"I would have preferred to select my own."

"The choice is not that great." A footman hastened to open the door for them, and Carlton went on, "There is only one horse in the stable suitable for a lady. The head groom assures me she is gentle and tractable."

From this Marianne fully expected a timid old mare or a fat pony. She was agreeably surprised when she saw the horses a groom was leading up and down along the drive. One was a tall bay gelding which was stamping and blowing, impatient to be off; the other, which carried a lady's sidesaddle, was an elegant gray. Mild brown eyes turned to study Marianne as she approached, and a velvety soft mouth nuzzled the hand she extended.

"But I have nothing for you," she whispered. "Next time, I promise. How beautiful you are!" She turned to the groom. "What is her name?"

"Stella," was the reply. "Ye'll hae no trouble wi' her, miss; she's gentle as a lamb."

Marianne was about to reply that she was not at all afraid when she saw Carlton looking superciliously down at her from his saddle and a wicked impulse came over her. When the groom offered his hands to help her mount she made a clumsy business of it and wriggled around as if she were having difficulty finding her seat.

They started off at a walk, with Carlton leading. As soon as his back was turned Marianne settled herself more comfortably.

Carlton stayed on the path until they were out of the grounds. They went out a back gate instead of following the main drive to the road, and found themselves on the open moors, with the mountains forming a magnificent backdrop. The terrain was not too unlike the moors of Marianne's home, and as a fresh breeze tugged at the plumes in her hat she felt a rush of delight flood her veins. She had not realized how much she had missed the open air and the joy of finding herself on the back of a good horse.

She knew she rode well; had not her father, the best horseman in the West Riding, taught her? Indeed, these lessons had been the only occasions when Marianne felt close to her father – because only then was the squire unselfconscious with her. He had taken pride in her aptitude and made no allowance for her sex, except to insist that she ride sidesaddle after she grew too old to let her bare legs dangle. Noting the eager arch of the horse's neck, she knew Stella was yearning to run. The mare was too well trained to do so without an order from her rider, but her muscles quivered with desire.

So when Carlton said, "We might try a trot, I suppose, if you think you can stay on," Marianne yielded to her evil angel. It was only necessary to raise her hands and make a soft wordless sound of encouragement, and Stella was off.

Marianne heard Carlton's cry of alarm far behind her and tried to look as if she were being run away with; but after the first moment she forgot her intention in the sheer rapture of speed. The squire had owned some fine horses, but she had never ridden an animal that moved as well as Stella. Marianne urged her on with a shout, and lost her hat. The wind tore her curls loose from their net.

It was not repentance or fear that finally made her slow the horse's reckless pace, but awareness that she did not know the terrain and had no right to endanger the splendid animal by risking a stumble or a fall. Only then, as the whistling of air in her ears diminished, did she hear the pound of hooves behind her. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Carlton urging the gelding on at a desperate pace. He rode like a centaur, but the sight of his taut, anxious face made her want to burst out laughing. As he drew closer he shouted, "Hold on, don't let go the reins! Try to pull her in."

Marianne did so. The obedient Stella stopped, so suddenly that Carlton went shooting past. He turned his mount with ruthless strength and rode back more slowly.

The truth had dawned on him by then, and his expression was too much for Marianne. She doubled up over Stella's neck. Carlton waited until she had controlled her mirth. Then he said grimly, "I hope you enjoyed that."

"I did. So did Stella." Marianne stroked the mare's neck. Stella turned her head and curled her lips back as if joining in the girl's amusement. "Oh, it was wonderful," she went on exultantly. "I didn't realize how much I had missed it. And she moves like a dream – she is a wonder!"

"She is," Carlton agreed. "And you are a thoughtless, reckless young idiot." He studied her laughing, unrepentant face with its frame of tumbled curls, and after a moment the corners of his mouth twitched. "I suppose I sounded very smug, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. I could not resist."

"I can't say that I blame you. All the same, you took a risk you should not have taken, and frightened me half to death. My heart has not stopped pounding yet."

"I didn't know you cared," said Marianne, lowering her eyes and looking up at him through her lashes.

"The Duchess would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you," was the cool reply. "Now, if your sense of humor is satisfied, shall we go on?"

"Well," said Marianne, after they had proceeded for some distance side by side, "what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"First I want you to tell me something. What precisely happened between you and Bagshot?"

Marianne's hands tightened. The intelligent Stella rolled an inquiring eye back at her, decided that the movement had not been meant for her, and proceeded onward at the same steady pace.

"I don't want to talk about it," Marianne muttered.

"I fear you must if you want me to trace your Maggie. I was unable to discover what had become of her. I must have more information if I am to proceed."

"You tried to find her?" Marianne's pique evaporated. She gave him a look of sincere gratitude. "That was kind."

"But ineffective, so far. I learned something of her history from the performers at the club, but none of them knew her well, and no one admits to having seen her after that night. Did she ever mention where she lived, or the name of a friend with whom she might have taken shelter? I must know everything she said."

"I didn't know what sort of place it was!"

Marianne burst out. "You must think me very stupid… but there are respectable theaters. I only wanted to earn my living singing. I see now that Mr. Wilson must have taken pains to keep me from finding out that the Alhambra was… And Maggie said something… what was it? Something to the effect that she should have known what he – what he was after. She watched over me, and I never realized. I believe he had sent a false message of some sort, that night, to lure her away."

"She would know of Bagshot's reputation," Carlton agreed dryly. "It is notorious, to say the least. And I myself observed him watching you the first night I attended your performance."

"You probably thought I would encourage his attentions," Marianne mumbled abjectly. "He certainly did. He walked into my dressing room as if he owned the place – and me. At first I think he could not believe I was sincere in rejecting him. Then he became very angry. His face was like a devil's! I wish I could forget it."

She closed her eyes and shivered. After a moment Carlton said gently, "I am sorry to put you through this. If it is any comfort to you, I believe you were as innocent as you claim."

Marianne opened her eyes and looked directly at him. "But you don't believe I am innocent now. You think that when I learned of the Duchess's fantasy I determined to take advantage of it."

"That is not the issue. Finish your account, please."

"But… Well, it is soon finished. He seized me. I resisted. My resistance only enraged him more. I did not see Maggie come in; I was – I was on the verge of fainting, I think. I felt his grasp relax; then he fell at my feet and I saw Maggie holding the stick with which she had struck him – his own gold-headed cane."