with me?"  "No," Sera said sadly.
"But I have a feeling that even if I told you everything about myself,
you would still not confess what sort of trouble you are in."

"I'm not in trouble.  In fact, I am in a fair way to solving all my
problems, if you would but have a little patience with me."

"A year?  Tony, we haven't got a year," Sera said desperately.

"What are you talking about?  We have all the time in the world."

"Vonne gave me a month to turn your interest away from Madeleine, and I
haven't been able to do it."  The tears escaped her eyes, and she
dashed a gloved hand across them.

"Is that all?  I'm not afraid of Vonne."

"Well, I am.  He says he will kill you next time, and he means it.  And
you did promise not to let that happen."

"That is one promise I assure you I intend to keep.  I have no interest
in Madeleine."

"But someday--can you tell me someday?"

Tony considered for a full minute if he would be able to admit to Sera
his predicament, once he had paid her back.  He imagined how she would
laugh over such a thing, and found himself looking forward to the
moment.  "Yes, I will tell you someday."

"Then I will trust you."

"Why?"  he surprised himself by asking.

"Because you asked it of me, and there is so little else I can do for
you."

Lady Amanda smiled from the drawing room window as they pulled up in
Marsham Street.  She escaped to her room as Chadwick walked the team
around back and Sera entered the house, laughing at something Tony had
said.

Chapter Eleven

Ey, there.  "Oo are you?  This 'ere's my corner," a tough young voice
complained as Sera, in her urchin's clothes, stationed herself across
from Tony's club.  It had been more difficult than she had thought to
keep him in sight without being discovered herself, She was only glad
Tony had trotted up the steps and been admitted before the lad raised
his complaint.

"Beg pardon?"  she said gruffly.  "Your corner?"

"That's right, in case any of the gentlemen needs a message sent, or a
hack or chair - That's my job."

"But I'm only waiting for Lord Cairnbrooke."

""Is servant, then?  They would let you wait in the 'all or kitchen."

"His wife's servant, actually, He doesn't know I am following him.  She
worries about him walking these streets alone at night."

"I see.  She wants to know if 'e's really playing at cards." 
"Exactly," Sera said with a knowing chuckle.

"Well, you've got a long wait.  "E won't be Out afore one or two
o'clock.  Always flips me 'all a crown if I'm about, for luck, 'e says.
Very gentlemanly of 'im, when I've done naught for 'im."

Sera smiled to think Tony's kindness extended to such a casual
acquaintance.  "And is he lucky?"

"Most nights.  I 'ear 'e wins regular, but 'e don't play at dice, or
odds and evens, not even faro much--fool's games, them.  It's mostly
whist or piquet with him, where a man's skill means something'."

"I think it is dangerous for him to be walking about Saint James's, if
he's carrying a roll and everyone knows it."

"I ain't everyone, and 'e's no fool.  "E has 'era lock 'is winnings up
at the club-- "Ere, are you sure you're in 'is employ?"

"Do I look like I could rob anyone?"

"No, nor protect 'im, neither, in an out-and-out."

"Lady Cairnbrooke mostly wanted to know where he went.  She only
vaguely suspected he was in danger."

"What sort of woman is she that 'e leaves her night after night?"

"A very lonely sort of woman."

""Ere, you can sit and sleep in this 'ere doorway until 'e comes out.
I'll wake you."

Sera sat on the step, drawing back out of the light to rest against the
doorframe.  She would not have thought she could fall asleep in such a
place, but being married to Tony was much more tiring than she had ever
anticipated, and having come this far, she refused to go back home,
even though it sounded to her as though Tony did nothing but play cards
all night.  Still, she supposed he might go to see Madeleine on the way
home.  She had no idea how difficult such an assignation would be to
arrange, with Vonne on the alert.  Once planted in her mind by Win, the
idea of Tony making love to Madeleine Vonne made her heartsick.

"Cairnbrooke, I am surprised you are not home with your lovely wife ...
or my lovely wife," Vonne taunted as he seated himself at Tony's
table.

Tony raised an eyebrow at him.  "Perhaps I find gambling more amusing
than either of them."

"We need a third and a fourth, or we shall be at each other's throat
inside of five minutes."

Tony looked around wearily and caught sight of Clive and Jason, just
entering.

"Jason, Clive, would you like to take a hand, or just drink with us?"
Tony asked.  After Tony made introductions and ordered wine, Clive
acknowledged Lord Vonne.  "Yes.  I remember you from Marissa's ball
last year."

"Tony, I haven't seen much of you lately," Jason said, "though I've met
your wife several times.  Your era is a very steadying influence."

"I have found her so," Vonne said, causing Tony to stare at him.

Jason looked from Tony to Vonne in a puzzled way.  "If the question
that is rising to your mind is, did I not just put a bullet into this
fellow last year, the answer is yes."

"That must have.  been some misunderstanding," Clive said, as he shook
his head.

"Which shoulder?"  Jason asked.  "Sorry, none of my business, but I am
studying to be a surgeon."

"My right, and I wish you had been around then.  It was more expertly
put in than taken out.  I feel it still."

"Perhaps it will be handy to number a surgeon among your close
acquaintance," Vonne gibed.

"I am glad I helped you search for Charlie last year, though it would
have meant everything if we had found him.  But if not for all those
trips to the hospitals, I might not have settled on medicine as a
career."

"I thought your brother died in Belgium," Vonne said.

"We assume so.  It was very hard to give Up looking for him and admit
he was dead," Tony answered.

"So that's why you suddenly seemed so negligent with your life," Vonne
concluded.  "If I'd known--"

"It's done," Tony said.

"You were both in the fighting, then?"  Vonne asked of Jason and
Clive.

"It's where I lost my eye, and my taste for killing."  "Oh, God, is
this what we have come to?"  Clive asked.

"Siuing about comparing war wounds?  If anybody asks about my leg, I
shall sink into the dismals.  Why does fate seem to strike at a man
where he lives?"  Clive downed a glass of wine, not expecting an
answer.

"Not just in war," Vonne said.  "I have a wife so beautiful she gets me
into duels several times a year."

"See, Jason, what you may have to look forward to, now that you an:
married to my beautiful sister Elizabeth?"  Clive asked.

"Beauty does not go hand in hand with ... flirtatious-ness," Jason
answered.

"Delicately put, even for a surgeon," Vonne said.

"I'm ill equipped to fight a duel, as Elizabeth has so forcibly pointed
out to me."

Clive chuckled and told Tony to deal the cards.

"There was a time when I would have given anything to be in.  the army,
where the action was," Tony remembered.

"And now?"  Clive asked.

"The action is somewhere else."  "Where?  Here?"  Jason wondered.  "No,
on the exchange."

Tony won the first hand and passed the cards over to Jason to deal. "So
glad I plan to work for a living.  William makes me nervous when he
starts talking about that sort of thing."  :

"Is that why you seem so jumpy?"  Tony asked.

When Jason fanned the cards, they sprang all over the table and floor,
and Clive laughed out loud.

"On second thought," Vonne said, stooping to recover some of them,
"perhaps I won't call you next time I am shot."

"Elizabeth is about to give birth to our first child, and my
sister-in-law has driven me from the house," Jason complained, his hand
shaking a little as he accepted a glass of wine from Tony.

"It's your own fault," Olive protested.  "Even sweet Elizabeth
threatened to move to a hotel if you counted her pulse one more
time."

"But I should be there," Jason said.  "You deal, Clive.  I can't think
straight."

"They will send the carriage if she needs you.  Now enjoy yourself."
Clive dealt the cards, and Jason attempted to concentrate.

"You must think I am a poor-spirited fellow, coming apart like this,"
Jason said to Tony.

"I have no idea what it is like waiting for your first child," Tony
replied.  "I should have thought it would be a happy event."

"Elizabeth said it best.  "It is the single greatest risk a woman
faces.  And men never even think of it."  I could lose them both."
Jason drew an impatient hand across his brow.

"I remember when Madeleine gave birth to our son.  I had not thought
she was strong.  I expected her to scream, but she didn't.  Sixteen
hours."

"Sixteen hours!"  Jason groaned.

"Elizabeth is right," Tony said.  "It is the biggest gamble a woman
takes, and if Sera died in childbirth I would blame myself.  Compared
to that risk, all the other gambles we take are trivial."

"What are we playing, again?"  Jason asked vaguely.  "I think your
heart is not in this," Tony said with a laugh.  "I would feel guilty
winning anything from you, as distracted as you are."

"Too bad your scruples don't extend to the rest of us,"

Vonne said, picking up the cards to deal.

"You can afford to lose."

"So long as it is only money."

"Money doesn't matter," Jason said.  "Neither Elizabeth nor I have any
to speak of, and we are perfectly happy.  At least we will be when this
baby gets here."

"But what if Elizabeth had money and you had none?"  Tony asked.

"Women don't care about such things," Jason said with a tired smile.
"They are as happy with a bouquet of flowers you have gathered in the
park on the way home from hospital as with a diamond necklace."

Vonne gave a bark of laughter.  "Perhaps your Elizabeth is."

"I wonder if you may be right," Tony said.

William Falcrest entered the club with powerful strides, and Jason
jumped up when he saw him, overturning two glasses.  "William!"

"Elizabeth is in labor.  Marissa says there's no hurry.  You can finish
your game."

"Are you mad?  What game?  I must go to her."

"I had better go, too," Clive agreed as he stood up to follow Jason. "I
assure you he is a perfectly competent fellow most of the time.".

"I can remember feeling that way about Madeleine.  If only all women
were more like this Elizabeth."

"Perhaps they are, and we simply don't realize it," Tony said.

"I can just see Madeleine's face if I walked in with a handful of
flowers."

"And I can see Sera's.  Jason is right.  Money would not matter to
Sera, seeing that she has always had enough of it.  I'm the one it
matters to."

"Well, if it matters that much, deal the cards."

""Ere 'e comes now," whispered Sera's new mentor as he cuffed her
awake.

"Good morning, Peter," said Tony as he crossed the street.

"Morning, sir.  Was the luck with you tonight?"

"Yes, it was," said Lord Cairnbrooke, flipping him a coin.  "Who's your
friend?"

""E's got to wait for someone."

"Well, see he gets his dinner," Tony said as he gave Peter another
coin, then turned and walked down the street with a sigh.

""Ere, this is for you," Peter said fairly.

"Keep it.  Thanks for not giving me away."

"Wait.  Take this stick.  If 'e does get robbed, you'll be some use to
'im."

Sera followed Tony, trying to look nonchalant, which was not easy,
carrying the club Peter had put into her hands.  She was determined to
lay it in the gutter, for fear of being taken up on suspicion herself
should she encounter any watchmen.

Tony circled Saint James's Place on the east, past the Horse Guards,
and was within half a mile of home when he became conscious of
uncertain footsteps behind him.  He was wasting so much effort
calculating how far away his clumsy pursuer was that he never saw the
large body that plunged at him from between two houses.

"Tony, look out!"  Sera shouted, surprising herself with her theater
voice as much as Tony, but it did give him some warning.  Still, the
large thug carried him to the ground with a crash, and delivered a blow
to Tony's shoulder that made him cry out before Sera yelled for the
watch as loud as she could.  She made a deal of noise running toward
them, enough to make the footpad look up, just as she swung the stick
at his head.  He gave a bawl of pain, and did roll off Tony, but
grabbed the club as she swung it again, and broke it suggestively over
his knee.  But it was enough.  Tony staggered to his feet and caught
the man a blow to the ribs that knocked the wind out of him.  Sera
kicked the fellow in the knee, making him dance.

"What the devil are you doing here?"  Tony demanded, but did not wait
for an answer.  He grabbed her sleeve and dragged her in a headlong
sprint through the maze of streets.  At the back end of Marsham Street
they stopped for a breather.  Tony rubbed his old wound and listened,
as Sera bent over, panting.

"He's still coming," Tony warned.

"The back door is open," Sera said, and took Tony's hand to pull him
down the alley that ran behind their property.  She was excited by
their desperate flight together, no matter what the consequences for
her.  She had at least been of some use to Tony.

By the unerring way she picked a path through the garden to the door,
which sprang open at her imperious knock, Tony judged she had done this
before, and was on the point of demanding under what circumstances. But
Marie's hysterical flood of French prevented any such questions.

"You're right," Sera agreed.  "He is bleeding, but from where?"  She
pushed Tony into a chair in the kitchen and, as an afterthought,
securely bolted the door.  "Where are you hurt, Tony?"

"It's just a bump on the head," he complained, feeling rather silly at
being fussed over as they got a basin to bathe the gash at the back of
his neck.  He had thought it was only sweat running down his collar
until he brought his hand away with a smear of blood.

"Yes, I think the doctor," Sera replied to a question from her maid.

"I don't need a doctor," said Tony petulantly.  "It's only my head."

"In that case, we have nothing to worry about, but he hit you in the
shoulder, too, almost as though he knew that would hurt you the
most."

Tony rubbed the still-tender wound, reluctant to agree the attack was
not random.  "He may have been aiming for my aw?"

"It's not just where he hit you, but where he waited--not in Saint
James's, but closer to home."

"You never answered my question," Tony complained, going on the attack
himself.  "What were you doing out at night?"

"Following you, of course."

"Following me?  Why?"

"I imagine you know why.  Hold still," she said as she dabbed an
anodyne on the cut.

Tony winced and took the glass of brandy that Marie thoughtfully put
into his hand.  He drained it and rose a little shakily.  Sera
instinctively went to steady him.

"I can manage.  It's just my shoulder.  You wouldn't think a wound that
old could still bother you."

"Oh, if only you had apologized to Vonne and not taken that bullet,"
Sera said passionately.

"I did try, once I sobered up," Tony said, his speech beginning to slur
now from the drink.  "It was the honorable thing to do, but Vonne would
have none of it.  I can't say I blame him.  Nothing but blood would
satisfy him."

Sera nodded slowly as she took Tony's arm and guided him to the stairs.
She could imagine Vonne angry enough to refuse an apology.  Yet he had
been calm enough to wound Tony most expertly, not kill him.  Something
did not seem quite right to her.

"Wait," Tony said, swaying against the banister.

"Is it very bad?"

"Not so bad--no worse than coming off a horse.  You know that half-sick
feeling you get from hitting the ground too hard?"

"No," Sera said, gazing at Tony with concern.

"You have never fallen?"

"Not since I was a child at the farm.  A lady cannot afford to.  Think
how everyone would stare."

"So you just don't?"

"That's right.  Now come upstairs."

"Wait.  I just remembered how you are dressed.  You two get up to your
room.  Marie can send Stewart to me, if he is waiting up as I suspect
he is.  We'll talk about this tomorrow."

Sera went reluctantly to her room as Marie went to fetch Stewart.  Tony
sat on the steps to wait for his valet.

Sera could hear Stewart undressing Tony on the other side of the small
sitting room that separated their bedrooms.  She dismissed Marie
impatiently as soon as she had donned her nightclothes.  It was some
time after that before Stewart left Tony's room.

Once again Tony had surprised her.  She had expected him to be shocked
and tremendously angry at seeing her in disguise.  Instead, they had
been like two comrades in arms, or more like two lads in trouble,
trying to help each other.  She had never felt closer to Tony, and she
wanted that feeling to last.  She wanted there to be no more distrust
between them.

Entering Tony's room, she could tell by the sound of his breathing that
he was fast asleep.  She sat on the bed with him for a while,
contemplating their strange marriage and watching him.  He was
handsome, even with his hair straying across his forehead and his
cheeks flushed.  She felt his face, which was warm, and he shivered a
little.  She slid under the covers and laid her length beside him.  His
restlessness went away, and Sera lay fantasizing about what their life
could be like if only Tony could learn to love her.

When Tony awoke, it was with a vague awareness that he was not alone,
and he knew a moment of panic that he was in bed with Madeleine.  His
heart thudded against his ribs as he wondered how he could have been so
stupid---but the scent was wrong.  The long, ropy hair that entangled
his hand was not Madeleine's frantic ringlets.

"Sera," he said in soft surprise.

"I didn't want to leave you.  You had the most awful chills in the
night," Sera rose on her elbow, half expecting rejection.

"I feel warm now.  No, stay a moment.  I think if I were in better
frame I would be demanding an explanation from you."

She relaxed on the pillow beside him.  "You mean why I was out
alone?"

"For a-start.  Moreover, if I remember right, you were wearing
breeches, and Marie was conveniently posted in the kitchen to let you
back in.  Are you having an affair?"

"Me?  Course not."  She laughed, as though it were an impossibility. "I
told you I was following you."

"To see where I went at night.  You could have asked me."

"No, I couldn't.  I had to know if Win was right, if you were still in
love with Madeleine."

"You don't trust me, after all.  I can't say that I blame you."

"No, I don't trust Madeleine.  Now I know I can't trust Win,
either--not his judgment, anyway, for he was wrong.  You only go to
your boring clubs."

"Why would Win fill your head with such nonsense about Madeleine?"

"I don't know.  He's your cousin."

"But Win knows very well where I go at night."

"Then why would he play such a trick on me?"  Sera sounded like a
resentful child,

"I don't know," Tony said, burying his fingers in her hair again, "but
I'll find out.  Still, you should not have done it.  Those streets are
dangerous at night."  "For you, as well."  "So I have discovered."

"I can't help thinking he was no ordinary footpad," said Sera, resting
her head against Tony's good shoulder.

"Why?"  he mused, not wanting to know, but not really wanting Sera to
leave, either.

"Too well dressed--and why didn't he use that club on me, rather than
breaking it in a fit of anger?  I think he was after you
specifically."

"If you are thinking Vonne would go to such lengths,

don't.  For I assure you I was with him tonight, and I--" "Certainly
not.  I know him that well."  "Just how well is that?"

"Well enough to wish he were our friend, not our enemy."

"I'm sure he does not consider himself your enemy, not the way he looks
at you."

"I am a puzzle to him, that is all."

"That's no surprise.  You are a puzzle to me, and I should know you by
now," he said, pleased to have led her off the track of speculation
about his attacker.

Sera was silent, and she heaved a sigh that Tony felt more than heard
as she lay against him.  He caught a stab of guilt at not knowing his
own wife by now.  He was no more than a wish away from knowing her very
well as he wound his fingers through her hair and toyed with the notion
of asking her to help him off with his nightclothes.  What did that
promise he had made himself mean, with her warm against his chest?  If
he had been feeling slightly better, his desire for her would have been
overpowering.  As it was, both his head and his shoulder were thumping.
Besides, he wanted it to be perfect for her.  He only hoped she could
wait.

"You'd better go," he said suddenly.  He thought she almost sobbed.
"For I can't sleep again with you so temptingly close, and I do need
to."

Sera sat up and looked at him in a puzzled way, but slid out of bed and
turned to tuck the covers around him.  He reached for her on impulse
and stopped her hand in its work.  "Promise me you won't do it again,
go out at night alone?"

"Would you make me the same promise?"  "I can't.  I must--" "What?"

"I can't tell you yet."

"It strikes me we each do things the other would not approve of."

"I should like to know what they all are," Tony said sleepily.

"Yes, but not now.  It would only make your head ache worse."

Tony laughed weakly.  "Someday you'll tell me?"

"Yes, and I promise not to haunt the streets anymore, but I wish you
would take Jeffers or Chadwick with you."

"Tn think about it."

"Success?"  Marie questioned excitedly as Sera came back into her
room.

Sera was so bemused, she did not bother to wonder what had brought
Marie to her room again.  "Not exactly."

"Quoi?  One has either been made love to or not.  It is not a thing one
can be uncertain about."

"No, then he hasn't, but he wanted to.  I could sense that," Sera said,
crawling into bed and letting Marie tuck her in.

"What is the matter with him?"

"He has been injured.  Perhaps he is not feeling well enough."

"He wasn't hurt that badly."

"I think he is waiting for something."

"What could he be waiting for?"

"I suspect he is trying to pay off all his debts first."  "But what has
that to do with you?"

"I don't know," Sera said hopelessly, "nor do I know how long it will
take.  I only hope I am not too old by the time he is ready."

"No Frenchman would wait almost a year to make love to his bride."

"Not many Englishmen would, either, but Tony is different.  That's why
I love him."

Before he fell asleep again, Tony lay musing about his odd little wife.
Not only had she contrived to follow him--suddenly he remembered
Peter's companion and chuckled to himself--but in a real emergency she
had taken effective action, rather than becoming hysterical.  If she
had not been able to flee with him, they might both be dead by now.

But he rather thought tonight had been a less than subtle warning to
stop poking into Rothschild's affairs.  Whether it had been instigated
by the banker himself or by one of his minions, Tony could not say.  He
must keep Sera clear of all such knowledge.  There was no telling what
she might do if she caught wind of his suspicions.

Sera was amazed to see Tony come down to breakfast no more than an hour
later than usual.  She had not herself lost much sleep the previous
night, even though she had spent several hours dozing in a doorway, but
Tony could not get much more than five hours' sleep most nights.  She
did not say this, however, but poured black coffee for him and rang for
Rayburn so that he could bring Tony something more substantial than
bread and marmalade.

Tony attempted to read, but that threatened to reawaken the headache
that had finally dulled to reasonable proportions.  He did not feel
much worse than he used to when he'd had too much to drink.  "Do I look
that bad?"  Tony asked, casting the paper aside and stirring some sugar
into his coffee.

"No, your bruises scarcely show.  I was only surprised you got up.  I
almost did not myself."

"You promised me last night that you would not go wandering the streets
alone again.  It is very important to me that you keep that promise.  I
cannot ... do what I have to if I have you to worry about."

Rayburn came in, frowned at Tony and waited for orders.  "Bring me some
breakfast, will you, please?"  "Very good, m'lord.  What would you
like?"  "It doesn't matter."

"Cook will make anything you like.  There is some nice--"

"Anything!"  Tony almost shouted to get rid of him.  Rayburn stiffened
and left them.

"I'll keep my promise," Sera said, "but if you do not take someone with
you or use the carriage, I will order Chadwick to go with you, or send
him for you.  You can't stop me from doing that.  You worry me a great
deal more than I worry you."

"I don't think that can be true," Tony said, rubbing his head. "Someday
I will tell you what all this is about."  "When?"

"Good morning," Lady Amanda said, interrupting them, as she entered and
seated herself.  "You are both break-fasting late.  Tony, you look
terrible.  You should go back to bed."

Tony moaned and retreated behind the paper.  Sera began opening her
mail.

"Do you need the carriage today, Sera?"  Amanda asked.  "I should like
to get my errands done early."

"No, I don't need it at all today.  Do you need it, Tony?"  "No ... not
until tonight."  He dropped his paper long enough to earn a smile from
Sera, and acknowledge the platter of sausages and eggs Rayburn placed
on the table.

Lady Amanda rose and left then, after only a cup of tea.

Tony watched Sera load his plate and refill his cup.  "To answer your
question--" Tony began.

"Mr.  Cairnbrooke," Rayburn intoned, as though Win-wood were an unusual
visitor, rather than a daily one.  There was a note of disapproval in
the introduction, Tony thought.

"I have news--" Winwood almost staggered under three disapproving
stares.

"My God!  What have I done?"

"Winwood," Sera said patiently, "the fare you present as news is barely
digestible for lunch, almost palatable for dinner, provided I have had
enough wine, but never appetizing for breakfast."

Tony chuckled, nearly choking on a bite of food.  He was looking
forward to getting Winwood alone, so he could have a serious talk with
him.

"Well, so long as you are not angry at me," Win said as he poured
himself some coffee when no one else made a move to do it.  He also
helped himself to the remains of Tony's breakfast, drawing no more than
a glum stare from his host.

"I had almost forgotten," Sera said, looking at a creamy 227

parchment invitation.

"What?"  asked Tony, now that reading was impossible.  "An invitation
from the Falcrests to a masked ball."

"Do you want to go?"  Tony asked, but not with his usual look of
resignation.  He was smiling.

"I can take Sera, if you don't care to, Tony," Win offered.

Sera ignored Win.  "Yes, I would like to go very much, Tony."

Chadwick made a sign to Tony when he and Sera returned from their ride
the next day.  Sera looked suspicious, but went on into the house
alone.

"Have you made contact with Vonne's bird keeper?"  "Yes, fellow by the
name of Sands.  Cost my stomach something fierce to make the rounds of
the gin houses and find out where he drinks when he's in town."

"You have my every sympathy.  Will he meet with me?"  "I told him what
you would pay for information on a certain Mr.  N.R."  and he said he
would meet you Saturday night at midnight, in the alley in back of
Falcrest House.  He figured it would be safest, since everyone would be
masked anyway.  I knew you were going.  Was that all right?"

"Probably the safest place, but now that I think of it, I should try to
talk Sera out of going.  I hate to disappoint her again, but I don't
want to risk getting her involved."

"You could tell her what you're about.  She won't gabble it all
over."

"I don't want her to know more than she does already."  "Just in case
Rothschild is trying to have you burnt?"  "Yes.  You watch your step,
too."  "Always."

Sera had borrowed a costume from Lady Mellefleur that could not be
refurbished for The Count.  She and Marie had even chosen her jewels
and accessories.  So it was doubly provoking when Tony came in to say,
"I have thought better of the masked ball scheme.  I think we should
not go."  "Why not?"

"It's not a respectable atmosphere, even at-the Falcrests.  Something
about being masked makes both men and women very loose."

"If you don't want to go, I can get Win to take me."  "I said I don't
want you to go."

"You seemed to think it was a suitable entertainment when we got the
invitation.  Why have you changed your mind?"

"You know I am not at all awake in the morning."  "That's just an
excuse."

"It doesn't matter why.  I don't want you there."  "Because Madeleine
will be there?"  "Don't be stupid."  "Then tell me why."

"I don't have to tell you anything.  I want you to promise me you won't
put in an appearance there.  Your reputation has suffered enough."

"That's not my fault."  "I suppose it's mine?"  "No, it's Win's
fault."

"That's ridiculous.  Now promise me you'll stay home," Tony demanded.

"Lady Cairnbrooke will not be in attendance.  I'll send our regrets,"
Sera said shakily.  She turned away from Tony, and only knew he had
left by the slamming of the door.

Lady Cairnbrooke would not go to the masquerade, but Encrier fully
intended to be there.

As she ascended the broad stairs to the main foyer and thence the
ballroom Sera's courage nearly failed her.  If she was discovered in
Count DeVries's rig she would discredit both herself and Tony.  He
would never forgive her for playing such a trick, especially since it
was only to spy on him.

But perhaps she was being overly suspicious, and Tony would not even be
here.

Only a few heads turned to stare at her as she entered the room.  There
were quite a few powdered wigs and wasp-wasted coats in evidence, and
she wondered how many people had gone to the attic for their costumes.
She raised her quizzing glass, the better to search out Tony, but she
did not see him.  Yet that is not to say he was not there.  She could
pick out half a dozen figures who might be him.  She had not
anticipated this problem.  She made for the most likely candidate, but
could tell from the voice he was not Tony.  Yet she did not want to run
slam into him.

Then it occurred to her that she did not have to find Tony to achieve
her mission.  She had only to keep a watch on Madeleine.  That was easy
enough, for Madeleine made no secret of her identity.  She could be
found flirting with any of half a dozen men--none of them, thankfully,
Tony.  Sera was just thinking it had been a fool's errand after all
when Madeleine seemed to notice her and looked at her suspiciously.
Eventually she flounced over to Sera.

"You look so familiar," Madeleine cooed.  "You are an actor, aren't
you?"

"Of sorts," Sera replied in a choking voice, terrified, since even
Madeleine had placed her as coming from the Agora.

"Are you Brel?"

"No, although I have been told I resemble him-- The eyes--" Sera
faltered, keeping to her deepest voice.  "The other one, then, what is
his name?"  "Graden?  He, too, I resemble."

"I have it.  You are Encrier!  I saw you at the Holcrofts'."

Sera laughed.  "Actually, I am Encrier," she said truthfully,

"I'm surprised Lady Cairnbrooke is not hanging about your neck."

"She's not here--at least I have not seen her."

"I'm glad Tony did not bring her."

"What, is Cairnbrooke here?"

"Don't worry.  Tony has nothing to say about whom I talk to or dance
with.  Aren't you going to ask me to dance?"

"No---that is, I can't."

"Can't dance?"  Madeleine asked.  This Encrier did not play the game by
the rules, and she was beginning to be a little intrigued with him. She
had not yet made up her mind if she wanted the boy or not.  But the
morning gossips must lay at least one new heart at her door, so she
persisted.

"Come into the garden.  I will show you how to waltz."  "But, I--"

Madeleine dragged her rather ruthlessly onto the side portico and down
a flight of steps to the small back garden, where several couples
strolled to recover from the heat.

"But won't you ruin your dress?"  Sera asked, in a last-ditch effort to
discourage Madeleine.  She had never expected to encounter this sort of
problem.

"I don't care," Madeleine said recklessly.  "Don't you dance at all?"

"Not very much.  I am so short, you see, I look rather ridiculous."

"Not with me.  Now put your left hand in mine, thus, and your fight
hand on my hip so, then move with me when I back up."

Sera had no difficulty in doing this, and even became mildly intrigued
for a few minutes with reversing the steps of the waltz in her head.
When it occurred to her what an outrageous situation she was in, she
laughed out loud.  "What is so funny?"

"You-- I mean, you are not at all as I thought you were."

"And what did you think me?  I don't eat men, after all,

at least not young ones like you."

"Don't you?"

"They intrigue me, they are so biddable."

"You like to feel superior to them."

"I like them to adore me, to stare at me.  You were doing it."

"Was I?"

"You couldn't help yourself."

For a moment, Sera felt a qualm of compassion for this misguided woman,
and she could quite see how Tony could find himself bewitched by her.
All the more reason to make a push to rescue Tony once and for all.

"There are so many men.  Why do you meddle with the married ones?"

"I don't.  Oh, you are thinking of Tony.  But he was not married when
we were lovers."

"He's married now."

"You are a fine one to talk, spending half the evening with his wife at
the Holcrofts'.  I think that is why he dragged her away from there
after supper."

"We have a common interest, the theater."

"And I have a common interest with Tony.  We are in love."

"You are quite sure about that?  I mean, have you asked him lately?"

"Of course he loves me and not his wife.  He only married her for the
money.  She has no right to him."

"Well, you certainly have none.  Why do you dislike her so?  She is
only trying to save her marriage."

"Why should she be happy with Tony, when I am so unhappy?"

"Unhappy?  When you have a husband such as Vonne,

who adores you, who would do anything to keep you?"  "I am his
prisoner."

"And you love every moment of it.  If he kept you in chains, you would
like it even better.  That is the kind of woman you are."

"I am not.  I want to be free."  Madeleine wrenched herself away.

"To do what?  Wreck other people's lives?  You would not be at all
happy if Vonne did divorce you.  It's not very comfortable to be
infamous, believe me."

"Divorce?"

"Where else can all this lead?  How many more affairs will he tolerate
before he sickens of you?  He may have enough proof now to rid himself
of you."

"He wouldn't!"

"Perhaps not tomorrow or next week, but by next season,

yes, I believe he will.  He has a son to think of."

"My son, too."

"How much time do you spend with him?  You are like those dreamy
butterflies, brilliant but undiscriminating, fluttering from a fragrant
flower to a dung heap with equal ardor, attracted by any strong smell.
And, like them, your time will be short.  You've seen that for
yourself.  All the men you flutter after are younger than yourself, and
none of them take you seriously anymore."

"Tony loves me."

"I think not.  I see two paths for you.  One leads down into an
unspeakably dismal and lonely life of being abandoned time and again by
lesser and lesser men.  The other leads to a mature beauty and
contentment with a husband who loves you still and a child who could
learn to love you.  It should be interesting to see which path you
take.  Perhaps I will write a play about it, if it's not too sad."

"I hate you!"  Madeleine gathered her skirts and ran back up the
steps.

"And I feel sorry for you."

Sera gave Madeleine time to escape before she made her way back into
the ballroom.  She was just getting her bearings, and had decided to
seek Tony in the card room, if there was one.

"Encrier!"  Sera cringed as she heard her pseudonym called.  "So you
emerge from seclusion again!"  Travesian said jovially, clapping her on
the back so heartily he made her stagger.

"I didn't know you were invited," Sera said sotto voce.  '

"I imagine I am here to embarrass Lady Cairnbrooke.  Why isn't the good
lady in attendance?"

"Tony wouldn't bring me," Sera whispered.  "Have you seen him?"

"How is he dressed?"

"I have no idea.  I thought it would be easy to recognize him."

"Have a care he doesn't recognize you.  It's not like being on the
stage."

"The mask should take care of that."

"I knew you,"

"Yes, but you have seen me in these clothes before.  Tony has not--at
least I don't think he has--but perhaps you are right.  He will be
exceedingly angry if he finds me here like this."

"He will be more than angry, and rightfully so."  "What am I to do?"

"I wish I could advise you, child, but I have amorous difficulties of
my own."

"Lady Amanda?"

"Yes, she insists there is no impediment to our marriage, but I
hesitate to approach your husband about it."

"I can't see that Tony would have any say in the matter.  I do wish you
could put it off, though, until I am in better frame to help you."

"I shall try to keep her at arm's length, but you know what women
are."

"i had better go home,"

"Alone?  Stay in the refreshment salon for but ten minutes, and I will
walk you home."

Sera was doing as Travesian instructed, but the champagne was starting
to go to her head.

"Do I know you?"  Vonne asked, laying a hand on her arm.  "You look so
familiar, and yet--"

"Let go of me," Sera complained in her normal Voice.  "Lady
Cairnbrooke!"

"Quiet, Vonne.  Someone will bear you."

"But I thought--"

"I know what you thought, which accounts for your many duels."

"You should not be dressed like this."

"That is the least of my worries.  Have you seen Tony?

He has not been anywhere near Madeleine."  "Then I have not seen him."
"Or not paid any attention?"  "Why are you doing this?"

"I don't know.  I scarcely think anymore before I launch myself on one
of these adventures.  Do you expect anyone will recognize me?"  She
regarded one gold-buckled shoe with her quizzing glass.

"Perhaps not, so long as you don't speak."  "That's no problem.  I'll
use my stage voice."  "You must leave at once."  "Why?"

"Your reputation..."

"I have none left, thanks to Winwood."

"You don't mean he is the one who has been gossiping about you?"

"You don't think Madeleine invented all that herself, do you?"

"Yes, for I knew it wasn't true."

"But now you're not so sure.  You're not the only one becoming deranged
by this situation."

"I bet you don't know me," Winwood said, sauntering up to Vonne
proudly.  Sera attempted to turn aside, but was trapped by the table.

"Cairnbrooke, of course," Vonne guessed.

"Now, you I don't know," Winwood waved a finger at Sera.

"Encrier, at your service," Sera said, in such a deep voice with a hint
of French accent, that Vonne stepped back a pace and stared at her.

"But I have heard of you," Win continued drunkenly.

"And I of you.  I hope you don't mind if I use you in one of my plays.
I have a part for a loose tongue."

"Sir, you insult me."

"Sir, you insult us all," Sera said angrily.

Win turned on his heel and left.

"Weren't you afraid he would offer to fight you?"  "Winwood?  Not a
chance.  I imagine he was very helpful as Tony's second.  May I ask you
something about that, or are you not allowed to say?"

"You mean, did I enjoy it?  No.  It's damned tricky trying to wing a
man without maiming him, although I could now wish I had hit him a
little harder."

"My question?"

"Sorry, that is what Madeleine asked me.  What is your question?"

"Why didn't you accept Tony's apology?"

"He made none, nor any word that would excuse his behavior."

"But he did.  It appears Winwood simply did not convey it to you."

Lord Vonne's eyes bulged a little behind his mask.  "I remember his
cousin's exact words.  He said, "There is no question of an apology in
this case."  Now why would Cairnbrooke's own cousin want such an affair
to go forward if he could stop it?"

"Knowing Win, most likely he only had a bet on.  Of course, if you had
happened to kill Tony, Win is the next for the title."

Vonne whistled.  "I thought him a fool, not dangerous.  Did you tell
Cairnbrooke what he has done?"

"Tony won't believe anything against Win.  I'll have to take care of
this myself."

Suddenly she saw Tony come into the room and glance around.  Of course
she knew him.  He was not even in costume.  He stared in their
direction through the slits in his mask, telling her nothing, then
left.  Sera forgot all about her promise to Travesian and followed Tony
out the door opening onto the side portico and down the flight of
stairs where he seemed to have disappeared.  She spun to look around
for him, but the garden was empty.  Even the strolling couples had gone
in to the supper rooms.  She turned to go back up the steps, but was
detained by an arm that reached out of the shadows to block her path.

"Encfier, is it not?"  Tony asked.

"Yes," she gasped.  "How did you guess?"  she asked in her stage
voice.

"That's the same costume the count wore in your play.  Who else would
have access to it who would also have an invitation?"

"You're very acute."

"Acute enough to have discovered you are after my wife.  I want you to
leave London."

"And what does your wife want?"

"It's my duty to protect her."

"It's your duty to be a husband to her."  Sera found her' self
emboldened by the drink.  She could never have said such a thing to
Tony as herself.

"She told you about that?"  Tony did a good job of sounding aghast, for
he would have thought it the worst betrayal for Sera to have told that
to anyone.

"She must have someone to confide in.  You see, she knew me long before
you.  We met in Brussels.  We both felt her father would not approve of
me."

"I'm sure you are fight about that.  If you care about her at all, you
will leave her alone."

"The way you leave her alone, night after night?"  Sera asked
bitterly.

"She prefers it."

"She may let you think so, to ease your conscience.  She does not
prefer it."

"Does she prefer your company to being alone?"  asked Tony, playing
with Sera's mind a little.

"There was never anything between us except theater business and
friendship.  Now there is not even that."

"Then why send her love poems?  You are trying to seduce her," Tony
accused, wondering how Sera would worm out of that one.

"Not I. I know better than anyone how impossible that would be.  Your
wife has the misfortune to love only you."  "Why should I believe
you?"

"Why should I lie to you?  It's not too late.  You could be happy with
Sera, if you would only let yourself."

"Encrier!"  T:avesian cried, interrupting.  "There you are.  I am ready
to leave.  I hope the boy has not been troubling you, sir.  He has had
too much to drink."

"No, we were just having an interesting discussion on my wife."

"I will take him home now, Come, come," Travesian prompted, tugging
Sera back up the stairs.  "Why didn't you wait for me where I said?"

Tony let them go and went out into the alley to wait for Sands to come.
He began to think Sera was right when she said he asked too many
questions of the wrong people.  He might find himself with a knife in
his ribs yet.  He also began to wonder if Sera might not be better off
a widow.  She could cope with his mother and his estate at least as
well as he could.  And yet she said it was not too late.  Why did she
want him?  What did she see in him that he did not see in himself?.
There was still this Rothschild matter to get through.  If it turned
out as he hoped, she would not have to wait a year, or even a month. 
By then it would be decided one way or the other.

Tony returned from the ball by two o'clock, having given up on Sands.
He meant to go to Sera's room to have it out with her, but he saw the
light on in her library and went in to wait for her.  Bad enough she
had disported herself on the stage at the Agora as a man, but to do it
at close quarters, where she might easily be recognized, was the height
of insanity.  And to talk to him face-to-face, as though a man would
not know his own wife!  She had to be stopped before she mined herself
If Sera was not in the library.  He found only a litter of papers and a
half-empty teacup.  There came to his nostrils the smell of something
burning in the kitchen downstairs, and he could only think that was
what had called Sera away from her desk without her customary cleanup.
He sat down in her chair to wait, and idly drew one of her papers
toward him.  It was not an unfinished letter, as he had supposed, but
part of a play.  He would put a stop to her wasting her time copying
out scripts for Travesian, as well.  It was time to cut all ties to the
theater-- But something about the page bothered him.  It was new,
something he had not heard before.

Josette (angrily)

Don't speak to me of compassion and understanding, sir.  I have had
quite enough of both.  Your compassion you can keep for your dog.  He
needs it.  Your understanding bestow on your children, of whom I hear
you have many.  I desire something else.  Failing that, I want nothing
from you, least of all your false words.

Fabrel

How have I Played you false?  I have never lied to you.

Josette

Perhaps not, but you have danced around the truth with amazing
alacrity.  What truth is so terrible that you could not trust me, your
wife, with it?

Fabrel

A woman should not be burdened with such cares.

Josette

Should she rather be burdened with worry, not knowing the nature or
extent of your troubles?  That is a much greater burden, I assure you,
not to mention the burden of mistrust this places upon her.  I thought
I knew you.  I see now I was wrong.  You are like any other man.

Fabrei

Tell me what you want of me!  My love?  You have it a thousand times
over.

Josette

I want the one thing men do not give to women, even grudgingly.  I
want

There it ended, leaving Tony wondering, perhaps forever, what Josette
wanted from Fabrel.  He leafed through the other pages, but this was
the last, so he reread it.  Josette spoke to him with a new voice, but
in a familiar tone, almost as though he knew her.  Then it hit him that
he did know her.  All the other papers, even the scrawled notes, were
in the same hand.  Sera was not just copying a play.  She was writing
it.  Sera was Encrier.  Why had he not seen it before?  The poems.
Surely they were in this same hand.  It explained everything.  A
shudder of excitement went through him.  It wasn't another man who
consumed all her time.  It was these plays that had made him laugh;
that had made him look inside himself.

It was a shock to Tony.  He had always assumed that so long as he loved
Sera he was keeping faith with her.  Now he discovered that his love,
even his undying love, was not enough.

He envied Fabrel, who would know soon enough what was wanted of him,
Fabrel who would enjoy one of Sera's happy endings.  What was it that
Josette wanted, that Sera wanted?  He heard her voice comforting Cook
and sending her upstairs to rest.  He started guiltily, but Sera went
on up the stairs, as well, and he was able to make good his escape.

"Did you have an amusing evening?"  Tony asked, laying aside The Times.
For once it was Sera nursing a cup of weak tea and looking at the
breakfast in disgust.

"Not very," said Sera tiredly "Did you?  Oh, I was forgetting.  You
don't like cards."

"I went to the Falcrests'."  "Without a costume?"  "I had a mask."

"And who was there?"  Sera reigned boredom.  "Not the man I went to
meet."  "Man?"

"Yes, you might say it was a business appointment"

"Oh, that's why--"

"I didn't want you there.  Yes.  But since he did not show, I lost you
an evening's entertainment for nothing.  I'm sorry."

"I imagine it was not all that entertaining," Sera said, thinking of
her overdose of champagne.

"But Encrier was there, and I know how much you like him," Tony
teased.

"What do you think of him?"  she asked worriedly.

"He's young enough to be foolish, if youth can excuse such foolishness.
He's in love with you, you know."  "He can't have told you that."

"How would you know?"  Tony asked around a mouthful of ham.

Sera watched him eat, and realized Tony shared one trait with
Travesian, the ability to lose nothing of his charm by talking and
eating at the same time.  It was fascinating.  "Because ... because he
doesn't."

"Has he said he doesn't?"  Tony asked.

Sera got a grip on herself.  If she wanted to make Tony jealous, she
would say Encrier was madly in love with her, but somehow she could not
hurt Tony in that way.  "Not in so many words."

"Then how do you know?"

"What did he say?"  Sera asked, not remembering the conversation very
clearly at all.

"He did warn me I might lose you," Tony said, putting down his knife
and fork.  "I don't want that to happen."  He stared at her quite
intently, trying to read her, to understand her desperation.

"You'll never lose me," Sera promised, smiling at him mistily.

"I hope you may be right.  I can't ride with you today, but I should be
home for dinner.  We are having your father and Lady Jane, right?"

"Yes.  You remembered."

"I'm not entirely stupid, although I may often act like it."

Tony meant to seek out Sands on his home turf, if the fellow could be
found.  He was coming down the front steps to mount into his curricle
just as Win was about to come up them.  "Do you want to drive out to
Canterbury with me, Win?"

"Today, you mean?  Whatever for?"

"I have to see a man about some birds."

"I didn't think you approved of cock fighting

"Not that kind of bird."

"Oh-- Oh!  I see!"  Win grinned.

"Not that kind of bird, either, you rascal.  I'm a married man now."

"Whatever you say."

"You don't believe me," Tony paused to say.

"It's no business of mine."

"Well, do you want to come or not?  I shall be back by dinnertime.  You
can dine here if you like.  I'll tell Sera."

"I don't mind dining with you, but all the way to Canterbury and back
in one day!  No, thank you, not for any kind of bird."

"Then get in, and I will leave you at your club, or wherever you are
going."

"I was going here,"

"Win, I want to talk to you," Tony said seriously.

Win got in beside Tony, getting a thousand excuses ready in his mind
for whatever aspect of his behavior Sera had complained of.

"Why did you tell Sera I was still seeing Madeleine?"

"Aren't you?"  Win asked innocently.

"No!"  Tony almost shouted, catching the subtle shifting of blame from
Vrm to himself.  "But even if I were, why would you tell my wife?"

"Sera is a sensible girl.  She doesn't take these things to heart.  I
explained how it is to her."

"What exactly did you explain?"  Tony demanded, threading his way up
Saint James's Street and, by now, expecting that everything Win told
him, everything he had ever told him, was not just an exaggeration, but
an outright lie.

"That a man might have a mistress and still genuinely care for his
wife."

"You monster!  You really don't see anything wrong with that?"

"I don't know, Tony.  You are the one who had the affair."

"I wasn't married then."

"Madeleine was."

"Get out!"  Tony said, pulling the team up.

"I didn't want to come, anyway," Win said, hopping down from 'the
curricle.

"Don't go back to my house, either.  Do I make myself clear."

"Abundantly.  Do you take the road through Graves-end?"  Win asked,
straightening his cravat, as though nothing had happened.

"I suppose.  Why?"

"Nothing.  Rather dreary bit of highway."

Tony drove off in a fury.  He did not know who he was angrier with,
himself or Win.  As frivolous as Win was, he had cut to the heart of
the matter.  He had not been married, but Madeleine had.  Tony tried to
picture what he would feel like if another man made love to Sera as he
had done to Madeleine, and he could feel his gorge rise.  No wonder he
became unhinged occasionally when he suspected someone else was after
Sera.  He could not for the life of him understand why Vonne had not
put a bullet through his head, rather than his shoulder.

"Tony is very late, dear.  Did he say where he was going?"

"No, only that he would be back for dinner.  I hope he has not had an
accident with the team."

"Here comes a carriage."

"It's only Win," Sera said in disappointment.

"Evening ladies, sir.  Where's Tony?"  Win asked as he seated himself
in the drawing room.

"Not home yet."

Rayburn returned to the room to clear his throat significantly.  "Shall
I tell Cook to put back dinner again?"

"Perhaps we should go ahead and let them serve," Lady Amanda
suggested.

"It's only that he said he would be here," Sera replied.

"Oh, let's wait a bit, if we can," Sera's father said.  "The brandy is
rather good."

"Now, dear, you don't want to be tottering in to dinner," Lady Jane
said sweetly.

"Perhaps I should reconnoiter the kitchen situation," Sera said, making
for the door.

"You mean see how close to tears Mrs.  Teale is, ""Lady Amanda
corrected.

"Well, that, too."

Sera returned in ten minutes, announcing dinner for eight o'clock.  It
was the very longest she could put off Cook.  After that she valiantly
introduced topic after topic to try to keep the other guests amused.
Lady Amanda was patently angry and was no help to her.  "Even Win's
flow of small talk failed him, but he did consume a large amount of
brandy, which began to concern Sera.  Usually Win was so talkative he
drank very little.  They heard the sound of coach wheels from the
street.

"That's Tony, but that's not his team," Sera said from the window.
"There must have been an accident."

Win looked surprised, and Lady Amanda snorted her disbelief.

"You all go in.  We'll be with you in a moment."  Sera met Tony in the
back hallway, but he evaded her with a brief command to serve dinner
while he changed.  Sera had half a mind to follow him to his room and
demand an explanation, but the evening was strained enough without her
starting an argument.  Besides, he looked to be in one piece, and that
was her only real worry.

Tony missed the soup, but arrived in time to preside over the next
course with what Sera thought was a rather strained affability.  Win
gazed at Tony in disbelief, so Sera sought to draw attention away from
her husband by engaging Win in conversation, but she could not lure him
out on any of his favorite topics, even by tempting him with bits of
gossip.

There was something about the crease between Tony's eyebrows that told
Sera all was not as it should be.  She thought of the strange team job
horses, by the look of them.  One or both of Tony's team must be lamed,
but why then didn't he tell them so?  She waited.

Fortunately, the delayed dinner, which was not so very mined by being
held back, lasted so long into the evening that the guests took
themselves off almost as soon as the tea tray was served.

When they were at last alone, and Tony had risen wearily to go
upstairs, Lady Amanda said, "Tony, how could you?  It was really too
bad of you to be so late."

"Don't, Mother," Sera pleaded.  "Can't you see he is hurting? Something
happened to your team, didn't it?"  "Luce has a strained hock."  "And
Jasper?"  "Dead, I'm afraid."

"Oh, Tony, I'm so sorry."  Sera went to him and surprised a grant of
pain from him when she touched his ann.  "Were you thrown out of the
curricle?"  "It's nothing.  Stewart's already seen to it."

"We should have the doctor, anyway," Lady Amanda suggested.

"I want nothing so much as some sleep."

"You should go to bed, then," Sera advised.  "You needn't have sat
through dinner, if you weren't feeling up to it."

"I have disappointed you enough."

"I'm not disappointed."

To Sera's relief, Tony did go to bed instead of going out.  She found
she could go to sleep herself with a quiet mind, since she did not have
to wait up for him.

"You might have told me "Sera said in a hurt voice as she poured the
coffee.  "What?"  Tony asked, lowering his paper and looking truly
innocent.  "That you got shot again," she reminded him, smiling
sadly.

"Oh, that.  It's just a scratch."  "I'm sure we two have vastly
different ideas about what constitutes a scratch."  "Who funked on me?"
Tony asked with a grin.  "Stewart?"

"No, and you should be glad they care what happens to you."

"Jeffers, then... I told him--" "He only told Chadwick."  "Which was as
good as telling you."  "It's not funny, Tony.  Please be careful."

'"I

don't see how I could have prevented such an accident."

"Perhaps if you did not ask so many questions, these 'accidents' would
not happen to you."

"I

can't do anything without you knowing," he said in amazement as he
watched Sera stir cream and sugar into his coffee, exactly how much he
liked.  And he had never even noticed before.

"I don't spy on you.  I wish we could leave London.  It's no fun
anymore."

"We will.  I have a few things to do yet this season."

"I hope that doesn't include getting yourself knocked about some
more."

"I shall be extremely careful from now on."

"Not to let anything happen, or not to let me find out?"  Sera asked
suspiciously.

"How did you know something was wrong?  I thought I could pull it
off."

"I'm sure no one else noticed you were worn to the bone.  You are a
very good actor, in your way."

"But you knew."

"I know you at least well enough to see when you are in pain."

"How comes it that you know me so much better than I know you?"

"I have made a study of you," Sera said proudly.  "Like a book?"  Tony
asked in amazement.

Sera shrugged.  "I thought figuring you out would be like studying
anything else, geometry, for instance---or at least you would be no
harden But you are mUCh more complex than anything I have yet come
across."

Tony laughed reluctantly.

"You obey no rules of logic," Sera continued.  "I never know what you
are going to do, or how you will react to anything I say."

"Am I so inconsistent?"  Tony asked, shaking his head.

"Yes.  It makes life very ... exciting."  Her eyes were sparkling.

"I wish you didn't know so much."

"What?"

"It frightens me sometimes, what you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"I went to university.  You did not.  Yet I came out with nothing, or
only the morals of a cur.  It was all such a waste.  But you have lea
rued all I might have, and more."

"But it's all still there, waiting for you.  Did you think it ever
stopped?  Life would be so boring if you were not studying something,
even such a dangerous thing as Rothschild."

"Promise me you won't interfere there," he demanded intently.

"Very well.  I simply had not realized how ruthless he could be."

"We don't know it was Rothschild.  It would be risky for him.  I mean,
it's probably not a thing he would do himself, and to hire a
killer..."

"I just thought, how would he even know where you would be?  It's not
as though you travel that road every day."

"That's true," Tony said, with mock relief, thinking of how few people
had known of the trip.  "It must have been an accident, then."

Sera let this pass, since she was caught up in yet another problem. She
might have guessed that all her learning, as useless as most of it
seemed to her, would intimidate Tony, or any other man.  His reaction
to her presence in Brussels during the battle was evidence of that. She
had never been at pains to hide her bookish ness from him, nor did she
think she should have to.  Why pretend to a stupidity that was beneath
her?  She now realized that Lady Jane did.  Lady Amanda must have
pretended with Tony's father.  Watching the same woman under
Travesian's influence warmed Sera's heart.

Win appeared about the middle of the morning, looking a little
apprehensive.  Sera did not welcome him, but greeted him with
resignation.

"Is Tony about?"

"No, you know he's always gone by this time of day," she said from her
desk in the library.

"Actually, it was you I wanted to talk to."

"Me?"

"We have to tell Tony about us."

"What are you talking about?"  Sera slid her chair impatiently back
from her desk.

"Before he hears of it from someone else."

"There is no 'us' Win!"  She rose to face him.

"I have sat in your pocket these three months.  What are people to
think?"

"You must be mad."

"You are going to have to tell Tony about us.  He'll find out
anyway."

Sera closed her fingers around the inkwell.  It had a solid,
substantial feel to it.  The movement was not lost on Win.  He strolled
a little apart from her.

"He's open-minded.  He won't even care about an affair.  between us, so
long as he doesn't hear it from the wrong quarter."

"This affair is only something you have manufactured in your head.  Or
have you been spreading it about with your tongue, as well?"  she
demanded.

Win smiled, and Sera clenched her fists.  "I thought so.  But you have
forgotten one small thing.  I really don't care what anyone thinks of
me except Tony."

"He won't think much of you--"

"He knows all about your lies," Sera bluffed.

"He'd always believe me over you.  What are you going to do about it?"
He offered the challenge from what he considered a safe distance.

"Nothing."

"You can't have considered."

"I think I have given the matter all the consideration it deserves."
Sera resumed her seat and took up her pen again, knowing he could only
best her if she lost her temper.

"I'll tell him myself, then," Win said pettishly.  "It's--it's a matter
of honor."

"Now why is it so important that Tony thinks we have been having an
affair?"  Sera asked herself, certainly not expecting an answer from
Win.  "Don't tell me--one of your ridiculous wagers, no doubt.  And if
Tony goes roaring after you, everyone will think you have succeeded
with me.  What proof did they demand, I wonder-- Not your word?  No one
would accept that."

Win winced.  "If he doesn't hear it from me, he will hear it from
someone else."

"I wonder if you can afford to let that happen.  You are stirring too
many pots, Win.  You are going to get burned."  Sera was stroking the
quill against her cheek pensively.

"What do you know of it, you stupid girl?  If I tell Tony we are
lovers, he'll believe me."

"Noyou want me to say something to him so that he will believe it, or
draw his own conclusions.  You must think me very stupid.  Also, if you
tell him, he may bash your face in," Sera said optimistically.

"I will tell him," Win said, as petulantly as a tattling schoolboy.

"Yes, do.  Most likely he will not believe you, but even if he does, he
will only blame himself for throwing us together."

"You can't know that."

"Of course I know it, because I know Tony.  Initially he will be
terribly angry."  Sera paused to write a line.  "I'm quite sure he will
hit' you more than once.  When he calms down, he will be sorry for
that, of course.  He may even apologize, as he intended to apologize to
Lord Vonne."

It was as though she had slipped a knife into him.  Win looked at her
and blushed.

"That's the disadvantage of never telling the truth, Win.  After a
time, you can't keep it all straight," Sera said quietly.

"Nothing could have prevented--"

"You nearly got Tony killed!"  She cut into him with her stage voice.
He rolled his eyes at her, very much as Satin had that first time she
shouted at him.  But Satin could be reformed.  Sera knew that Win could
not.  "For that, I will never forgive you!"

Win left, and Sera wondered if she should have played that particular
card.  She weighed the danger from Win against the hurt Tony would feel
if he found out the extent of his cousin's machinations.  No, it was
not worth it to cause Tony even a moment's pain just to get back at
Win.  Besides, she could handle Win.  She had proven that today.

Chapter Twelve

"The Vonnes are retiring to Wingham for the summer,"

Tony announced at breakfast one morning."

"Because of Madeleine's escapades?"

"Possibly.  The Rothschilds have been invited, but whatever other
excuse Vonne may give, people will think it's because he can't control
Madeleine."

"I wish I could help Vonne somehow."

"Admirable.  Do you think you can get him to invite us for a few
days--both of us?"

Sera's brows drew together in a look of concentration.  With her
generous mouth pursed together, she looked like an over serious child,
and he smiled at her in spite of himself.

"This has something to do with Rothschild visiting him, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but more than that I cannot tell you."

She took a sip of tea, wondering if she should be helping Tony in his
campaign against Rothschild, as dangerous as it was.  But then, he had
said "both of us."  If she was there with him, she would not worry so
much.  "I'll get us invited, then.  I'll tell him it's to demonstrate
how happily married we all are," she said blithely as she took a bite
of toast.

"What?"  Tony gasped, then broke into peals of laughter.

"Your invitation, sir," she said, leaning over Tony's shoulder like a
conspirator the next morning.  "Vonne is having a trial run of some
birds he wants to sell to Rothschild, and we are invited to witness the
finish of the race, since we seemed so interested in Vonne's
pigeons."

"Yes, I know.  That's why I wanted to go this weekend.  When are we to
present ourselves?"

"The Vonnes are driving out tomorrow.  We are invited for lunch
Thursday, and for the weekend.".

"Perfect!  I shall have plenty.  of time."

"You're not going to tell me what this is all about, are you?"  she
asked impishly.

"Someday I will--I hope someday soon."  "Unfortunately, and only to
discomfort me, Madeleine has also invited Win," Sera said, passing
another note over to Tony.  "She says she knows how much I enjoy his
company."

"Damn!"

"My reaction exactly.  You don't suppose he will refuse?"

"Not a chance.  I'll have to work around him."

"I'll try to keep him busy, if it's important."

"Could you?  I know it's a horrible thing to ask of you, after all his
lies."

"I can handle Win."

"Well, he had better not expect to ride out in our carriage.  We may
have to put up with him in public, but we don't have to talk to him in
private."

Sera looked a little surprised, but went on opening the mail and
drinking her tea.  "He can't possibly ride with us, since we will be
taking Father and Lady Jane.  Lady Jane has just written that they have
been invited, as well."  "Good, your father will be in for the kill."

"Tony, Father doesn't even like to hunt," Sera said innocently.  Tony
only smiled.

They went back to their breakfast, but the next letter put a crease
between Sera's eyebrows.

"Drop the other shoe," Tony advised.  "Who else is coming?"

"It's from Wentworth."

"Also to discomfort you.  I'm sure he plans on accepting, but you can
keep him at arm's length."

"And he says Encrier has been invited, as well," Sera said, in dumb
amazement.

"Encrier?  But that's--" Tony stopped himself.

"Going to make for an interesting weekend," Sera finished for him.

"Remind me never to throw one of these parties.  They tend to get out
of hand."

"Very," Sera agreed.

Tony would have liked to hang about and find out how Sera was going to
manage to be two people at once, or how she was going to get hold of
her actor friend, whoever he was, but he had far too many arrangements
to make himself.  He kissed her cheek and made off toward the stables,
even though he was not dressed for riding.  He could not help chuckling
a little over Sera's dilemma, but she had handled worse situations.  He
had every confidence she could carry off a whole weekend with her alter
ego.

He stopped dead in his tracks.  It suddenly occurred to him what Sera
wanted more even than his love.  He had always been begging her to
trust him.  He had only recently come around to having that kind of
trust in her.  She wanted his respect.  She wanted to be taken
seriously, and he did that now.  It had not happened overnight, and he
realized she must have been going through the same painful process of
learning to put her faith in him, with much loss incentive.

He wondered how many couples never came to that sort of trust and
respect.  Certainly Vonne and Madeleine never had.  That he and Sera
had reached it without really being married was inexplicable to him. He
wanted to go back inside to share his revelation with her, but she
already knew, of course.  She was usually one jump ahead of him, and he
admired her for it.

He caught Chadwick polishing tack and closed the door of the small room
behind him.  It reeked of oil and good leather and made Tony feel
confident.  "Chadwick, I have a job for you---one you may choose not to
do, and I won't think the less of you for it.  You probably wonder why
I come to you rather than Jeffers for these errands, but you did such a
good job of rescuing Tansy, I admire your resourcefulness."

"Mr.  Jeffers is an excellent groom sir, but a touch on the gullible
side."

"Yes, witness how regularly Sera dupes him.  This task requires a
certain subtlety that I fear Jeffers lacks."  "So, how illegal is this
job?"

"Not very, at least not the part I want you to perform.  I need to
borrow a pigeon from Rothschild, and I can't think how to manage it."

"Oh, borrow?  Not steal?"

"We shall be returning it in a few days, none the worse for wear.  You
will feed it in the meantime.  We are actually doing Rothschild a
favor, taking care of it for him."  "Let me consider.  When do you need
it?"  "Before Thursday."

Chadwick smiled and nodded.  He had come to think more highly of Lord
Cairnbrooke than many of the man's own servants, but then, he knew
about Tansy and the promise that had passed between Lord and Lady
Cairnbrooke on the way back from the farm.

Tony responded to a tapping on his small study window later in the day
and peered out to see a grimy face smiling at him.  "Chadwick, is that
you?"  Tony mouthed, then nodded as Chadwick motioned toward the
stables.  Tony followed as nonchalantly as he could into the tack room.
Jeffers stared at them but said nothing, only shook his head and
recommended the distracted Dillon get back to work.

"Excuse the dirt, sir, but the most likely way to g to the roof at New
Court was as a sweep."

"Excellent idea.  Too bad you had to sweep all chimneys just to make
off with one bird."

"I only did one, then I went to make sure of the eh: Had a bit of a
falling-out with Mrs.  Rothschild about fee."

"So you got yourself thrown out without finishing job."

"I left of my own accord.  I took my brooms and b brushes and left in a
huff," Chadwick saM, swingin box up onto the table.

"And your box has a pigeon in it, I hope.  Excelle nice plump one."

"Do you think it will be missed?"

"Vonne might miss one of his birds.  I doubt Roths will.  Now here's
the message to secure to its leg," Tony, handing Chadwick the vial with
a paper in it.

"Will I be able to get to France in time to release i "No need for
that.  Just release it from here Friday n ing.  Then go to my agent's
and wait.  He should have word to send me by you toward afternoon."

When Tony left, ChadWick was sprinkling some gra had had the foresight
to steal into the box with the and telling it he would get it a nice
drink of water, much as Sera might have talked to it.  So that was she
got it from, this talking to animals.

The risk Tony proposed taking was immense, but it the only quick means
to his end.  He had chosen a ship the investment over which he would
lead Rothschild as It had to be something with a small enough number of
shares that Tony's twenty thousand would mean so met and a venture in
which Rothschild was heavily involved so that his selling would drop
the price of the shares.  No one else would assume Rothschild had
received word from his couriers about a shipwreck, and not snap up the
shares

The Vespa was not due in port for a week.  The timing was perfect.

If all went as planned, Tony would, in a few short days, redeem his
father's fortune and hand Sera back her marriage settlement.  If it
turned out that they could not stampede Cohen into selling Rothschild's
interest in the Vespa, nothing would have changed.  If by some chance
the Vespa did indeed sink, Tony would be back where he'd started a year
ago.  The thought made him queasy.  One way or another, it would all be
over soon.  But even if he failed, Sera would never know, and she would
still love him.

They Were fourteen for luncheon: the Vonnes, the Fal-crests, the
Caimbrookes, the Rothschilds, the Barclays, Winwood, Lady Parmiter,
young Wentworth, and Encrier, who was being played by Christopher
Graden.  Sera reflected that the guest list looked like a slugging
match between Lord and Lady Vonne.

For every respectable couple Vonne had invited, Madeleine had countered
with a guest to Salve her ego or irritate Sera, Lady Parmiter had been
a surprise, but Sera decided that if she could keep her temper with
Win, she should be able to stomach Lady Parmiter.  Besides, she might
collect some damaging lines to add to her satire about them.  She had
that to look forward to.  She had told Graden he need not get mixed up
in her mess, but he had courageously accepted the invitation, even
though Brel had advised him not to anger Tony.

After a somewhat stilted meal, Lord Vonne invited those who cared to
ride on a tour of the estate, while Madeleine guided the less active
members of the party, the Barclays, the Rothschilds and Lady Parmiter,
around the gardens and orchards.

Wingham was some ninety acres, with stands of woods in three corners
and the cow barns and pastures in another.  The house was situated
toward the middle, surrounded by orchards and windbreaks.  The rest of
the land was g over to hay and grains.

Tony rather thought they were seeing it at its best at time of year,
with the fields undulating green in the br He could remember Oak Park
looking this good whe: was a boy, but that had been before he found out
encumbered it was.  The full magnitude of the mess inherited had almost
unhinged him.  Thank God for pull him out of it.  He could feel easy at
Vonne's p away from the load of his responsibility.  Perhaps, i went as
planned, he would be able to return to Oak with a quieter mind.

They rode east out of the stableyard, toward the barns and pastures.
Vonne and Tony were riding together.  Winwood, Encrier and young
Wentworth trailed be them.  Sera dropped back to ask Marissa about
Eliza and her baby boy.

"They are both fine.  They have named him John.  Jason's father.  I
would not suggest a call just yet."

"Of course not.  Elizabeth must rest," Sera agreed.  "Not that,"
William said.  "Jason won't let an yon without fidgeting himself into a
sweat.  Any attempt by Victoria to hold the child has him hovering in
case should let its head drop."

"I think Jason is sweet," Sera said, hoping Tony w be half so concerned
when she gave birth.  It was the time she had thought of her own child
as a certainty a made her smile.

"I can only say I'm glad I never made such a fool of myself," William
offered.

"Oh, really?"  Marissa challenged, but William rode to talk with Vonne
and Tony, pretending he had not heard

Tony and William both exclaimed over the size of Vonne's bull, but
Vonne's discussion on breeding bored everyone else.  After twenty
minutes, Tony had arranged to buy a young bull and four cows for
delivery in the

Sera looked at the two men in amazement.  It was as though the whole
affair with Madeleine had never happened.

They cut through the pastures, jumping the low fences with ease.  Even
Encrier did not have many bad moments with his horse, but it was
obvious he was just along for the ride.  They made their way through
the northern section of woods, which was mostly oaks, then skirted the
hay fields.  Vonne jumped a hedge that bordered the western wood lot
and each followed in turn.  Graden went last, and Sera looked around to
see him pushing his way through it.  Nothing wrong with that.

Here trees were slowly being culled for firewood, and pleasant glades
had opened where the sun encouraged an assortment of wildflowers and
grasses to spring up.  But when they crossed the drive and came into
the south woods, Sera was entranced by the prospect of the shaded
stream.  Already she was laying out a similar riding trail at Oak Park
in her mind.  She felt sure Tony would let her have one cut, and they
would have such fun arguing over its precise path.  Here, at the upper
reaches of the stream, it was wide and shallow, and they stopped to let
the horses stand ankle-deep in the cool water and drink.

"Where is Your riding trail going to be?"  Tony asked her.

"How did you know I was laying one out in my head?"  Sera asked in
surprise.

"I could tell you were thinking about something, and that you were
pleased."

Vonne looked from one to the other of them, and was satisfied that Sera
had won her bet.  Cairnbrooke did indeed look besotted.

As they crossed the stream and broke out of the woods near the kitchen
gardens, a flock of pigeons, at least fifty, swept up from the roof of
the stable and flew in Unison in a wide arc around the yard, the sun
glinting off their feathers at exactly the same angle.

"How do they do that?"  Sera asked in amazement.

"Do what?  Fly?"

"No, how do they keep together?  They all turned at the same time, as
though they were one creature, of one mind, not many."

"I have no idea," Vonne conceded.  "That's what makes them so
fascinating."

They rode into the stableyard just as Madeleine had been prevailed upon
by Rothschild to show him the pigeon loft above the stable.  Lord Vonne
took over, since it required the climbing of a ladder.  Sera
reluctantly accompanied her hostess and the rest of the guests toward
the house.  She would have liked to see the pigeons for herself, but
thought it would be unladylike to insist.

"I want to thank you," Sera said to Madeleine, "for showing Father your
orchards.  I should have warned you he is a tree man himself, and would
try to talk you out of all sorts of grafts."

"Actually, he delivered most of the tour.  He knows much more about it
than me.  He will have to see Vonne about his cuttings."  Madeleine
seemed strangely subdued to Sera, and she wondered what Vonne had
threatened her with if she did not contrive to treat their guests
politely.  Or perhaps Madeleine was just tired from being dragged
through the kitchen garden, flower gardens and orchards by an
overenthusiastic guest.

Madeleine led them in through a double side door of mullioned glass. It
was a large flagged room with tall windows, wrought-iron furniture,
four large boxed orange trees and much other tropical foliage
besides.

"They were supposed to have moved the orange trees outside already,"
Madeleine informed them, as she seated herself by a small table, A
servant appeared almost immediately with lemonade, a welcome
refreshment after being in the sun and wind for a few hours. Everything
about the room was cool, the shade from the trees, the breeze that
flowed through from the house, the lemonade, and even the iron seats. 
Sera was well on the way to planning the construction of such a
sanctuary at Oak Park when the nurse brought young David to be
presented.  Madeleine beamed with pride as he made his bow, sat down
beside her and accepted with both pudgy hands a half glass of
lemonade.

David stared, round-eyed, at everyone in the room.  Sera smiled at him,
as they all did, but there was a strange tightness in her throat that
kept her from speaking.  Perhaps it was only the tartness of the drink.
Lady Parmiter fanned herself wearily, but Lady Jane and Marissa engaged
David in conversation about his day's activities.

Sands, the man Tony had long sought an interview with, was trapped in
the pigeon loft, and quite shocked to be confronted without warning and
in a small space by the three men he least wanted to come together:
Vonne, his employer; Rothschild, who was attempting to hire him away
from Lord Vonne; and Cairnbrooke, who had offered to pay for
information on Rothschild's activities around mid-June of the previous
year.  No one said anything at all threatening, but it was clear to
Tony that Sands felt he was the victim of some sort of conspiracy, and
he looked from one to the other of them like a prisoner about to have
evidence laid against him.  He stumbled over even the simplest question
that Vonne referred to him, so Vonne delivered most of the bird lore
himself.

"When can we look for the birds to arrive?"  Rothschild asked in his
thick accent.

"No later than noon tomorrow.  I am racing two different breeds---one
from Belgium, and one I have reared up here.  It should be interesting
to see which will arrive first."

The dinner was of the finest, of course.  Rothschild tasted and
approved each dish and wine like a connoisseur, exchanging an
occasional nod of approval with his wife.  Sera thought he had never
looked so benign, and she almost regretted whatever plot Tony had
hatched against him.  But

Rothschild had millions, and Tony could not possibly him to any
extent.

Had no one else said anything, it would have been evitable that the
enthusiastic Wentworth would intro the topic of his work and Encrier's
at the dinner table.  den was thankful Travesian had given him all the
sc Sera had written so far for Lord Tarmiter's Wife.  At i he had some
idea how to answer Wentworth, but he no notion how much of it he could
safely talk about front of Lady Parmiter.

"Is it true you have put me in one of your plays?"  asked Graden
belligerently.

"Oh, surely not," Graden said, looking desperately Sera.

"You remember--Dimwood," Sera said.

Graden took a large gulp of wine and swallowed for Sera had indeed
recited Dimwood's lines for him.  he was enough of a professional not
to flush.  He smiled sheepishly at Winwood.

"There are those people," Tony said, "who would {

sider it a compliment to be cast in one of Encrier's pla' "Not if he
means to malign me," Win returned.

"Now that would be hard to do," Sera blurted out, looked an apology at
Tony until she saw him laughing

He sobered himself to some extent.  "I think we can on Encrier to tell
the truth about you," Tony replied cah Win got red in the face and
began to sputter.

"Now why would that make you angry?"  Wentw asked innocently.

"I shall take you to court," Win threatened.  "Surely not over a play,"
Sera said.  "Won't that just attention to any similarities there might
be between you this Dimwood character?"

"I won't tolerate it," Win sputtered.

They were all beginning to laugh at him now, including the
Rothschilds.

"Oh, we have been through that sort of thing before Graden assured him.
"It is no end of publicity for the play.  If you can but promise to
drag me into court, the thing is sure to be a success, even if it has
no merit of its own."

"But can bad publicity really be good for a play?"  Vonne asked with a
chuckle.

"As Travesian would say," Graden recited, "any publicity is good
publicity."

The whole table laughed, except for Win and Lady Par-miter.  Madeleine
was so absorbed in watching Tony, she didn't quite follow what was
going on.

"Well, no one had better put me in such a work," Lady Parmiter warned.
"It would be like having a broadside cartoon circulated about one."

"Too late," Sera said sadly.  "People who don't want to be satirized
should lead quieter lives."

"What do you mean?"  the woman demanded.

Graden by now had drunk two glasses of wine, and was beginning to roll
with the scene.  "Dear lady, if only you will drag me into court, my
success will be complete."

"What have you done?"  she demanded in shocked accents.

"Only a dinner scene.  I had thought it the highlight of my piece.  Now
I begin to think I will write tonight in, as well.  Think of it, a play
within a play.  And I can play myself.  Why, it's perfect."

"Now you sound like Travesian," Sera said indulgently.  The thought
that Encrier might be making mental notes suppressed any further
conversation from Win and Lady Parmiter, and reduced the rest of them
to commonplaces.  Sera sent Tony a flashing smile, and he responded.
Sera could tell he would have liked the banter to continue, also, but
it did border on cruelty.

"How does one remain a lady while dabbling in the theater?"  Lady
Parmiter demanded of Sera.

Sera's father was about to open his mouth in defense of his daughter
when Sera said, "Being a lady is a state of mind.  A real lady can get
away with almost anything without lessening herself."

"Oh, I forgot to ask," Tony said, interrupting her.  "What is the name
of the new play?"  Tony knew full well what was at the top of all
Sera's pages.

Graden paused for effect.  One so seldom was handed a coup de grace
such as this.  "Lord Tarmiter's Wife," he said sweetly.

Lady Parmiter gasped in outrage, which sent Vonne chuckling off into a
coughing fit.  The woman stormed out of the dining room.  Lady Jane
looked significantly at Madeleine and said perhaps the ladies should
leave the gentlemen to their brandy, since they seemed to be getting
rather boisterous.

Madeleine, recalled to her duties as hostess, rose, as did Sera, to
cover Lady Parmiter's hasty exit with a semblance of normality.
Madeleine was blushing, and Sera almost felt sorry for her, but the
look the woman cast at Tony as she left nipped that in the bud.  They
went to their respective rooms to freshen up.

Sera and Tony had separate rooms, of course, but they had communicating
doors, which Sera had thought very COnsiderate of Vonne.  She wondered
if Madeleine had raised a protest over that.

"How goes it?"  Made asked.

"We have nearly put Lady Parmiter to flight.  I do not see how she will
last the weekend.  Unfortunately, Win is more redoubtable, or more
dense.  I do not believe we will be able to dislodge him.  Is my hair
all right?"

Cards seemed the safest after-dinner pastime, since they required a
deal of concentration.  The Rothschilds and Barclays were playing
against each other.  Madeleine left Lord Vonne to be partnered by Lady
Parmiter against Sera and Tony.  Madssa volunteered to play the
pianoforte for them, and William seemed content to turn her pages.
Rather than set up a third table, Madeleine took the three unattached
males to examine the plants in the conservatory.  Fortunately, there
was no way for Madeleine to draw Tony off.

Sera glanced at Vonne for his reaction, but he merely shrugged.

Sera and Tony, teamed together, swept the table again and again, until
Vonne called, "Enough!  I should have remembered you two play together
like a couple of fiends.  Do you read each other's minds?"

"But cards are so simple," said Sera.  "There are so few of them to
keep straight."

Vonne looked at her with good humor.

"Yes, when one is used to keeping a thousand details straight in one's
mind, cards are no real challenge," Tony said.  Vonne and Sera both
thought he meant about running a household.  Tony was actually thinking
of her plays, and how they meshed together, the lines, the gestures,
the costumes.  Everything was perfect.  It was only his fault that era
could not keep their real life swimming along so smoothly.  Yet she
said she liked the excitement of the unexpected, like playing that game
with Win and Lady Par-miter tonight.  Tony actually began regretting
shaking Win off.  Who could they torture in future with a clear
conscience?

Tony had gone upstairs to get Sera's shawl as the games broke up and
the points were being toted.  "Tony!"  gasped Madeleine as he passed
her door.  "I must speak to you!"

"No, you must not speak to me,.  not alone, anyway, and certainly not
in your bedroom."

"Where, then?"

"I have nothing to say to you, Madeleine, except thank you for a
charming dinner, and I look forward to a ride tomorrow."

"But what about us?"

"I've told you before, I am married now.  I've made my peace with
Vonne.  I don't want old wounds opened again, especially mine."

"How can you desert me like this?  The only reason I countenanced this
house party was to get to see you."

"I'm sure you really believe that, but I have given up trying to
understand you.  I don't think it's possible."

"If you don't listen to me, I shall do something desperate."

"So you always say."  Tony went on down the stairs, congratulating
himself on not letting Madeleine delay him long enough to cause the
smallest remark.

"Tony, look how much we won," Sera said in delight.

"Enjoy it while you can.  We may very well lose it all back tomorrow
night.  That's the way it is with cards."  "Always?"  she asked.

"Unless you are very careful."

Half the gentlemen were having brandy rather than tea, and Sera had not
yet received her cup when Madeleine entered the room, her hands behind
her back.  "I told you I would do something desperate," she said,
looking at Tony as she drew out a knife.  Several shocked gasps caused
Vonne to turn from his conversation and drop his wineglass with a crash
onto the stone hearth.

"No, no," Sera said pettishly as she rose and walked toward Madeleine.
"You've got it all wrong.  Lady Macbeth would have held the dagger so,"
Sera said as she deftly took the weapon and demonstrated.  The
assembled crowd, and Madeleine herself, gaped at Sera.  "You've
forgotten everything I taught you.  We shall have to try another
entrance.  Excuse us, please."  Sera herded Madeleine through the open
doors and turned to close them behind her.

Vonne tottered, and was on the point of start' rag after them.  Tony
stopped him with such a slight shake of his head that no one else
noticed.  "Much as I try, I cannot wean Sera from the theater," Tony
complained affably.  "It appears we are to be treated to some amateur
theatricals tonight."

Marissa regarded Tony thoughtfully, and might have gone after the other
two women, if William had not laid a hand on her shoulder.

"That's Travesian's influence," said Barclay.  "I'm almost sorry I ever
introduced Sera to him."

"Oh, he's not such a bad fellow," Tony allowed.

Sera grabbed a branch of candles from the hall table and pushed
Madeleine into a dark salon two doors away.  "I knew you were foolish,
but I never expected anything like that.  Are you trying to give Vonne
heart failure?"

"I don't care about Vonne.  I want Tony."

"You only want Tony because he's not available.  If he were free, you
would immediately lose interest in him."  "That's not true.  I love
Tony."

"Well, I love him, too, and you can't have him.  What happened with you
was almost an accident.  You caught him at a weak moment.  I believe if
he had not been drinking, it never would have happened.  It couldn't
have amounted to much of an affair, if Tony was as drunk as he
claims."

"Well, it didn't even happen," Madeleine complained.  "He fell asleep.
Men can never make love when they have had that much to drink."

"What?"

"Tony never even made love to me, and still I hold him."

"Tony was innocent, and you risked his life for your vanity?"  Sere
approached menacingly.

"It might have been true," Madeleine said, as she eyed the knife in
Sera's hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He might have done it.  Don't come near me!"

Sera glanced at the knife and tossed it onto the sofa.  Just as
Madeleine breathed a sigh of relief, Sera caught her a ringing slap
that shocked Madeleine into silence.  "I don't think you will ever stop
lying to yourself, but remember this as you wallow in your half-truths.
If you even come near Tony again, I will shoot you.  And such a scar on
your white flesh won't look nearly so attractive as it does on Tony."

"It's impossible that he should not love me."

"I don't suppose he hates you, as I do, even though he has more reason.
All so stupidly needless, when you have a husband who adores you and a
child who is aching to love you."  Sera retrieved the knife then, and
Madeleine fell back against the wall as Sera brushed past her.

Sera paused for a moment in the hall to calm her temper.  The butler
was staggered to see a houseguest, especially a female, leaning against
the wall, brooding, with her arms crossed and a knife in one hand.  His
shock brought back Sera's good humor.

"She won't do it, I'm afraid," Sera said as she reentered the drawing
room and tossed the' knife onto the table.  Vonne exhaled noticeably.

"There are just those people who cannot take direction.  Father, do you
remember that actor Travesian first got to play Lord Mellefleur?"  Sera
asked her father as she went and poured herself a cup of tea.

"Quentin?  Impossible fellow."  Vonne slipped quietly from the room as
several others joined in a discussion of Travesian's successes.

Now that Vonne had shown them about his estate, Tony and Sera took
their usual early-morning ride by themselves.  Sera was as well mounted
as Tony, so she need not always follow him.  She was racing him on a
tall chestnut mare Vonne had lent her and looked to have enough of a
lead to beat him back to the house.  She put the mare at the hedge
between the hay fields and the wood lot but at the last possible
moment, the horse shied.  It went up into a rear to save itself from
crashing into the hedge.  Sera hung on gamely--long enough to
overbalance the beast.  Tony screamed her name and watched hopelessly
as the horse threatened to topple backward onto her.  Sera slid off,
and had the presence of mind to roll.  Tony braked his horse and threw
himself between the mare's flailing hooves and his prone wife.

The horse righted itself and stood trembling abjectly.

Sera pushed herself up on one elbow.  "What happened?"  "You fell,
finally.  Are you all right?"

"Yes, and I don't even appear to have gotten very dirty, but I thought
the mare kicked you."

"No more than a love tap.  Are you sure you can stand?"  he asked as he
helped Sera struggle to her feet.

"I can't understand what made Chelsea balk like that.  She took this
hedge yesterday without any bother."  Sera inspected the mare.  "Easy,
girl.  I'm not angry with you."

"Perhaps a bird spooked her," Tony said as he peered into the hedge.
"Oh, my God!"

"What?  A rope?  Who would have put that there?  I didn't even see it.
Good thing Chelsea detected it.  If she had hit it, there's no telling
where we would have landed."

"Most likely she would have been on top of you."  "Oh, Tony!"

"What?  I didn't mean to scare you.  Don't think about it."

"You would normally have jumped the hedge in front of me.  The trap was
meant for you."

"Nonsense, some boys playing a joke.  I'll speak to Vonne."

"Stop pretending.  Someone is trying to kill you, and it isn't
Vonne."

"I never thought it was."  "Rothschild?"  Sera guessed.  "I used to
think so."

"He wouldn't have known where we ride."

"Then it must be Win," Tony concluded sadly.

"I should have more than hinted at my suspicions about him," Sera said
regretfully.

"What stopped you?"

"I thought my dislike of him might be clouding my judgement.  And such
an accusation can never be taken back."

"But you have always disliked him?"

"He lies to me about you.  Most likely he lies to you about me.  And he
did try to make love to me."

"Yes, the bash on the head."  Tony's face was set and dangerous.  Sera
had never seen him look as though he could do murder before.  Yet she
was not afraid of him.

"What are you going to do?"  she asked, taking his arm as though to
restrain him.

"Confront him.  He's a coward at heart.  Don't worry yourself.  You
need never see him again."

Winwood whirled from the.  dressing table as his bedroom door crashed
open.  "Tony!"

"Surprised to see me ... alive?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."  Win's eyes shifted to his
valise.

"Leave us," Tony said to Win's startled valet, and waited for the man
to close the door behind him.

"The thug who waited for me in Saint James's--a fighter from one of
your boxing salons?  And the shot in the dark, now that might have been
you.  You are a decent shot.  I shrugged those incidents off.  But
today you have almost killed my wife."

"What?"  Win braced himself, as though for flight.  "Sera went over the
hedge first."  "She's not--"

"No, she survived your trap."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Too late, Win," Tony warned, advancing on him.  "Craton!  Craton!" 
Win leapt to the bag and scrabbled at it, coming up with a pistol, but
by then Tony was upon him.

Vonne came on Craton wringing his hands in the hall, and was on the
point of asking him what was wrong when a gunshot made them both jump.
Vonne lunged into the room to find Tony staring amusedly at the bed
canopy.  Win was moaning on the floor, holding a hand to his eye, but
there was no blood.

"You'll let me know what all this costs," Tony said to Vonne.

"So you finally know what it is like to be insanely jealous."

"It goes deeper than that.  Trying to murder me was one thing.  But
laying that trap where anyone might have fallen into it was
despicable."

"Trap?"  Vonne asked.

"He stretched a rope across that hedge we jumped yesterday."

"My God, you might have killed anyone!"

'"It was a joke," Win said lamely from the floor.

Tony restrained Vonne when he looked to be about to attack Win, also.

"I want you out of my house within the hour," Vonne ordered.

"You're sending me away with no breakfast?"  "That's right."

"And I want you out of the country," Tony continued.  "You had best pay
an extended visit to your mother in France.  I don't want to see your
face again."

Tony and Vonne left to go down to breakfast together.  "You know he has
been after Sera?"  Vonne asked him.

"Yes, but I find that she is rather resourceful, and well able to take
care of herself."

"I envy you, Cairnbrooke."

"Thank you.  I'm afraid I do not return the sentiments."

Vonne hesitated on the steps.  "He lied to both of us, didn't he?  I
need not have shot you."

"It certainly brought me to my senses."

"Perhaps that was Sera."

"Was that a shot?"  Wentworth asked as Tony and Vonne entered the
breakfast parlor.

Lauremes

"Yes, it was," Vonne said calmly, taking his seat, but declining to
elaborate on the subject.

Wentworth glanced at the other guests, but since no one else seemed
inclined to pursue the matter, he assumed it was none of his business,
and filled his plate from the sideboard.  While they were at breakfast,
Win left, taking Lady Parmiter with him, and the first of the racing
pigeons arrived.  Sera considered it a good trade.  The stable lad who
brought this news and the time of the bird's arrival, with its number
carefully memorized, prompted Vonne to ask where Sands was.  The lad
didn't know.  The gentlemen went out to the pigeon loft, so that
Rothschild could begin to dicker for his breeding stock.

Sera spent the morning with her father, Lady Jane, Mrs.  Rothschild and
Madssa, going over the orchards she had missed the day before, and
hearing all her father's plans for trading stock with Vonne.  Madeleine
appeared at lunch, thoughtful, subdued, and somewhat surprised that no
one was shocked or angry at her behavior the previous night.

After lunch, the younger gentlemen went shooting, warning the others
not to stray into the woods for their walks.  Barclay and Rothschild
ensconced themselves in the library to read the London papers, or to
nap under them.

After a few hours' sport, Tony had wandered off from the others, not
particularly interested in killing anything that day.  Besides, it was
clouding up, and sure to come on to rain within the hour.  He had
emerged from the wood lot in the late afternoon and was walking up the
drive when he encountered Rothschild's fast coach and team Coming down
it.  He heard a banging that seemed to indicate to the driver to halt,
and then Rothschild flung open the door.

"A word with you," he commanded.  Tony propped his shotgun against a
tree and got in, smiling affably.

"Are you leaving without your wife?"  Tony asked.

"I shall be back tomorrow.  No need to break up her pleasure over a
business matter.  Also, she might not like to "ride with the birds,"
Rothschild said, indicating the cage of pigeons on the floor.

"You really should not keep your horses standing," Tony advised.

"We will be a moment only.  A courier just arrived... from London."

"I see."

"So you have been playing a little game with me."

"I don't know what you mean," said Tony, staring innocently at the two
pairs of breeding pigeons at his feet.

"Your bird--my bird, I mean.  I should never have left Cohen in charge,
even for three days.  He acted on your message."  Tony's heart took up
a faster beat, but he tried to merely look amused.

"You made at least eighty thousand on that gambit."  "Quite right,"
Tony affirmed.

"You should not have left Cohen in charge."

"No.  I would have waited for confirmation."

"Yes.  I have heard about your courier system.  How did you receive the
news of Wellington's victory, by the way?  The birds?"

"Yes, but they can very seldom carry enough details, and they can, as
you have demonstrated, be hobbled.  They woke me when the pigeon came
in from here, the morning of the twentieth of June last year."

"Sands relayed the message from Vonne's bird, which was released near
Calais, to your bird, which flew to New Court, your home," Tony
recited.

"You have been busy."  Rothschild cocked one bushy red eyebrow at him.
"By the time I was dressed and at table, my courier had arrived with a
special edition of the Brussels Gazette."

"So you had a day and a half's advance warning, with confirmation.
Enough time to make your killing."

"Nonsense.  I went immediately to Castlereagh to tell him of the
victory."

"What did he say?"

"I never got to see him," Rothschild said angrily.  "His damned butler
would not let me in.  Me--Nathan Rothschild!"

"So Castlereagh didn't know."

"I left a message When he woke up, I assume, he went to the Foreign
Office with it."

"But did they believe it?  They could only have just heard about the
disaster at Quatre-Bras by then."  Rothschild shrugged.  "I did my
duty."  "But then what did you do?"  "Went to the stock exchange."

"Where you caused a panic by selling."

"No!  Only a fool would panic over a fluctuation of a point or two in
the middle of the day."

"But if you sold a million shares at seventy and bought a million at
sixty-eight you made two million--and you had many millions to play
with.  You did it all so quickly and neatly, it went almost
unnoticed."

"But I didn't sell!"

"Then a lot of others must have.  Why, I wonder?"

"I was angry.  I admit it.  But I never sold.  All I had to do was
stand by my pillar looking broken and gloomy, which indeed I felt after
so many sleepless nights worrying about Wellington.  Then, to be turned
away by a butler..."  "You--you actor"

Rothschild shrugged and smiled.  "I cannot help it if others took
fright."

"It was dangerous.  Official word of the victory could have come at any
moment."

"That was a guess, as to how much time I had."

"I almost admire you," Tony said in awe.

Rothschild dismissed this with an impatient gesture.  "It requires a
great deal of boldness and a great deal of caution to make a large
fortune.  Once you have got it, you require ten times as much wit to
keep it.  You have all those traits.  Work for me."

Tony looked on him with amazement.  "I thought you only hired
family?"

"Yes, and look where it has got me.  I shall have words for Cohen."

"But I do not want to amass a large fortune."

"Why not?  What else is there?"

"Oh, I mean to be comfortable, but there is much else I can do with my
time.  Making my wife happy leaps to mind, first of all, raising some
children second.  You have not been idle there yourself."

The faintest of smiles touched Rothschild's pendulous lips, and Tony
could picture him as an indulgent father, smiling at his children's
antics.

"Besides," Tony continued, "when you have a fortune, or even when
someone imagines you have a fortune, they are always wanting to take it
away from you."

"Yes, I know."

"How do you deal with that?"

"I make my clerks write those bloody checks."

"I didn't mean charities.  I mean someone who would be willing to kill
you for it."

A faint puzzlement showed in Rothschild's eyes.  "But that's absurd.
You don't carry it about in your pocket."

"Most definitely not.  At one point, I almost thought you--"

"Me?  I deal in shares and pounds--not lives.  Besides you are a very
small annoyance, believe me--almost an amusement."

"Why, thank you.  You say you only deal in pounds, not lives.  I am not
unmindful that your flow of gold to Wellington in Spain saved thousands
of British lives, or that your latest loan permitted us to beat
Napoleon this last time."

"I did it for the profit."

"Entirely?"

Once again there was a flicker deep in those shuttered eyes.  "I like
London.  Better than the Frankfurt ghetto where I come from.  Here
there is no shout of "Hepp!  Hepp!"  from heavy-booted youths.  There
are no pogroms,

at least not against the Jews.  Still ... I did it for the profit." 
"If you say so."

"Who is trying to kill you?"  Rothschild roused himself to ask.

"My cousin and heir, Winwood."

"That fool?  But he is like a brother to you."  "Clever disguise, was
it not?"  "At least you know your enemy."

"Yes, I have rid myself of Winwood easily enough.  No, I don't mean I
did him in," Tony said at Rothschild's arched eyebrow.

"Don't forget.  I could use you in the West Indies."

"Why the West Indies?"  Tony asked as he got out of the carriage.

"Some idea the government has of buying the slaves and freeing them. It
will take moving a lot of bullion."

"I'll give it some thought," Tony promised, as he waved to the
departing Rothschild.

Chadwick emerged from the stable block as Tony tramped back to the
house.  "Good news, I think," Chadwick said as he placed the letter in
Tony's hand.

Tony read out loud for Chadwick's benefit.  "Vespa safely docked.  You
own half the cargo.  Cohen livid."  "That was close, wasn't it?"
Chadwick said.

"Who would have thought the ship would be a week early?  If Cohen had
waited even half a day, it wouldn't have worked."

"That's all right, then."

"Yes, good work, Chadwick.  You were less than an hour behind
Rothschild's courier."

"There's another letter for you."

Tony walked toward the house reading this, then started laughing.  A
month ago, even a week ago, it would have seemed like terrible news to
him.  Now he was so happy, he didn't care about such trifles.

A light rain was beginning to fall as Tony went into the library to
find some writing paper and pen and ink.  After completing his
document, he went in search of Sera, but ran into Barclay in the
hall.

"Read this," Tony said, thrusting the cryptic message at him,
excitement gleaming in his eyes.

"You've done it, boy!  Put one over on Rothschild.  I never thought I
would see the day.  That explains why that courier's message set him so
on end.  He shot out of here so fast, he forgot his wife."

"He means to come back tomorrow, so you can gloat then, if you want.
Actually, he was mostly amused."

"But not over Cohen, I'll wager."

"No, I wouldn't want to be in that man's shoes.  Where is Sera?"

"She went to her room, I think.  Good job, Tony.  I knew you could do
it.  If you've a liking for this sort of thing, you can come in with
me."

"I hadn't thought it could be so exciting.  I'll consider it."

Sera was not in her room.  A movement in the dimness outside the window
caught his eye.  It was Sera's traveling cloak, making gamely for the
pigeon barn.  He rattled down the back stairs and sprinted after her
through the now driving rain.

"Tony!  What are you doing here?  You scared me half to death!"  Sera
said as Tony ascended the ladder.  "I might ask you the same thing." 
"I was looking for Sands."

"I could tell you guessed about the racing pigeons being used to carry
news.  I saw your face light up when the idea occurred to you."

"Truthfully, Tony, I don't see how it could have worked.  If they
always fly home, they would fly back here, not to New CoUrt in
London."

"But this place is only sixty miles from London, as the pigeon flies ma
fresh pigeon."

"Of course--a relay.  So Sands was in Rothschild's employ?"

"I fear so.  I may never be able to prove what happened, but I have
gotten back at Rothschild, after a fashion."

"Is that why Rothschild tore off like that?  It was very rode."

"He's not such a bad fellow, when you get to know him."

Sera looked so astounded, she made Toni laugh.  "How have you gotten
back at him?"

"I beat him at his own game.  I had Chadwick borrow one of Rothschild's
pigeons and release it this morning, with a message about a certain
trading venture, a sinking ship that hasn't really sunk."

"Tony, you deceived him."

"Well, I deceived his second in command.  Poor Cohen.  He acted on the
information before sending a courier to Rothschild."

"Oh, Tony!"  Sera flung herself on him and hugged him joyously.  "I'm
so proud of you.  I just hope he does not revenge himself on you."

"I don't think we have to worry about that.  I have employed his own
methods, and as you informed me, they are not illegal.  In fact, he
seemed to be highly amused by the whole thing.  He even offered me a
job."

"Tony, you don't mean to take it!"  Sera asked in shocked tones.

"Now who's being a snob?"

"It's not that.  I don't want you to become like Father,

always so caught up in business you have no time form" "For you?"

"But, Tony, no one will know of your victory."

"It doesn't matter.  You know.  Come back to the house now.  I have a
surprise for you."

Tony began to descend the ladder.  He almost wished Sera would fall
down it into his arms, as she had once done in the library.

"I should have trusted you more," Sera said as she climbed down after
him.  "I didn't make the connection between Lady Vonne and Rothschild
until very late."

"And I did not realize how he had made it work until you got Vonne
talking about his birds..  Vonne only talks about racing them.  I begin
to believe he really had no notion what was going on.  And they
probably used a half-dozen birds for each leg of the relay, just to
make sure one got through."

"Too bad we did not combine our knowledge.," Sera brushed a feather off
her cloak and followed him to the door of the building.  The rain was
coming down in sheets now, so that it looked almost like night.  The
house would barely have been visible, if not for the servants starting
to light candles.

"You were safer not knowing what I was up to.  At least I thought you
were safe.  I see now I was only fooling myself," Tony said.

"I do wish you would tell me things, even if they are not always
pleasant, instead of trying to shield me from them."

"Yes, you are fight about that."

"What is it?  Why are you smiling like that?"

"I just thought of a happy ending.  Come, it's starting to rain harder.
If we don't get back to the house now, we may be trapped here all
night."

Sera looked appraisingly at the cozy barn, but Tony pulled the hood of
her cloak up, grabbed her hand and sprinted with her toward the house,
much as they had fled from the thug in Saint James's.  They arrived at
the portico laughing.  They were still shaking the rain off Sera's
cloak, which Tony took from her, as Madeleine came out of the
conservatory with David in tow.

"Mother, they are tracking mud," David said, round-eyed.  "I--I'm never
allowed to track mud," he informed her, emphasizing the "I'm."

"It's all fight, dear.  They are guests."

"You are so fight, David," Sera agreed, as Tony and she belatedly wiped
their feet.

"I'm sorry about the other night," Madeleine said with an effort.  "Too
much champagne with dinner."

"I know what that can be like," Tony said generously.  Madeleine looked
at Sera, who gave her head a slight shake.  Madeleine realized that
Sera had not told Tony how she had lied to him and Vonne.  Then Sera
must not have told Vonne, either.

"I'm sorry I slapped you," Sera said, to break the silence.

"You what?"  Tony asked, looking at Sera in surprise.

"That's all fight.  It seems to have cleared my head.  Come, David.
Where do you keep these kittens of yours?"

"In the kitchen.  Mother, can I be a guest and track mud?"

"No, not when you are a guest in someone else's house,

but you may track mud here anytime you please."  "Tomorrow?"  he asked
as she led him off.

"Yes, tomorrow.  We may both track mud tomorrow."

Tony chuckled, but was surprised when he turned to Sera to find her
almost on the point of tears.

"What is it?"

"Just hungry, I expect.  We had better put on dry clothes."

He went to his room and she to hers, where she took herself roundly to
task for coveting David.  She got a lump in her throat every time she
came near a child, now that she wanted one so desperately. Fortunately,
the raindrops hid the tears from Marie.

Sera stripped and threw on a dressing gown, then sent Marie away so
that she could have a good cry while her hair dried.  By the time Tony
knocked and came into her room, similarly attired, she was very much in
control of herself again.

"I almost hate to tell you this..."  said Tony, consulting a letter he
held.

"Oh, the post came."

"Yes, and you may have to pack all your books again."  "Oh, Tony," she
said, dropping her towel.  "We have not lost the house off Horseferry
Road, have we?  I have been more than a little happy there."

"Only a little happy?  I hope I can do better than that in future.  We
Will be moving back into Cairnbrooke House next year.  I had meant it
to be a surprise, but my hand has been forced."

"Oh, Tony, can we afford it?  "Yes, we can now."  "And may I--"

"Fix up a library for yours elm Of course."

"May I get a globe, a large one?"

"I should like to give you the world."  "Still, I liked that house."
"You can visit Mother there."

"You don't mean to make her live there alone?"  "No, Travesian will be
with her."

Sera's eyes grew round.  "Don't tell me they have eloped?"  she said in
shocked accents snatching the letter from Tony.

"It's from Mother, and she seems quite firm in her resolve to wed
him."

"Armand, what a coward you are, letting Lady Amanda do the dirty work!"
Sera said to the letter.  "Tony, you're not even angry."

"I'm not blind, either.  I half expected something like this.  I was
thinking the house would make a nice wedding present, so convenient to
the theater, and all."

"Tony, you are wonderful!  But why are we so vastly wealthy all of a
sudden?"

"Because of the other letter, informing me of my successful venture.
And for you, my dear, a check."

"A check?  What for?"

"It's all the money of yours I used to get out of debt and establish
myself in the funds again," he said proudly.  "You don't own me
anymore."

"Do you mean you are divorcing me?"  she asked, terrified.

"Is that what you want?"  he teased.

"No!  I guessed something of what you felt, but I didn't know it went
this deep," she said, staring at the check.  "So you made your fortune
duping Rothschild."

"Not all of it.  I worked hard for some of it--playing cards."

"That's why you play every night!"

"Why did you think I did it?"

"You know very well what I thought!  You were trying to avoid me.  Oh,
Tony, you hate to play cards!"  Sera almost wept for all the lost
nights.

"And I shall never play again, now that this is over."

"What should I do with this?"  she asked, indicating the check.

"I don't care.  Finance a play with it.  Leave it to your children," he
taunted.

"Children?  What children?"  Sera demanded as Tony walked back into his
room, laughing.

He locked the hall door, drew the curtains and pulled back the bed
covers, fully intending to provide Sera with the beginnings of a family
that day, if he could manage it.  He could hear her throwing books
around and mumbling, ranting herself into a becoming rage.  He put out
the candle in his room, but before he could turn to go into Sera's room
he heard the door open and close.  There was nothing but darkness.

"You might have shown a little more trust," a low voice said.

"Encrier--you blackguard!"  Tony said dramatically.  "I had convinced
myself she didn't care about you."

"She doesn't.  Sera is in love with you.  I already told you that."

"Stop moving about.  Are you carrying a pistol or a sword?  What shall
I expect?"  Tony asked, chuckling to himself.

"My only weapon is my pen.  Do you remember those poems you tried to
burn?"

"Sera told you about that?"  He thought he sounded appropriately
shocked.

"Sera tells me everything.  Those poems were not about her.  They were
about you.  She could never tell you how much she loved you to your
face, so she wrote about it."

"That was my fault," Tony said regretfully.  "I should have confided in
her, but I thought she was like other women."

"You are a fool to think all women as selfish and helpless as
Madeleine."

Tony saw the light under the hall door interrupted by a figure passing
before it, and lunged, carrying Sera up against the door and pressing
into her softness.  "Tony, stop: It's me," she whispered
breathlessly.

"Sera?"  he asked, fully aware he was grasping his wife.  "Where is
Encrier?"

"He isn't real," Sera said in her own voice.  "That's what I was going
to tell you the night you burned my poems.  He isn't even real."

"But he's here in this house," Tony said, dragging her to the table as
he struck a light.  He made a great show of peering into the corners of
the room, then carried the candle into Sera's darkened bedroom.

Sera followed him.  "Satisfied?"  she asked, in the playwright's voice.
Tony made a good job of gaping at her, then dragged her back into his
room and closed the door.

"You only talked to him twice before this week," said.  "His voice in
the garden was different.  Remembe said, "Your wife has the misfortune
to be hopelessly in with only you.""

The words echoed in Tony's mind, and the sadness which they were said.
"But I saw you together," he tested weakly, beginning to weary of the
game, out of passion and a growing desire for her.

"You saw an actor hired to play Encrier.  I won't tell the fellow's
real name.  After this weekend, he may be being a little shy."

"But why?  Why this imposture?"  Tony hoped she would finally confide
in him.

"Had you been applying your surprisingly intelligent mind to this problem,
rather than that of the racing pigeons you would have realized by now
my interest in the th goes beyond that of a dilettante, or even a
patroness.  Encrier," she said proudly.

"You wrote The Count?"  Tony asked dramatically.  "And most of Lady
Mellefieur's Boudoir."  "I'm--I'm..."  Tony did a convincing bit of out
rag "You're shocked," Sera supplied.

"Well, yes," he said playfully, pulling the belt ol gown loose.

"That I was capable of it, or that I dared to do it?"  asked, watching
with fascination as he ran a hand ore: breasts and down her length to
come up between her thi She almost fainted from the excitement of it.

"I have always been amazed by what you can do, why take the risk?  You
didn't need the money."

"It's a good thing, too," she said in a daze as he pulled the dressing
gown off her shoulders.  She dropped her and let it fall to the floor. 
"The theater does not pa that well.  It was something to do with my tim
challenge."

"Do you mean to continue?"  Tony asked, half afraid what her answer
would be.  He discarded his own dressing gown and stood beside her,
naked and unashamed.  She looked at him in amazement.

"Not if you don't wish it," Sera said hopefully, as he kissed his way
down her naked front.

"After what I put you through, I'm surprised you even care what I
wish," he mumbled between kisses.  She staggered against him, feeling
his enlarged member pulsing between their stomachs.  Tony reached
around her and kneaded her buttocks, spreading her cheeks.  He slid
down and brought his member up between her thighs to tease her a little
more..  She gasped.

"Now I have shocked you," he said proudly.

"I have read about it," she whispered bravely.

"I think you will find that this is one subject where reading about it
is not nearly, as good as the real thing."  "That's what I had
hoped."

"And if you want to keep writing, then that's what I want, too.  And I
promise I won't interfere."

"And not get yourself shot at anymore?"  she asked desperately.

"That, too.  You have all my love, Sera.  What's more, you have my
respect."

Those were exactly the lines Sera had always imagined Tony saying to
her.

"I must warn you that it usually hurts the first time."

"Perhaps not.  That membrane was broken when I was ten.  I did take a
crashing fall off a horse once."

Tony picked her up and carded her to the bed.  "You must have been
terrified," he said in true compassion as he laid her down.

"I thought the blood meant I was dying, and I was afraid to tell
anyone, because I thought they might get rid of my horse.  It hurt
terribly for days.  Then I got a book and read about it and realized
what a fool I had been to be afraid."

"To have to face that with no mother to explain it to you... But that
is what you are like.  At least it means I won't hurt you."

He slid inside her and played about in her until he knew by her moans
and internal spasms that she had achieved something entirely new in her
life.  Then he planted his seed, their child, and slid out to lie
beside her and stroke her until her heart stopped racing.  Another man
might have felt cheated, might even-have doubted her word, but not
Tony.  Between the two of them no suspicion or doubt could ever exist
again.  He had given her the last thing a man ever gives a woman, even
his wife--his respect and trust.  "My little inkwell," he said as he
caressed her.

Sera sighed.  Tony buried his hands in her long, ropy tresses and
kissed his way up and down her body again.

"How do you know what Encrier means in English?"  she asked
distractedly.

"I looked it up," he said, finally lying back against the pillows in
exhaustion.

"But why would you?"  Sera asked, getting up on one elbow to run her
eyes over her husband again.  The rain had slacked off, and there was a
faint light peeking between the curtains now.  "Tony!  You knew all
along it was me!"

She got up, slightly angry at him for deceiving her, and washed
herself.  Before she could think what she meant to do, he was there
beside her, warm and enfolding.

"Come back to bed.  I didn't know for the longest time, not even after
I heard you rehearsing with Brel."

She let him pull her into bed and tuck the covers up around them, and
she decided not to let his trick spoil their first real day as man and
wife.  "I must have used my stage voice."

"I recognized it from the Agora."

"I was afraid you guessed I filled in for Brel, but you never said
anything."

"You promised you wouldn't do it again."  He had his arms around her
now.

"Why didn't you stop me?"  she asked, luxuriating in the contrast
between the cool sheets and his warm body.

"I did think to stop you at first, but once I realized that you were
Encrier, I decided you must know your own business."

"That's why I stayed out of your affair with Rothschild.

I thought you must know what you were about."

"I will never keep anything from you again."

"Neither will I."  His kisses were as she remembered them from their
first meeting, full of giving and promise.