"I don't like doing that," she said decisively. "Please go away.

He sighed again and seated himself on the edge of the bed. "Henry," he asked, "has anyone-any woman-explained to you what marriage is all about?"

"There is nothing to know," she said. "I have taken your name and I have promised to honor and obey you. Marian wanted to talk to me this morning, but I told her she really need not bother. She had to go away in the end."

"Your mother died when you were quite young, did she not, my love?" he asked.

"Yes. I was seven when the twins were born."

"And you have lived at Roedean ever since?"

"Until a few weeks ago, yes."

"So really you know nothing of marriage, do you?"

Henry looked doubtful. "I know you will want heirs, your Grace," she said. "And I shall be quite willing to.perform that duty."

"Shall you?" He watched her for a long moment. "Do you know how, er, heirs are born, Henry?"

"Oh, yes," she replied eagerly. "I watched Majorca have a foal once. She was one of Papa's horses. I was not supposed to be there, but Giles and I had given Miss Manford the slip. The groom told us that human babies are born the same way. They come out…" She flushed and stopped as she made eye contact with her husband. "Well, you know," she finished lamely.

"Yes, I know, my love," he said softly. "But do you know how the heir-or the foal-is created, Henry?" -

She flushed a deeper red. She did not know, though the question had bothered her for several years. She found it such a frightening question, in fact, that she had always resolutely blocked it from her consciousness.

"I not," he said when she did not answer. He got to his feet and walked around the bed toward her. She shrank against the bedpost. "No, don't be afraid, Henry," he said. "I am not about to start kissing you again, since you seem to find the exercise so unpleasant. But you must learn, my love, that there is a great deal more to marriage and to producing heirs than just kissing."

He took her chin in his hand and lifted it firmly until she looked wide-eyed at him. "We shall be in Paris and London until the end of July," he said. "Mingle with society, my love, and keep your eyes and ears open. At the end of that time we shall go down to Kent. My principal estate and favorite home is there. And there you will become my wife, Henry." His blue eyes lingered on her mouth and he pressed his thumb lightly along her lips. "The strain of being a frustrated husband might ruin my constitution between now and then," he added dryly. "You will never know what a heroic feat I have performed tonight, Henry."

He turned and walked unhurriedly back to the dressing-room door.

"Good night, my love," he said.

"Good night, your Grace."

He turned. "Henry, are you going to be your-Graceing me for the next fifty years?" he asked in a pained voice.

"No, your Grace."

"My name is Marius," he said.

"Yes, your Grace."

**********************************************************************************

The next two weeks were surprisingly happy ones for Henry. The Channel crossing bothered her not at all, although the sea was decidedly choppy on the way across. While other ladies retired to their cabins armed with vinaigrettes, handkerchiefs, basins, and maids, Henry stayed on deck with her husband and watched eagerly for her first glimpse of the French coast. When she took off her bonnet and shook her curls into the wind, Eversleigh looked as if he might say something at first, but he merely closed his lips and resumed his study of the white-capped breakers. Henry noticed the gleam in his eyes before he did so. (At the end of the two weeks, she had decided that it was definitely a sign that he was amused. He never showed any other sign.) But when she twined the ribbons around her hand and twirled the bonnet absently while her hands were extended across the guardrail over the water, he did intervene.

"Henry, my love," he said reproachfully, "it is a remarkably handsome bonnet and I should hate to see it end up in the water. But the worst of it is, you see, that if it did fall overboard, I might feel compelled to be heroic and dive in after it. And I should hate that even more, I assure you."

Henry giggled. "You are absurd sometimes, your Grace," she said, pulling her hand back in over the rail.

"Henry!"

"Oh, I mean Marius, I suppose, though I feel very strange saying so," she said candidly. "You are really a very imposing figure, you know, your Gr-Marius. One would feel much more comfortable using your title." She grinned impishly up at him.

"Hmm," was his only reply as he gave her a sidelong glance.

In France, they traveled to Paris, arriving there on the second day. Eversleigh seemed to derive considerable amusement from showing his wife all the famous sites, accompanying her to various entertainments, and introducing her to many prominent people who lived there.

"Have you noticed, Marius," she asked on one occasion, that the English tend to feel that if they talk loudly enough, the French will understand them? As if talking

French were an affliction of the deaf? Yet the French seem not to do it to the English."

"Sometimes you are uncomfortably observant, Henry, lie said. "I shall have to be sure to whisper the next time I address a Frenchman, if you are close by."

She chuckled. "You have no need to either shout or whisper, Marius," she said. "Your French is quite fluent. At least, it sounds fluent." He inclined his head. "I wish I had paid Manny more mind when she tried to get us to converse in French, she added with a sigh.

Henry grew to feel comfortable with Eversleigh. He appeared to be remarkably open-minded and indulgent. And generous. She soon learned that she had only to admire a dress or a bonnet or piece of jewelry, and it was hers. She found herself clamping her mouth shut on several occasions when she was about to express a liking for something. She did not want her husband to think that she was interested only in his money. Indeed, possessions had never been of much significance to her, unless the possession were a horse, perhaps.

On only one occasion did they come close to quarreling. They were strolling along a fashionable promenade one afternoon, the sun beating down pleasantly on their heads. Henry took off her bonnet and turned up her face to the sun with a sigh of contentment.

"Put your bonnet on, Henry," Eversleigh said immediately, "before this plump matron walking toward us sees you and has a seizure."

"No," she replied, I wish to feel the sun on my face and my hair."

"I was not offering you a choice, my love," he said quietly, and he stepped in front of her, took the bonnet from her nerveless fingers, and put it back on her head. It was only when his fingers began to tie the bow beneath her chin that she recovered from her momentary shock.

"Marius," she said, grasping his wrists, her eyes flashing dangerously, "I choose to walk bareheaded. Is that so terrible? Are you afraid of what people will say?"

"My wife will behave with propriety in public," he replied calmly. "Now, shall I tie this bow or will you?"

"You said nothing when we were on the ship," she said, still clinging to his wrists.

"There were no other ladies present to be scandalized," he explained, "and no other gentlemen close by. It seemed reasonable to allow you to please yourself "

."Well, I choose to please myself now," she retorted with a toss of her head that was meant to jerk the ribbons free of his hands.

"Very well, my love," he said meekly. He relinquished the ribbons of her bonnet and stepped to her side again. "Allow me to escort you back to our rooms. You will, of course, remain there until I am ready to take you back to England."

Henry stared at him openmouthed. "Well!" she exclaimed at last. When he continued to stand at her side, arm extended to her, she said, "Well!" again, tied the bow under her chin with a flourish, took his arm, and walked with him, chin high in the air, a cold haughtiness in her manner.