"It was all my fault," Giles said gloomily. "I'm the one who gambled myself into debt. Henry wormed it out of me. Said she had enough money to pay it off for me. The little widgeon. And I believed her." He snatched the nightcap off his auburn curls and slammed it down on the bed.

"Oh, I say," Philip commented, "you're lucky Papa is not alive, Giles. You would have got a whipping for sure."

"And would have deserved it, too," Giles admitted. "And you say Cranshawe has been threatening her? I'll call him out over this. Hand me my clothes, Phil."

"You haven't heard the worst of it yet," Philip warned.

"Eh?"

"She went to a moneylender yesterday," Philip said. "I followed her."

"She what?" Giles blanched. "Why would the little sapskull do a thing like that?"

"Manny and Pen and I guess that things got too hot for her with the teeth, and she went for the money to pay him back."

Giles groaned and clutched his head. "Oh, Henry, Henry!" was all he could say for a while.

"What are we going to do, Giles?" Philip asked. "Pen and I thought you might have some ideas."

Giles groaned again. "Let me think about it, Phil," he said. "I'll come up with something." Philip got up to leave. "But, Phil," he added, catching his brother by the sleeve, "keep on doing what you have been doing. Keep an eye on Henry, will you?"

Sitting in his chair now at White's, Giles was no nearer finding a solution than he had been while reclining in his bed at home. His first impulse had been to go to Eversleigh should have done at the start. He could have asked hi brother-in-law for a loan. He did not think the duke would have refused. It would have been humiliating to have to go to him when Eversleigh had already taken on so man of the family burdens with his marriage to Henry. But he deserved the shame; he had behaved with terrible irresponsibility, getting himself sent down from university and then gambling away money that he did not possess.

But how could he go to Eversleigh now? It was Henry's secrets more than his, own that he would be revealing. And she must have been more than reluctant to turn to her husband if she had gone to a moneylender rather than appeal to him. Poor Henry! He could not betray her now-

There seemed to be only one other solution. Giles would have to go himself to a moneylender and borrow the money with which his sister could repay both her debt and the interest that would have already accumulated. But it was a mad idea! Not only did he have no prospect of ever being able to repay the debt, but by acting in such a way, he would belittle the sacrifice that Henry had made for his sake.

While he was still wrestling with this problem, Giles was interrupted.

"Ah, here you are, Giles," said the Duke of Eversleigh. "This is the last room in the club I have thought of looking in. Are you acquiring studious habits in your rustication, dear boy?"

"Y-you were looking oking for me, your Grace?" stammered Giles, lowering his paper and staring aghast into the face of his brother-in-law. This was the last person he wished to see just now.

"I was merely looking for a luncheon companion, Eversleigh explained. "It is tedious to eat alone, you know. Nothing to think about except the food."

"Oh, yes, much obliged to you," Giles lied, getting to his feet and wondering what Eversleigh was up to. He was a very popular figure in the club. He could attract any table companion he cared to choose.

Fifteen minutes later, the two men were cutting into large platters of veal and vegetables.

"So, dear boy," Eversleigh said, abandoning the small talk that had occupied them thus far, "what have you found to amuse you in town?"

"Oh," said Giles evasively, "this and that."

"Ah. Parties?"

"Yes, some."

"The races?"

"Not often, your Grace."

"The muslin company?"

"Er, not too often." Giles was feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

"Cards?"

There was a pause. "Not any longer," Giles said finally.

"Ah," said the duke. "Excellent veal, is it not?"

"Eversleigh, what is the purpose of this interrogation?" Giles asked, putting down his knife and fork with hands that shook slightly and looking defiantly at his companion.

"Interrogation, dear boy?" Eversleigh replied, his sleepy eyes widening for a moment. "But I suppose you are right. Tell me, Giles, has my wife been paying your debts?"

"I… She…" Giles had paled again.

"You need not be afraid to speak out," Eversleigh said gently. "I wish to protect Henry as much as I assume you do."

"She seems uncommon afraid of you, sir," Giles said doubtfully.

Eversleigh considered. "I think not," he said. "I believe Henry is afraid only of herself. It irks her to know that she is a woman and might at times need to depend on a man."

Giles laughed shakily. "You do know her rather well, your Grace," he said with respect.

Eversleigh regarded his brother-in-law steadily. "Of course," he said. I happen to love her, you see. Now, tell me what you know, dear boy. I suspect that she has got herself into quite a mess."

Giles judged it expedient to tell Eversleigh everything Philip had told him that morning.

"A moneylender," Eversleigh mused. "Do you happen to know which one?"

"I suspect the one that I planned to go to," Giles guessed. "I believe I mentioned his name to her. Phil would be able to take you to the place."

"I prefer to leave the two amateur Bow Street runners out of this," Eversleigh said dryly. "And quite soon I am going to have to reintroduce those two to the schoolroom."

"What are you planning to do about Henry?" asked Giles.

Eversleigh favored him with a sleepy stare. "Don't worry your head about it, dear fellow," he said. "Your sister will be safe in my care, I assure you."

"Yes, I am sure she will be," Giles agreed. "It was the best day's work Doug Raeburn ever did when he trapped her into that wager.'

Eversleigh's eyebrows rose. "Wager?" he repeated.

Giles gave him a long look, then dropped his eyes to his plate. "Oh," he said, "she did not tell you."

"Suppose you tell me, Giles," said Eversleigh, "so that I can know if the incident merely slipped my mind."

"Oh, I say," said Giles, "perhaps she don't want you to know. "

The duke continued to stare at him disconcertingly through half-closed lids.

"It was just a piece of nonsense," Giles blurted at last, "Henry did not want to have a Season and she didn't want a husband. Then Doug Raeburn, our neighbor, you know, got her mad and wagered that she could not get an offer, by a certain date-I can't remember what-from a man he would name. We decided on you." He laughed in some embarrassment. "She won the wager."

"Yes, indeed," Eversleigh agreed softly, "and a certain high-perch phaeton, I believe? And you were quite right, dear boy. She had not told me."

Giles toyed with his food for several more uncomfortable, silent minutes.

Miss Manford had her promised talk with James Ridley also during the luncheon hour. She was surprised that much of what she had to say was not news to him. She was even more surprised to find that his source of information had been the Duke of Eversleigh himself. Ridley did show concern, though, over the news that Henry had been seen to visit a moneylender in an undesirable area of London.

"The duke feared as much," he observed. "I must tell him, Eugenia, as soon as he returns home." -

"Oh, please do not," she pleaded, hands clasped over her bosom. I fear the dear duchess will be in grave trouble if his Grace learns that she has been that indiscreet. Indeed, James, I should never forgive myself if I were the cause of bringing her into disgrace."

"You do not understand, my dear," her companion replied. "The duke seems genuinely concerned for her welfare. I believe he would be very relieved to know how he may rescue her from her difficulties."