The young Duke needed him, his "poor old mother in Killarney" would die of starvation and heartbreak…

"Oh, do stop it," Marianne exclaimed. "Stand up and act like a man instead of a baby, and perhaps…"

Victor's sobs cut off. His tears had been genuine enough; his face was drenched, and when he wiped at his eyes with his dusty hands, trails of mud ran down his cheeks.

"Is it granting me mercy you are?"

"Well…" Seeing his eyes again overflow and his lips tremble, Marianne said disgustedly, "I will say nothing of this so long as there is no repetition of it. Only keep away from me in future."

She left him still on his knees babbling protestations of undying but respectful gratitude.

Ludicrous as the performance had been, Marianne had no impulse to laugh. She had been thoroughly repelled, and when, on reaching her own room, she saw that the sleeve of her dress bore the marks of the tutor's dirty hand, she stripped it off so quickly she burst half the buttons.

It was later than she had thought. She was still scrubbing vigorously at her face and arms when Annie knocked to tell her luncheon was served.

She had not expected that Victor would have the effrontery to appear for luncheon., nor did he. This was an informal meal when no visitors were present; the family came or not as they pleased. Lady Annabelle was always accompanied by one or more cats when she attended the meal. Today Marianne was glad to see that her companion was the enormous red Horace. He at least could be trusted to remain in his mistress's lap.

The Duchess studied Marianne with an expression of concern, and the girl squirmed self-consciously. Perhaps the Duchess did have psychic powers and could read her mind! But, as it turned out, the lady was thinking of another matter entirely.

"I fear this is dull for you," she said. "We will have to plan some outings. I only wish there were young people in the neighborhood with whom you might associate. Dr. Gruffstone is coming today or tomorrow, but he is not the gayest of companions. Roger, cannot I persuade you to stay for a few days and help entertain Marianne?"

"Thank you," the lawyer replied smoothly. "You tempt me. In fact, I had already arranged to go riding with Miss Ransom this afternoon."

Marianne had forgotten this arrangement, and she might have tried to get out of it but for the Duchess's response.

"What a splendid idea! I had thought of suggesting it, but it would be quite unsafe for her to venture out alone. Of course one of the grooms could accompany her, but this is much more suitable."

With the scheme thus approved, Marianne had no choice but to smile and say she was looking forward to it.

After the meal she went up to change into her riding habit. She was halfway up the stairs when a head popped out from between two of the carved banisters, with such an unnerving effect that only a firm grip of the handrail kept her from falling. She was irresistibly reminded of the painting of Lady Flora and her dreadful trophy. Then she saw that the head belonged to the young Duke, and that he was standing on a chest in the hall below.

"I gave you a start, didn't I?" he inquired complacently. "I did that to Annie once and she fell all the way down the stairs backwards. It was great fun."

"Annie did not find it great fun," Marianne replied with some asperity. "Nor will you, if you get your head caught between those posts and can't remove it."

"I got it in. I can get it out."

"So you think. I once saw a young rascal get caught in just such a way, between two iron railings. He got his head in, all right, but it required two large constables and a crowbar to get him out."

"Oh." Henry tried to withdraw his head. An expression of alarm crossed his face when he found himself momentarily caught; Marianne watched with un-Christian satisfaction. Then the boy turned slightly, freeing his ears, and made good his escape. He looked thoughtful, however, and Marianne hoped she had put an end to this particular sport.

She continued up the stairs. Henry swung over the rail and followed. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Riding, with Mr. Carlton."

"I will come along."

"Shouldn't you be at your studies?"

"Oh, I don't have to study. I am really quite clever, you know."

"I am sure you are." Marianne paused at her door, knowing that Henry would follow her in unless she dismissed him in no uncertain terms. "But you cannot come with us."

"Why not?" "I don't want you."

Henry's lower lip began to swell like a rising blister.

"You had better let me come. If you don't, I will tell my grandmother that you let Victor hug you and kiss you."

"What?" Marianne gasped. "You dreadful little… Were you following us this morning?"

"I do that a lot," said the Duke. "I'm very good at it. I practice in the woods, walking like Natty Bumppo; not a twig snaps."

"But sneaking – eavesdropping – that is most dishonorable!"

"But very interesting. People do the most amazing things when they think they are alone. This place is full of secret passages, you know. I have explored them all."

He took an apple from his pocket and juggled it as he spoke. Something about the restless gesture and the animation of the boy's face gave Marianne an unexpected feeling of sympathy. He seemed to have no companions of his own age and very few occupations; and if Victor was his preceptor it was no wonder Henry's notions of honorable behavior were deficient.

"If you followed us you must have seen that I did not allow M. Victor to do anything," she said.

"You hit him a good one," said the Duke admiringly. "I didn't know you were so strong. But Victor is a poor weak sort of fellow. I'd have come to rescue you if you had needed rescuing," he added. "The place where I was… it's a little hard to get out of it in a hurry."

"I appreciate the thought," Marianne said. "I promised, you know, that I wouldn't tell anyone about that."

"I won't tell either," said the Duke, tossing his apple high.

Marianne thought he was probably speaking the truth, not because of his noble nature but because the incident gave him a hold over his tutor. She considered admonishing him about the evils of blackmail but decided that if this thought had not already occurred to him she would only be putting ideas into his head.

"I would like very much to ride with you another day," she said. "I will need an escort after Mr. Carlton has returned to London. But today we must talk about certain business matters. It is a private talk. You would be bored."

"No, I wouldn't."

"Another time," Marianne said. Moving quickly, she got inside her room and bolted the door.

She wondered, as she changed, whether she had been wise to tell Henry that she and Carlton would be discussing private matters. His curiosity would certainly be piqued by that. But she felt sure they could find a place removed from any possibility of eavesdropping, even by the ingenious Duke.

Her spirits rose as she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror. The riding costume, made of the usual dull black cloth, set off her fair coloring and fit snugly around the waist before billowing out over a small bustle. Simple as the gown was, it had the unmistakable air of superb tailoring, and the hat was delicious – a dashing cavalier style with a broad brim and sweeping plumes.

When she came downstairs Carlton was waiting for her. He carried a leather crop, which he switched impatiently against his boots as he strode up and down.

"You were long enough," was his only greeting.

"A gentleman would say that the wait was well worthwhile," said Marianne, conscious of how pretty she looked.

"That depends on what one is waiting for. Come along. I have selected a mount for you and only hope you are up to it."