"Marius, you are hurt!" she said, her voice shaking uncontrollably, and she rushed to him, hurled herself into his arms, and burst into tears against his shoulder.

One arm came around her. The other hand cupped the back of her head and held it against him. "It's all over now, Henry," he murmured soothingly. "You are safe, my love.''

All else was forgotten for a couple of minutes as Henry let herself sag against him, allowing all the firm warmth of him to penetrate her exhausted limbs. She felt the truth of his words. Nothing could ever threaten her again now that Marius was here.

Finally outside noises began to penetrate her consciousness and she pushed herself wearily away, aware again that nothing had changed except that she was free of Oliver Cranshawe and that apparently all the world knew about her indiscretion.

"What the devil is going on here?" a new voice was demanding crossly. "Are you all mad? Am I master here or am I not?"

"I say," said Giles admiringly, "is this your handiwork, your Grace? How splendid!"

"Not entirely," Eversleigh replied modestly. "The eye is Henry's work."

"I say!"

"You should have seen it, Giles," Penelope shrieked. "He must have a broken jaw. I could hear the bone cracking way over there."

"Henrietta, what is going on here?" Peter demanded in. fury.

"It is quite a long story," she replied. "Could I tell you at the house, Peter?"

Cranshawe was beginning to stir on the ground. Eversleigh, carefully rebuttoning his cuffs and smoothing the lace over his hands, stood over him until he opened his eyes.

"I shall be returning to London tomorrow, Oliver," he said gently. "When I get there, I would wish you to be gone. I would advise you to remain outside the city for at least one year. If I encounter you within that time, or if after that time you I so much as let your eyes alight on my wife, I shall engineer a quarrel in which, for honor's sake, you will be forced to call me out. That will give me the choice of weapons, and I shall choose swords. I trust I make myself clear?"

Cranshawe gingerly fingered a split lip and moaned something unintelligible.

"Quite so, dear boy," his cousin replied, and turned away to put on his coat.

"Are we just going to leave him here, your Grace?" Ridley asked doubtfully.

"This is Sir Peter Tallant's property," Eversleigh pointed out coolly. "If he wishes to extend his hospitality, it is no concern of mine. But I would suggest that Mr. Cranshawe be allowed to recover here in quiet and take himself off to the nearest inn when he feels ready to travel. He may save his pride there, if he wishes, by saying that he has been set upon by highwaymen."

Sir Peter was not eager to offer hospitality to a rake of Cranshawe's reputation. Thus, Eversleigh's advice was followed, and the party returned to the house, Penelope riding with Eversleigh, Philip with Giles, and Miss Manford, blushing and protesting, with Mr. Ridley.

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Two hours later, the company dispersed to their several rooms, hastily prepared by the housekeeper. They had partaken of an equally quickly thrown-together meal, and had relived over and over again the events of the previous few days. Finally even the twins had no more to say. Oscar's colorful comments had been cut off by the pink blanket an hour before.

"I wish to talk to Henry alone for a while, Tallant," Eversleigh said, explaining why he was not preparing to leave the drawing room with everyone else.

Henry sat down again, and soon they were alone. She kept her eyes on the carpet beneath her feet.

Eversleigh regarded his wife in silence for a while.

"Well, Henry," he said finally.

She kept her eyes lowered. "It was you who paid the moneylender, was it not?" she said. "And redeemed my ring?"

"Yes, Henry," he admitted, "and I am sorry for the misunderstanding. It did not occur to me that you would think my note came from Cranshawe."

She did not reply.

"Will you come back home with me?" he asked. "Or are you serious in your intention to leave me?"

"I shall stay here, Marius," she said quietly.

"Might I ask why, Henry?" His voice was very gentle.

She hesitated. I just wish it that way," she said. "I have not been happy."

"I see," he said. "Henry, please, do one thing for me. Keep my name and allow me to care for you. I shall not force you to live with me or see me, but please, let me keep you in the sort of life that you are accustomed to. Don't disappear from my life. When you meet the man you will love, I shall divorce you so that you can marry him. And I shall see to it that you are not ostracized from society. I have considerable influence, you know."

"Yes, I know," she said, "but I shall not want to remarry, ever.

"Then remain as my duchess," he said, "wherever you wish to live."

"But you will need to marry again," she said. "You will want a son."

"No," he replied.

They lapsed into silence.

"I shall leave in the morning, early," Eversleigh said at last. "You need not see me again. I shall send Ridley down in a few days to make whatever settlement you decide upon.".

"Perhaps," she said dully.

"And do not worry about Miss Manford," he continued. I shall see her well settled. I believe she would be happier in retirement. I shall have my bailiff find her a suitable cottage on my estate in Kent. She will have a comfortable pension."

"Thank you," she whispered. "You are very kind."

"Come, my love, he said, rising to his feet and extending a hand to her. "I shall see you to your room."

"Thank you," she said.

They walked in silence up the broad staircase of Roedean and to the door of Henry's room. There Eversleigh took her hand in his, bent, and kissed it.

"Good-bye, Henry," he said. "You are young. You will forget this episode soon and be happy again as you were when I met you. I am sorry that I have saddened you, my love.''

He turned and entered his own room, which was directly across from hers. He closed the door softly behind him without looking back.

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Henry had been sitting in the window seat of her darkened room for over an hour. She had undressed but had not gone to bed. She knew she would not sleep, and she hated to toss and turn in bed.

How would she bear the pain? It was ten times worse than it had been three days before when she had taken a silent farewell of Marius. There he had not known. He had not been so sweetly and so sadly noble. He had not just fought for her honor. He had acted today as if he really cared.

Was it possible that he did care, just a little bit? He had come tearing down from London on horseback, without any luggage at all-he had had to borrow a nightshirt from Peter. He had punched Oliver far more than was necessary merely to bring him to the ground. He had held her and soothed her afterward as if her safety were really important to him. He had begged her tonight to let him care for her, although her refusal to go home with him had offered him the perfect excuse for washing his hands of her. He had offered her her freedom while disclaiming any wish to be free himself. Could something of their marriage be salvaged? Could she possibly oust Suzanne Broughton from his affections, make him forget how and why he had chosen her as his bride?

Henry leapt to her feet. What was she doing, planning to stay at Roedean, allowing Marius to return to London and his mistress? If she could get up nerve enough this afternoon to almost shoot Oliver Cranshawe and to punch him in the face, did she not have the courage to fight a mere woman for her husband's love?

Before her resolve could cool, Henry quickly let herself out of her room, crossed the hall, and opened the door to her husband's room. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She stood with her back against it for a moment, letting her eyes get used to the deeper gloom of this chamber.