"Indeed, my love, I feel most vexed that I am not on foot today. I should enjoy riding up beside you," Eversleigh said languidly. "That is a most fetching bonnet. Is it new?"

"Yes, it is," she replied airily, "and since I must wear a bonnet, I determine to buy any that take my fancy."

"Quite so," he agreed. "I believe it was a milliner's bill that almost gave James an apoplexy this morning." Henry dimpled. "But I must say, my love, that this one was worth every penny. There was hardly a male head in the main avenue that did not turn in admiration, or a female one that did not turn in envy."

"You are funning me, Marius," she said, giggling. "But I did not see you.'

"No," he agreed dryly, "a mere husband has small chance of making his presence felt in such a crush of admirers."

"Absurd!" she said, laughing, the embarrassment of a few minutes before forgotten. "Are you riding my way, your Grace?"

"No, I am not," he replied. "I have a call that must be made before I return home. I shall see you later, my love."

"Good-bye,. Marius," she said, and gave her grays the signal to start.

Eversleigh, watching her go before turning his horse in the opposite direction, had a still, brooding look on his face.

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Henry contrived to be alone in the downstairs salon by eleven o'clock the next morning. It had not been easy. Marius had lingered in the office of his secretary until just half an hour before. Henry had considered all manner of ideas for persuading him to leave the house. Fortunately, none was necessary, though she was all but hopping up and down with vexation when he took what seemed a lingering farewell of her in her room.

"You did not ride this morning, my love? Or yesterday morning either?"

"No, I did not feel like the exercise," she replied.

"What, Henry, are you becoming too ladylike for such pursuits?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Pooh!" she replied scornfully. "What could be more ladylike than mincing along at a sober trot in a sidesaddle?"

"Ah, I forget," he said gently, "it is neck or nothing for you, is it not, my love?"

She smiled. "I must not keep you, Marius," she said, rising purposefully from the stool before her dressing-table mirror. "You must be anxious to be on your way."

"Must I?" he answered meekly. "I did wish to speak with you, Henry, but it can wait until later if you are in such a dreadful hurry."

"I must check the schoolroom," she declared firmly, and make sure that Oscar is securely in his cage again. I would not want him escaping anymore."

"No, indeed," he agreed. "I might have trouble finding a chef in England willing to work here if that worthy bird finds his way to the kitchen and asks them all what the stink is."

She giggled. "The poor man was furious, was he not? I must go up, Marius."

"Yes, I see you must," he replied. "And I see that I must be going. I shall talk with you later, my love."

Henry really did go up to the schoolroom, mainly to ensure that Miss Manford and the twins were safely occupied. They were, and Oscar, in disgrace, was reposing fairly quietly beneath his pink blanket.

Cranshawe arrived promptly. Henry was standing tensely, her back to the fireplace, when the butler announced him. He strode across the room to her, looking handsome and purposeful, she noted. He took her cold hand in his and raised it to his lips.

"Good morning, Henry," he greeted her, his charming smile muted by a warm sympathy. "I came as soon as I could, for I knew you would be anxious to be done with this business and to set your brother's mind at ease."

"You are very good, Oliver," she said, turning quite pale. "I shall repay the money as soon as I " may. But I do not know how I shall ever repay, your kindness.

"Do not give it a moment's thought, my dear," he said with tender solicitation. "Here, take this packet and let us not mention the matter again." He removed a long package from inside his coat and handed it to her.

Henry took it with obvious embarrassment and reluctance.

"Now," he said, clasping his hands behind him and smiling much more dazzlingly at her, "may I beg the honor of a waltz with you at the Sefton ball tonight, Henry? It will be a feather in my cap to be seen with the loveliest lady there."

"I do not like it when you say silly things like that," she said roundly. "But of course I shall dance with you. The second waltz? Felix Hendricks has already asked me for the first."

"Then I must be contented with the second," he decided, bowing gracefully.

They talked on general matters for several more minutes, but Cranshawe, always sensitive to her feelings, realized that she was uneasy with the package of money still clasped in her hand, and soon took his leave.

"Until this evening," he said, smiling warmly into her eyes and raising her hand to his lips again.

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While Henry hastened upstairs to the drawing room to write a brief note to Giles, asking him to call on her during the afternoon, Oliver Cranshawe was on his way to Suzanne Broughton's house. She received him in her dressing room, where her maid was still coaxing her piled-up hair into numerous curls and ringlets.

"You choose strange hours in which to call, Oliver," she remonstrated as he was shown into the room. "Can't you wait until a more civilized time in the afternoon?"

"I thought you would wish to hear this news immediately, Suzanne, he replied, flashing her a wide smile in the mirror. "The butterfly has been netted, I believe."

Her eyes stilled on his reflected image. "Is that so?" she said. "Miriam, you may leave. That will be all for now." She waited until her maid had left the room and closed the door behind her before swiveling on the stool and facing her visitor. "Well, Oliver?"

He smiled and sank gracefully into a chair. "The little duchess is fortunate enough to have a brother who likes to gamble and who does not have the means with which to do it," he began.

She smiled slowly. "Fortunate for whom, Oliver? And you, out of the goodness of your heart, have prevented his ruin, I suppose?"

"Of course." He bowed. "How could I bear to see her

Grace, the freckle-nosed duchess, in distress? You know that I am all heart, Suzanne." He proceeded to tell her all that had transpired between Henry and him in the last day.

Her smile had broadened by the time he finished. "So now you have the silly little chit in your power! What do you mean to do with her, pray?"

He flashed his teeth at her. "It is not for you to know, Suzanne," he said, "but you can rest assured that I shall have some personal amusement while getting my revenge on Eversleigh."

I almost feel sorry for the girl," Suzanne commented with a trilling laugh.

"Do not," he said. "Believe me, Suzanne, I know how to pleasure a woman. In all likelihood, she will not even realize that she is being deliberately ruined. It would be double revenge, would it not, if the little Henrietta were to fall in love with me in earnest?" There was something cold, almost cruel in the smile with which he regarded Suzanne.

"You are the devil, Oliver!" his companion replied. "I do hope that Marius suffers-before he returns to me. Perhaps I shall reject him. That would be most satisfying." She turned her back to examine herself in the mirror.

Cranshawe rose to his feet. "It would be in your own interest, my dear, to be seen with Marius as often as possible in the near future, especially when his wife is visible."

She smiled. "Poison in the ear, Oliver?"

"You may depend upon it!" he assured her. "In fact, I have already begun."

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