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Copyright ©1984 by Elizabeth Chater

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THE MARRIAGE MART

THE GAMESTER

MILORD'S LEIGEWOMAN

ANGELA

THE RUNAWAY DEBUTANTE

A TIME TO LOVE

MILADY HOT-AT-HAND

LADY DEARBORN'S DEBUT

A PLACE FOR ALFREDA

A DELICATE SITUATION

PRELUDE

Calais

One stormy evening about dusk a luxurious, unmarked carriage pulled up before the doors of the
Golden Swan, the best hostelry in Calais. With a flurry of outriders and grooms, and under the watchful
eyes of two mounted soldiers, the three occupants of the coach were helped down onto the slimy

cobblestones of the inn. First came two elegantly dressed females, then a rather pompous,
worried-looking middle-aged gentleman. The innkeeper bowed them obsequiously into the building,
promising every attention and comfort to milord and his party while they waited to embark upon the ship
for Dover. The innkeeper himself ushered the ladies and their escort into a private room where a bright
fire already burned to welcome them. Servants scurried in with glasses of the finest cognac to restore the
guests’ spirits after their exhausting journey from Paris.

An interested witness to this impressive arrival was a tall, lean Englishman in a well-fitting riding coat,
high boots of an impressive luster, and pristine buckskins, who was lounging in a window embrasure. His
dark, saturnine face and sinewy body had a certain raffish charm. At least it attracted the attention of the
elder of the two ladies, a ripely lovely dame who cast a speculative look from under her extraordinary
eyelashes at the dashing Englishman.

The gentleman, whose name was Sir Hilary Conray, acknowledged her interest with a small knowing
smile. He bowed slightly, eyebrows raised in tribute to her beauty. The lady permitted herself an
answering smile as, having finished her cordial, she followed the innkeeper upstairs.

Her female companion, at the moment rather eclipsed under a truly impressive bonnet, was now the
object of the Englishman's scrutiny. He was surprised to discover that she was even more beautiful, as
well as much younger, than her companion. She was at the moment favoring him with a very sharp and
rather quelling glance as she hurried off after her fellow traveler. Their escort, still appearing worried,
stood staring down into the fire. He had obviously not noticed the little exchange of glances.

Their host returned, coughed deferentially to attract the man's attention, and offered to lead him to his
own room.

Sir Hilary waited until the landlord, still bustling, had sent pots of coffee and trays of new-baked bread
and pâté up to the guests’ rooms to sustain their strength until a proper dinner could be dished up. Then,
the Englishman casually suggested that he buy his host a drink.

Anxious to display his own consequence by boasting of his important customers, the innkeeper readily
agreed. Over his best cognac he was easily persuaded to tell all he knew about his aristocratic guests. It
appeared that the whole inn, with of course the exception of Sir Hilary's own room, had been engaged
for the accommodation of this special party of travelers.

“The Golden Swan, of course, is well and favorably known to fastidious travelers from as far off as Paris
and even London,” he boasted. Then, in a portentously lowered tone, he added, “An equerry fromKing
Louis himself came here two days ago and engaged my assistance in providing asylum and comfort for
three very important persons—personal friends of His Majesty! They are to stay the night. Then at dawn
they embark upon a specially chartered yacht which will deliver them to Dover without loss of time!"

The lean gentleman appeared suitably impressed. He even went so far as to suggest another round, at his
expense of course. The host insisted that it washis privilege. When the business of pouring and savoring
was completed, the innkeeper continued even more expansively. “The equerry, who must of course be
nameless, let drop a few crumbs of information."

Say, rather,thought Sir Hilary sardonically,that you quizzed his servants. However he nodded as
though deeply impressed.

The innkeeper continued. “It appears that the older lady has been a friend—a very dear friend!—ofour
beloved monarch. Now that things are becoming so unsettled in Paris, Madame la Comtesse is to spend

some time in England, where malcontents and rabble-rousers are kept in better control.” Both men
solemnly toasted this thought, and the innkeeper's red face puffed angrily as he went on. “How long must
decent folk suffer the insolence of thesesansculottes? It is very bad for trade! I hope His Majesty will
adopt a firm tone with them, the scum!"

The Englishman nodded as though in solemn agreement, but his thoughts were racing. He must learn
more about the delightfully provocative female who had given him that most seductive signal. Was she a
spy, an agent provocateur, or merely some princeling's bored or apprehensive mistress? Could she even
be, as the landlord claimed, a mistress to Louis himself? He grinned sardonically. In his business, one
heard remarkable snippets of information, which must be carefully sifted and reported. The lady was
worth his attention in any case. He had rarely seen so lovely and provocative a woman. If she was good
enough for royalty, he decided cynically, she should be rewarding game. There might be much to
discover ... but there would be obstacles...

“Are the older gentleman and the young lady her family, do you know?” he asked casually.

“Thenobleman," corrected his host smugly, “is a courier, an escort assigned to get them safely to the
ship.” He explained loftily: “The child is the daughter of the Comtesse."

Sir Hilary's eyebrows rose involuntarily. That radiant little beauty, dressed in the first stare of fashion,
scented, exquisite, with an arrogant lift to her small, bonneted head, achild?... "Indeed?” he said. “The
lady does not seem old enough to have so mature a child."

This naïveté permitted the innkeeper to smile patronizingly. “Madame la Comtesse, as do all the ladies of
the Court, brings to her aidle maquillage, that is, paints and lotions, essences and cosmetic aids which
restore to the—ah—more mature woman the glow of youth."

“Indeed?” commented the Englishman again. His questions had rather put the innkeeper upon his guard,
reminding him that he spoke of His Majesty'sprotégée. He put down his glass and rose from the table.
This Englishman, although a frequent, generous and approachable guest, was after all a foreigner. The
host moved away with a murmured excuse.

Sir Hilary was not unhappy to see him go. The fellow had furnished enough information to alert Conray.
If he could by some means manage to get aboard the yacht, he might be able to arrange a closer
connection with the very attractive and knowledgeable older woman. Sir Hilary began to consider
stratagems to avoid the pompous courier and the lovely but suspicious daughter. The latter would be no
loss. Conray was not attracted to green girls, no matter how beautiful, preferring the sweet ripeness of
maturity. No doubt the little chit was overindulged and self-willed, and would make his task difficult. It
was inevitable, also, that the man had received instructions to guard the noble courtesan carefully. Getting
to her might prove most difficult.

Next morning, his task was easier than he had anticipated. It appeared that the exalted Protector had
required his courier only to see the Comtesse and her daughter safely on board theTriton. In fact, her
guide bade her good-bye with obvious relief. Sir Hilary, up betimes and with his spartan wardrobe neatly
packed in one small portmanteau, lingered near a storage shed in the misty dawn and watched the two
women embarking upon the trim little vessel while servants waited to carry two trunks aboard.Rather a
paltry sendoff for the King's ladylove, Hilary decided.

When the Frenchman turned and walked away, Sir Hilary strolled over to the ship. Seamen were
readying the sails and releasing the hawsers which had held theTriton to the quay.

“I am to accompany the Comtesse and her daughter to England,” Hilary told one of the seamen, coolly
flipping his portmanteau onto the deck as he stepped aboard.

A petty officer came forward to challenge him. “I am sent by the British Government to escort these
ladies to London,” he said, anticipating the officer's questions."You know, of course, the importance of
this mission. I'll take over as courier from now on.” Flattered that this tall Englishman should think that he,
the second mate, was fully cognizant of the business of the King's Court, the officer saluted and hurried
off, muttering something to the effect that someone should have told the officers of theTriton to expect
milord.

The vessel was infinitely more luxurious than any commercial or naval craft. Sir Hilary wondered what
nobleman had been persuaded to provide it for this trip. A sailor came to show the Englishman down to a
small but attractive cabin and asked him what he would like.

Sir Hilary grinned. “Breakfast,” he said. “I was too early to get any at the inn.” His French was colloquial
and easily understood. The sailor grinned back and told m'sieu to repair to the dining salon, where he
would be in time to join the ladies at apetit déjeuner.

Madame la Comtesse greeted his arrival with a delighted smile. Sir Hilary introduced himself, and the
Comtesse waved one white hand toward the seat at her right. As he took his place at the small table Sir
Hilary glanced at the other member of the party. The girl was even more lovely than he had noticed. With
the elaborate bonnet removed, her red gold hair waved softly to her shoulders, framing a face whose
exquisite features were enough to make even a hardened campaigner like Sir Hilary open his eyes.

The girl was not smiling at him. A dark frown threatened storms to come, and she glared at hermaman
with an accusing scowl. “Did you invite this-this person to join us, Dani?” she demanded. “Remember
that Uncle Louis instructed you to depart with the utmost circumspection!"

“I am to be your guide and escort to London,” Sir Hilary interposed swiftly. “I am sure neither His
Britannic Majesty nor Mr. William Pitt would wish you to be running loose in the countryside—"

He caught a flash of warning from the older woman, and paused.

“And who,” demanded the chit, “is William Pitt?"

“Our Prime Minister,” said Sir Hilary smoothly and smiled.

The girl still scowled, but she turned back to her meal and said no more until she had finished, at which
time she rose, gave her mother a minatory glance, and left the dining salon.

“Phew!” breathed Sir Hilary; he grinned ruefully at his companion.

“You are a naughty man,” the Comtesse informed him with a charming gurgle of laughter. “I am sure Mr.
William Pitt never heard of you! I saw you lounging in the room at the Golden Swan last night, and knew
you at once, sir, for exactly what you are!"

Since this knowledge did not seem to disgust her, rather to amuse her, Sir Hilary smiled warmly back
into her inviting eyes.

“Did you indeed, madame?” he teased gently.

“Now I wonder just what knavish role you assign me? In point of fact, I am Sir Hilary Conray,
gentleman-at-leisure, and very much at the service of the Comtesse.That much I know,” he added with a
charming smile, “but Countess of what? And above all, what is your first name?"

She gave him an archly seductive glance. “I am Danielle de Granville, widow of the Comte de Granville.
He was,” she added contemplatively, “a crotchety old Breton who never really liked me, although he did
give me my adorable little doll, Tiri, who has just left us inun emportement... How do you say in
English?"

“In a huff,” supplied Sir Hilary. “Does it bother you that your daughter doesn't like me?"

“She liked King Louis,” the widow said. “I fear he spoiled her. When I first came to Court, eight years
ago, she was a darling child of nine, as pretty as she is now, and very anxious to have a father to love.
Louis used to call her hispoupée dorée, and he indulged her ridiculously."

"Poupée dorée—goldendoll?” translated Sir Hilary. “But her hair is more red than gold, and she seems
to have a temper to match! Nowyour hair is true soft gold. Do you have a heart to match?” he teased
her. “Madame la Comtesse?"

The woman refused to commit herself. “Call me Dani."

“Shall you stay long in London?” probed Sir Hilary.

Dani's face lost a little of its glow. “Forever,” she said quietly. “This is dismissal. Louis and his ministers
are anxiously seeking ways to pacify his critics among the aristocracy, as well as the revolutionary
elements. The Queen has her adherents, and they cry daily that Her Majesty is affronted by the King's
belles amies. So Louis arranged this journey for me and bade me farewell. I am,” she concluded wryly,
“cast-off ... abandoned!"

Sir Hilary laughed at this provocative frankness and bent over her white hand. “That can be very
pleasant,” he teased, “to be—abandoned!” Then, smiling at her puzzled look, he whispered, “Let me
show you what I mean, Dani.” He kissed her hand and held her soft palm against his face; his kisses
interspersed with little nibbles at the soft pads of flesh. Dani, restored to her usual good humor by these
attentions, bent toward him with warm eyes and smile. “Perhaps this journey to nowhere may be more
interesting than I had expected,” she breathed, and met the challenging eyes he lifted to her face.

CHAPTER I

LONDON

The new Duke of Lansdale entered his mother's drawing room with a smile of such smug complacence
that she immediately realizes that her plans were in danger. It had been a year almost to the day since his
father died; a year during which she had worked and connived and battled without quarter to establish
the same dominance over her only child as she had successfully exerted over his father, the late Duke. So
far, all she had proved was that Daral was of a different metal from his papa. George Lansdale had been
a morose, sullen man who had never forgiven his own father for saddling him with Lady Letitia Mall as a
wife. Rather than engage in the endless bickering which she enjoyed, George retreated physically to his
country estates or his hunting box wherever he could, and when he was unable to get away, he went into
a kind of mental retreat which discouraged instruction. Since Lady Letitia refused to leave London they
were happily separated for most of the year. However, George held the pursestrings, and steadfastly

refused to make repairs on the marriage and in which she insisted upon living. Thus it grew shabbier and
more dismal year by year. The Duchess had more than enough in her own right to finance any changes
she cared to make, but she was by nature unwilling to spend a farthing which was not essential to her
own health, and she had determined that all the upkeep of her home should be the responsibility of her
husband.

When George died the previous year, Letitia had at first no suspicion that in her son she would find a
very different customer. True, the new Duke refused to quarrel with her, even as had his father, but he
had a sharp tongue and a life-long sense of distaste for this domineering female who had made his father's
life a misery. When she informed Daral that he would have to give her the funds to have the townhouse
refurbished, he smiled and informedher that he was building his own house in a much more elegant
neighborhood. When she instructed him to propose marriage to his cousin, Lady Bridget Mall, he told his
mama he would rather marry the griffin on the family coat of arms. From the day of his accession to the
title, Daral had not spent a night in his mother's house, and the duchess was at her wit's end for a method
of bringing him to heel.

On this day he had come at her urgent summons to pick up a letter from the King of France. At first,
receiving a personal visit from his mother's butler with the message, the Duke had been sure that this was
some new ploy to inveigle him into her house. What could the King of France want with the new Duke of
Lansdale? Scanning his mama's frantic demand for his presence, it occurred to him that it was to his
father that the note had been sent. Yet surely King Louis had too much to worry him in France to bother
keeping track of an acquaintance made years before with an English nobleman! A hoax, then? Still,
Fallow's real alarm moved the Duke to stroll over to the townhouse, particularly since he had an item of
news to impart which would, he hoped, cause the Duchess to give up their running battle at last. As the
Duke entered his mother's drawing room, she became aware at once that she would have a battle royal
upon her hands if she hoped to have any success at all in accomplishing her current scheme. Daral was so
cool, so self-possessed—so damnably good-looking! She gathered her wits for the attack.

“It took you long enough to get here!” was her opening volley.

“Ever gracious!” murmured her son, smiling. “How is your health, dear Mama?"

Normally good for ten minutes of self-pity and veiled accusations of heartless behavior on her son's part,
the subject of her health was today ignored by Lady Letitia. “The King of France wishes you to sponsor
some females he is getting rid of.” She dropped her bombshell with as much venom as she could. “Your
father's behavior while he visited Versailles and Paris was probably so licentious that the French monarch
feels he would welcome two—"

She was stopped by her son's uplifted hand, but even more by the look on his face."De mortuis nil nisi
bonum," he intoned in a low voice, and then, with a show of pity for her noncomprehension, he
translated: “Of the dead, speak nothing but good, Mama! Father has gone to his rest. Let us not belabor
his name."

He really looked so handsome, standing in the light of the many-candled chandelier, his golden head
gleaming, his dark green velvet coat almost the exact color of his remarkable eyes, that his mama felt a
strong emotion to ... do what? She had never practiced either love or gentleness with her family, and she
did not even recognize the tenderer emotions when they tried to struggle through the hard shell that years
of selfish, insensitive behavior had built. She shrugged her bony shoulders and changed her direction.

“Well, as Duke you must receive the message, and it is for you to act upon it as you wish. I do not wish
these foreign females to stay inmy house!"

“How did you know the letter concerned two female protégées of King Louis?” the Duke asked idly,
making a business of seating himself in a chair opposite his mother's.

His mama fell into the trap. “I read—” she began, and then paused as she observed his bitter smile. “It
was addressed to your father,” she tried to excuse herself.

“But my father has been dead for over a year. Is the envelope inscribed to George, Duke of Lansdale?
Perhaps you should let me see this so-urgent communication."

Silently she handed the heavy vellum to him. The Duke scanned the superscription carefully. As he had
expected, it was addressed only toHis Grace, the Duke of Lansdale. Without glancing at his mother,
Daral opened the missive and extracted the note within. It was evidently written by Louis himself, a
wretched scrawl.Probably did not wish to trust the incriminating contents to the eyes of any
secretary, however loyal, thought the Duke cynically. The note was brief. It stated that Danielle,
Comtesse de Granville, and her daughter, Tiri, were valued friends of Louis, who requested that his old
friend George, Duke of Lansdale would accept the two ladies into his household and present them to
their Britannic Majesties at a suitable opportunity. In addition, he would be pleased to have the Duchess
sponsor Mademoiselle Tiri into English Society—"so little Tiri may make a good marriage. I have known
la petite poupée dorée since she was nine years old,” the note continued with considerably more
warmth than the first half had evinced. “She is a charming child and should do well. It should be a
pleasure for you to have her in your house,” added the King; he then expressed brief thanks and signed
the note “Louis” in an almost indecipherable scrawl.

The Duke stared thoughtfully at the hastily written message. “I wonder how she forced him to write this,”
he mused.

“I should think it would be easy enough to guess,” snapped his mother. “That kind of woman!—"

“But the daughter?"

“Louis's, of course!"

“When he expressly informs us he met her when she was nine years old?” mocked her son, his fine eyes
glinting like emeralds.

“All lies,” the Duchess sniffed."Men!" This last was uttered in a tone of such loathing that the Duke gave
his mother an assessing stare.

“I hardly think the King of France would wish to force an illegitimate daughter upon the King and Queen
of England,” he said, his mildness a rebuke to her venom, “much less propose that she be introduced as a
débutante by you, my dear Mama. No, we shall probably find that she really is the child of some petty
nobleman. And you do not have to introduce the mother,” he added, with a false kindliness which set his
mama's teeth on edge.

“I shall accept neither of the females into my house,” she said coldly. “Since you have so much
admiration for your papa, you may take over his responsibilities.” And then she presented the ultimatum
which had occurred to her as a solution of her greatest problem. “Unless, of course, you wish to return to
live here as you should do. In such case, I would agree to chaperone these—women."

The Duke, still smiling, dropped his own bomb. “I am to move into my new home this afternoon,” he

informed her. “It is in Grosvenor Square, and I think you will agree it is much more beautiful and
impressive than this house. It will, of course, be known as Lansdale House, the official London residence
of the Duke.” He gave her the small smile she so detested. “You will have to retitle this place Mall
House, will you not? Since it was your father's home, or his father's? Or perhaps you will choose to call it
the Dower House?"

He watched the changing expressions which moved over her features—shock, chagrin, rage. Perhaps it
was unworthy of him to use her so? Then, remembering the years of his father's martyrdom, he hardened
his heart.

Lady Letitia surprised him again with her strength. “Whatever I call it, my house will not be open to
entertain a pair of soiled women,” she said harshly. “You had better make arrangements to receive them
in your fine new home at once. I have just had a note from the older female, who urges that I permit them
to call upon me without delay. I'll send them off to you."

The Duke acknowledged the hit. “You know that without a suitable chaperone I cannot house such
ladies in a bachelor's establishment,” he said; then, shrewdly, “What would dear Lady Bridget say?"

This was a telling blow. For three years Lady Letitia had tried to force his distant cousin, Lady Bridget
Mall, down her son's throat. The girl was presentable, but there was something about her eyes which
reminded him too much of his mother. The very thought of marrying Bridget sent a cold chill through
Daral's body. Better, as he had perhaps inadvisably retorted, to marry a bronze griffin than that
hard-eyed, cold-hearted girl. Perhaps he could use his mother's matchmaking plans to fight off this latest
challenge. “You know our dear little cousin would never agree to marry me if I had two dazzling French
courtesans in residence!"

This brilliant riposte quite halted Lady Letitia's attack. She glared at her son, disbelief warring with hope,
anger warring with dismay.

“Are you telling me you are considering offering marriage to your cousin?” she managed at length.

The Duke shrugged airily. “I should be wasting my time even considering such a course if I am
compelled to house two ladies of questionable virtue in a bachelor's ménage,” he said, “and no, do not
tell me again that I must return to live in your house. I shall not do so."

The Duchess tightened her lips. He had bested her again! He knew—the devil!—that she wanted above
all things to marry him off to the daughter of her childhood crony and cousin. Once safely tied to the
formidable Lady Bridget Mall, Daral would soon become amenable to, if not enthusiastic about, her
demands. She acknowledged defeat in characteristic fashion.

“When is the engagement to be announced?"

“When I am satisfied that King Louis's two protégées are well and truly launched into London's Beau
Monde,” said the Duke crisply. “If there is any trouble, any spreading of scurrilous rumor, even ifyour
hand is not obvious in the canard, I shall of course offer for some other lady.” At her gasp of surprise, he
continued, smoothly, “Oh, I have listened to your tirades over the last year, Mama, and I begin to think
there is much in what you say. The Line needs an heir. If not Bridget, perhaps some other well-born
female will suit my requirements. There are two beautiful girls of even better lineage than Bridget among
thedébutantes this season, had you noticed? Perhaps Lansdale would benefit from an infusion of nobler
blood than the Malls'."

The Duchess set her teeth. He had her there, as well! She was an ambitious woman, but she had not let
her obsession with controlling her son blind her to the larger opportunities that his title, his wealth, and his
personal beauty could provide. And yet! It had been her dream for so long that her son should marry the
daughter of her cousin and best friend! She nodded her head, conceding yet another victory to this
unnatural child.

“I shall receive theKing's—protégées here tomorrow,” she agreed. “You will of course be here?"

The victor had no intention of conceding an inch. “I shall try to, Mama, I shall try!” he sighed theatrically.
“Moving one's household to a new home is so demanding!—"

He rose, bowed in correct form, and departed, leaving his enraged mama to pace her dingy drawing
room in a fury of envy and frustration.

CHAPTER 2

Tiri de Granville scowled at the imposing mansion before which the hired carriage had stopped. It
seemed to the girl that she had been traveling a great deal of late, arriving at temporary stopping places
where she was neither known nor particularly welcome. It was too much to hope, the thought came
despairingly, that this gloomy chateau in dank, rainy London would be any different. Why should an
English Duke and Duchess make welcome two unknown foreigners? And more especially, a
Frenchwoman whosemaman had been singled out by the King of France for special favor? Though she
was only seventeen, Tiri was bright and alert and knowledgeable beyond her years. She had heard and
understood only too well the sniggering hints and innuendoes which had been bandied about the inner
circles at Versailles. She lifted her chin proudly. Her own lineage was flawless. Her papa had been the
Sieur de Granville, a crabbed but fiercely proud Breton whose line could be traced back to the thirteenth
century. And it was not Tiri's fault that her beautifulmaman had left Brittany the day he died, taking her
child with her, and never returned to the estate that was now the property of a distant cousin of the
‘Sieur. Dani de Granville had been under the patronage of a charming Marquis when King Louis beheld
her, and had been the monarch's special friend since that day; she was cheerful, undemanding, reassuring.
Probably one of his fewreal friends, thought Tiri crossly, recalling the lonely, austere monarch whose
irresolution and lack of political shrewdness was costing him his throne.

The girl shrugged. Hermaman had a letter from the King to this Duke, requesting him to give a home to
his great friend and her daughter until they could find suitable quarters for themselves. Then last night, in
the small but clean hotel that Sir Hilary had found for them, Dani admitted that the King had not
bestowed upon her the largesse which the Englishman, and indeed, Tiri herself, had supposed he would
do.

“I could not take it,” Dani had pleaded. “While I was honored by his friendship, yes! But now, dismissed
like a kitchen maid!—I refused the purse he offered me."

“Good God!” breathed Sir Hilary, and viewed Dani very thoughtfully.

Tiri was less restrained."Maman!" she half wailed, “you did not set off to a foreign country with only a
few francs in your reticule? What are we to do?"

“The Duke of Lansdale will provide,” said Dani a trifle austerely. “We have Louis's word on it."

“But for how long?” demanded Tiri. “And with what lack of enthusiasm? We cannot even offer vails to

his servants! Nor, for that matter, can we pay the bill at this—inn!” And she glared at the blameless Sir
Hilary as though he were the villain of the piece.

Hilary found himself grinning. “I admit that the Bull and Crown is not Versailles,” he teased, “but you are
my guests here, and I shall see you safely to your ducal mansion.” He gave Dani a particularly warm
smile.And when this tetchy little daughter of yours is safely shackled, that smile seemed to promise,
perhaps you and I? ...

Dani's answering smile set his heart to pounding.

Even Tiri was caught by the gentle sweetness and promise in her mother's countenance.

But that had been last night, at the Bull and Crown. Today the two women faced a difficult interview.
“Foisting ourselves upon complete strangers,” Tiri had muttered crossly.

Dani had not attempted to soothe her daughter's fears. “Yes, in a sense I suppose that is exactly what
we shall be doing in a few minutes,” she admitted coolly. “But our sponsor is unexceptionable, and if we
behave as women of breeding, we shall be accepted. You, at least, will be accepted. I shall make it clear
that I do not wish to be introduced into the Haut Ton. My association with Louis will no doubt leak out,
and I have no desire to encounter snubs and cold shoulders from haughty dames who could not lure even
their own husbands into their beds!"

Tiri stared wide-eyed at hermaman. It was the first time she had heard a note of bitterness in her
mother's voice. “But what will you do?—” she faltered.

“I shall behave very much as the elderly chaperone, refuse to attend most parties; I shall sit along the
wall with the dowagers if compelled to go. I shall play least-in-sight,” she added with relish.

Sir Hilary!thought Tiri.He has been teaching her his English patois—cant, it was called in London.
She frowned. “And after I am suitably betrothed—if indeed such a feat is not beyond even a Duke's
power—what will you do then?"

“I shall marry Sir Hilary,” announced Dani happily.

This was worse than Tiri had feared. Hermaman had succumbed to the persuasions of the raffish Sir
Hilary! Her mother, reading her expression correctly, gave her charming gurgle of laughter.

"TiriYour expression! Is it that you do not wishMaman to makeun manage de convenance?"

“An arranged marriage, yes! That would give you security in this cold, unfriendly land. But Sir Hilary!
Maman, is it true he has offered to marry you?"

Dani looked delightfully wicked. “Not yet, poor man! But he will think of it soon enough, I promise you.
I shall see to that!"

Tiri found herself quite unable to respond to such lighthearted folly. If Dani had succumbed to Sir
Hilary's undoubted charm, he would no doubt lose little time in setting up aménage à deux in his small
but luxurious lodgings, which he had given them a glimpse of yesterday evening. It was obvious this
limited accommodation did not provide room for a young girl. Tiri's only hope was that Dani would
remain with her until she was safely launched as King Louis had originally planned. She glanced at her
mother as the coach, hired by Sir Hilary, trundled along the road. Thank goodness that volatile little lady

had agreed to come with her! It would have been too embarrassing to approach a stiff English nobleman
and his lady by herself and request that they give her shelter.

The coachman was down off the box and holding the door open. Dani accepted his hand to descend to
the flagstones before the massive, gloomy residence Tiri, hopping down lightly, felt herself shiver. To be
forced to live in this mausoleum would be bad enough. To live there withoutMaman's cheerful
insouciance would be disaster! Sir Hilary must be discouraged! She turned to her mother with the
intention of urging one final plea—

Too late. The heavy doors were swinging open, a butler and two footmen in somber liveries ushered the
visitors into a barnlike hall which smelt, to Tiri's sensitive nostrils, both musty and damp. Then the butler
was ushering the ladies into a cavernous drawing room filled too full of ancient, heavy furniture.

“Your Grace!” he announced. “The Comtesse de Granville and Mademoiselle de Granville!"

He didn't do that too badly,considered the girl.He got his tongue around the French quite
competently. Perhaps he's been practicing. Dani had written her note to the Duke two days ago,
explaining the situation in detail. Yesterday the reply had come, inviting them to call today at three. So
here they were.

The gaunt female who stood staring at them was enough to daunt the stoutest heart, Tiri decided. She
was very plain-looking, and although she was dressed formally, it was not, to the French girl's
knowledgeable gaze, in high style. It was in fact a conservative rendering of a fashion several years out of
date at the French Court. The lady appeared to be scrutinizing her two visitors with less than enthusiasm.
After too long a wait she moved forward a step and indicated two chairs.

“Will you be seated? Then perhaps we can discuss this—this matter."

All three ladies seated themselves. For once Dani's lighthearted aplomb seemed to have deserted her.
After a pause, she dipped into her charming reticule and drew out a lace handkerchief scented with a
ravishing perfume. The Duchess's nostrils flared.

“Did the Duke have time to read the letter from King Louis, Your Grace?” Dani asked in her prettily
accented English. “I had hoped to speak to him today—but since he seems not to be here...” she ended
upon a soft note of inquiry.

The Englishwoman stared down her long nose at the delicately painted, tastefully gowned females. She
dared not permit the creatures to worm their way into Daral's good graces. To have them as his guests
would do irreparable harm to Letitia's plans. She must appear to accept their presence in her own home
with equanimity—but must try to make them so uncomfortable that they would return to France—or at
least go elsewhere in London to stay! Armed with this resolve, she said nastily,

“My husband has been dead for over a year. I am scarcely out of black gloves and cannot guarantee
that you and the young miss will find my activities sufficiently amusing to entertain you. My son, the
present Duke, may attend us—hopes to attend us later this afternoon. Unavoidable business has
prevented his being here to greet you.” She frowned heavily. “Since I am to be involved in this visit,
perhaps you will tell me just what is your purpose in coming to this house.”Perhaps that will get rid of
them before Daral sets eyes upon them, she thought spitefully.

Tiri caught her breath at the crude challenge in the Duchess's remarks. Either the woman was completely
insensitive, a boor, or else she was angry at the arrival of the Frenchwomen. The girl stared hard and

tried to read the pinched, narrow features beneath the unfashionable wig.

Dani had recovered her composure. “I shall be happy to explain the situation to you, Your Grace,” she
said, in that soft voice that men found so pleasing. “King Louis has requested asylum for me and my
daughter in London until the current unrest in Paris has settled. The King had some knowledge of your
husband?” She interrupted herself and glanced with inquiry at the older woman.

“Yes,” that dame said grudgingly, “my husband did visit the French Court some years ago, and he was
presented to your monarch. He sometimes spoke of his—of his experiences in Paris. King Louis was
graciously pleased to include my husband in several of his entertainments."

“That is what I was given to understand by His Majesty,” Dani went on pleasantly. “When it became
apparent that difficult times loomed ahead, many of the nobility decided to seek new homes in other
countries, where the system of monarchy was still respected. Some of them chose the hospitable shores
of England for this retreat,” she added. “King Louis most kindly assisted us to reach this haven."

“There is trouble in France, then?” Her Grace asked. “We hear so many rumors these days ... but I am
not really interested in foreign politics."

“There is indeed much trouble in my beautiful France,” Dani admitted sorrowfully. “Some chateaux have
already been overrun by rioting mobs of peasants, and a few have actually been looted and burned to the
ground."

Her Grace did not appear too anguished over the plight of the foreign noblemen, merely remarking that,
“We do things better here in England, ma'am."

“I hope you will continue to do so,ma'am," replied her guest a shade tartly.

The Duchess frowned. “My son, the present Duke of Lansdale, has suggested that we keep you here
until you can find quarters more suitable to your needs. My son's agent, Ian Campbell, is already
searching for a residence that you might wish to consider. Perhaps you will speak to him. You can inform
him as to what money you wish to spend upon your purchase.” She stared at them disparagingly.

Dani, affronted at this continued rudeness, was still aware of the vulnerability of her position. She had no
money of her own beyond the few francs she had in her reticule. The two de Granville women were, in
fact, dependent upon Sir Hilary for the roof over their heads and the very food they placed in their
mouths. He was not averse to helping them—on the contrary, he implied frequently that a closer
relationship would suit him very well, but it must not become known that the Frenchwomen were staying
with such a raffish English bachelor. Such a rumor would put finish to any hope of Tiri's making a good
marriage. So, somehow, Dani must arrange that they stay here with this sour harridan until Tiri was safely
wed. Dani took a deep, restorative breath and focused a bland smile upon the Duchess.

“When I meet with your King George later this week, I shall be sure to mention your—ah—courteous
reception of us,” she promised sweetly.

This shot went home. The Duchess looked alarmed. It had not occurred to her that this foreign female
might haveentrée to the English Court. Hastily she revised her strategy. “But of course you will both
move in here today,” she hastened to say. “My son has suggested that rooms be prepared for you and
has already instructed the servants to place themselves at your disposal. Perhaps you would care to
repair to your suite now?” She ran over in her mind the instructions that she, not Daral, had given her
staff. She would have to amend them at once—as soon as these wretched foreigners went upstairs.

On their part, the “foreigners” were thankful to get away from the oppressive atmosphere of the gloomy
drawing room. They followed their reluctant hostess back into the hall, where the Duchess gave them into
the care of Mrs. Dodge, the housekeeper, a dour-faced female in a lugubrious black dress with a large
bunch of jangling keys hanging from a heavy belt.

“Feudal!” breathed Dani, with a mischievous twinkle at the keys. Tiri was not amused. Following her
mother and the housekeeper up the dark, uncarpeted stairway, the girl was, for the first time in her life,
prey to despair. Tiri was not stupid, and the signs had been clear to read of late.Maman, with all her
worldly knowledge, was incredibly naive if she believed that she could behave as she had done when she
was a charming, amusing friend of a harassed monarch. Here in England she was on very shaky ground
indeed. Her only friend was an English nobleman of dubious authenticity, whose patronage would do her
more harm than good. The English ruling class, for all the licentiousness of its male members, had strict
rules of conduct, of which the most important one was:Be discreet. This much she had picked up from
listening to the gossip around Versailles.

When the housekeeper left them, Dani advised her that the trunks would be delivered that afternoon.
Mrs. Dodge agreed to have them brought up the moment they arrived, with a maid to unpack them. After
the woman left, Dani stood in the middle of the cheerless room and stared around her. Then she walked
to the connecting door and gave Tiri's room an equally thorough inspection. She quirked an eyebrow at
her daughter.

“Not exactly Versailles, is it? Nor even the Rue du Rhône."

King Louis had given Dani a charming little apartment on that quiet street, a place for him to slip away to
when he could steal an hour or so, and for Dani and Tiri to live in when Louis was busy or otherwise
engaged, which was most of the time. Tiri, unhappy at the loneliness, had asked hermaman why they
should have to spend so much time alone in the apartment.

“It is important,” Dani had told her, “that one should not be too available. Or too visible,” she had added
with a wry smile. While she had held a certain place as the widow of the bearer of an ancient title, Dani
had been subject to criticism and scorn when she became Louis's mistress. Her position, and that of her
daughter, would be even more precarious in London. Only King Louis's parting gesture, the letters to the
Duke and to George III, stood between the two women and disaster.

With a little sob, Dani held out her arms. Tiri ran to her, feeling more like the mother than the daughter as
she held hermaman close and patted her shoulder. It was fortunate that a maid brought up tea at this
moment and set it on a small table. While Tiri suspected that this courtesy was extended by the Duchess
to avoid the necessity of sharing tea with her guests downstairs, she was glad to have it. Both women
marveled at the amount and variety of food the English deemed necessary to sustain the body until dinner.
After eating nearly everything, however, they sat back and smiled at one another.

"Bon!I am now ready to face even that dragon downstairs! And her son. One wonders if he is like his
mama?"

“One hopes not!” shuddered Tiri. “Two such dragons in the same cave would be unendurable!"

They shared a laugh at the description of the ducal mansion, and both felt better for it. Tiri was pleased
that her impulsive and rather spoiledmaman was taking this new development so lightheartedly. Perhaps
they might be able to establish themselves in spite of the unpleasant Duchess and her invisible son. In a
few days, one could catch one's breath, recuperate from the rigors of that headlong flight from Paris, and

have leisure to decide upon the best course of action. IfMaman really did have a note from Louis to the
English King, it would certainly be more impressive to deliver it in a ducal carriage than in a hired
hackney.

And if there was no note?

Tiri drew a shuddering breath. Surely in a city the size of London there would be something a girl could
do—some decent employment that would enable her to keep herself and her mother. For she did not
wantMaman to enter into a liaison with Sir Hilary Conray! She did not trust him. There was something
about him that suggested a more sinister purpose than a simple seduction of the charming Countess he
had met so casually in Calais.

The long afternoon dragged for the two women. Tiri spent time helping the maid unpack the trunks, and
then, when their few but exquisite costumes were safely disposed in the cavernous wardrobe, the girl
wandered through the austere suite, considering what could be done to brighten it up for Dani's comfort.
Tiri feared that her mother would never be content to remain in such depressing surroundings. Already
her pretty mouth was drooping forlornly. Soon it would harden into a stubborn line of rejection—and she
would begin to fret for the dashing English milord. What arguments could Tiri use to keep Dani here long
enough to accomplish the introduction to Polite Society? Long enough even to find some other refuge
than Sir Hilary?

Reinforcing Tiri's worst fears, Dani said abruptly. “I shall remain in this dungeon only long enough to see
you safely embarked upon your Season,ma petite, and then disappear. You may tell everyone I have
returned to the de Granville estates in Brittany."

“Think of the scandal it would create if you suddenly disappeared!” protested Tiri. “King Louis would
be sure to hear of it. Think how disappointed he will be after all his trouble in seeing us safely ensconced
in England!—"

Dani laughed scornfully.

“My poor child, Louis no longer cares what happens to either of us. He has his own troubles! Oh, he
was generous in getting us away from Paris, where we had no future in any circles we might be able to
enter, but his concern was chiefly because I had become an embarrassment to him. His ministers and the
Queen were urging him to give not even the slightest excuse for scandal at the moment. No, my dear Tiri,
this must be a new life for us both. There is nothing for either of us in your father's demesne. I think I have
found my destiny,” she said warmly. “I may even be able to convince my Englishman that he wishes to
marry me!"

With her lips open to protest, Tiri was silenced by her mother's evident joy. “You would really
consider?—” she began doubtfully.

“I have never met a man who attracted me so strongly,” Dani confessed quietly. “Now I have only to
persuade him!” She smiled at the girl. “But first,ma chére enfant, we must find a suitableparti for you! I
am afraid we'll need the Duke's sponsorship for that. So fortunate that your father was a nobleman of
ancient lineage,” she added, grinning like a gamine.

Tiri was so grateful that hermaman was speaking more cheerfully that she began to grin also. “Do you
really have a letter from Uncle Louis for the English King?” she asked.

Dani nodded. “It should be enough to insure your being presented at Court. That will smooth our path."

“How do you know what's in it?” worried Tiri.

“I stood at his shoulder as he wrote it,” confessed Dani. Her expression became contemplative. “Poor
Louis! He always seems to make such a muddle of the simplest things! I do hope he will be able to
rescue himself and his family from thisdésastre! Il fait toujours des étourderies!" She sighed, shaking
her head over the poor judgment and irresolute behavior of her former protector. “Well!” she rallied, “we
must find ways to persuade this English Duke who plays least-in-sight to give a ball for you, my dear
one.” Her expression became dreamy as she scrutinized her daughter's slender elegance in a silk gown
which exactly matched her hair. “If we cannot catch you an eligible bachelor withyour looks,ma poupée,
the English must be blind!"

CHAPTER 3

As the day advanced, however, Dani's mood became depressed again. No one came near the two
Frenchwomen, not even a maid to assist them in dressing for dinner. To keep hermaman's mind busy,
Tiri proposed that they help each other dress. “No one knows how to impart a touch of high fashion as
well as you do, Dani!"

The older woman immediately became more cheerful and began to mull happily over the choice of
costumes and the important question of whether a shawl might be worn to dinner.

“For it is already clear to me that Madame la Duchesse is a penny pincher and probably refuses to have
the fires lit unless it is snowing!"

As hermaman's mood lightened, Tiri found her own spirits sinking. How could they exist in this
mausoleum? Cold, stale air and ugly furniture one could endure, but the chilling lack of welcome, the
complete disregard of her mother's feelings, demonstrated by their hostess—these could freeze the soul!
Protective anger at her mother's predicament rose in Tiri's breast. High stickler the Duchess might be, but
she was neither poor nor solitary, and could provide more suitably for her guests. Moreover, the
Duchess had received a direct request from a reigning monarch—to welcome his personal friends. The
Monarch's slightest wish was equal to a command in his own country, and should be so in the country of
an ally. Tiri glanced around the comfortless rooms. Why was there no fire in the grate? Why had not hot
water been provided for their use? For that matter, where were the bouquets of flowers, the crystal
decanters of fine wine, the bonbons in elegant little china dishes, all of which had graced the guest rooms
in the Rue du Rhône? Were the English a race of barbarians? Glancing at her mother's lovely face, now
bent over a box of shawls, Tiri said with false brightness, “I am going to find a maid to help us."

“Why not just pull the bell rope, dearest?” murmured Dani.

“Like so much else in this place, it does not seem to be working,” replied Tiri crisply.

She went out into the dark hallway and walked down it toward a dim light which came from two candles
in a tarnished lamp. This feeble light marked a wide landing at the head of the staircase. The girl paused
to look down into the entrance hall just as the butler was opening the heavy front doors to admit a guest.
As the man walked in, he was illuminated by the light of a small chandelier. Tiri's breath caught in her
throat. He was the most beautiful young man she had ever seen.

He was wearing a green satin coat and white breeches. His hair was skillfully powdered and tied back
with a neat black bow at his nape. An emerald ring gleamed on one slender white hand. His features

were handsome, but there was a stubborn set to the well-cut lips. His expression, as far as Tiri could
read it, was complacent, even supercilious.He knows his worth, that one! she thought, and then:He
finds this dismal place amusing!

The man was speaking at some length, low-voiced, to the butler, and receiving obsequious answers. A
horrid thought struck Tiri. Why was the Duchess's butler so deferential to this newcomer? But if he were
the Duke!—

Without giving herself time to consider her action, Tiri called out sharply,"Arrêtez-vous, s'il vous plait!"

The man halted abruptly as she had commanded, and turned to see who had spoken. His eyes widened
as he stared up at the small, enchanting figure above him. Dani had chosen a gown of soft silk whose
color exactly matched Tiri's bright hair, and the girl made a colorful picture on the shadowy staircase.
After a moment the man asked, incredulously, “Areyou Madame la Comtesse?"

“I am Mademoiselle de Granville,” Tiri answered and began to descend the staircase toward him. “And
you, sir?"

The classic coldness of his face softened into amusement as he heard her challenge. “I am the Duke of
Lansdale,” he said, his deep voice touching Tiri's nerve-ends to quivering response.

“Then—then you must be our host,” she faltered, pausing just above him.

His smile widened a little unpleasantly, the girl thought. “No, I am as much a guest as yourself,” he said
coolly, “inthis house."

“But I understood—Is not this the home of the Duke?"

“The eighth duke—my father,” he corrected her. “It is my mother's residence. I live elsewhere in
London."

“Oh,” murmured Tiri, deflated. Her first pleasure in this handsome young man was rapidly dissipating.
Was the whole family of this unpleasant temperament? “Then why am I—why arewe here? Uncle Louis
committed us toyour care,” she said, with a flare of temper.

“Because I live in a bachelor establishment, quite unsuitable for a young lady and her mama,” the young
Duke told her with odious complacence. “To have a young woman, even one so highly sponsored, in my
own residence, would be to invite the whispers of all the busybodies in London, and stimulate the
matchmakers to a frenzy."

“Since that was presumably the purpose of this whole exercise,” Tiri said crisply, “I cannot see the harm.
You are, I believe, intended to present me to Their Majesties and to Society, and make sure I am
betrothed to an appropriateparti." She heard herself utter this rather callous statement with considerable
surprise. It was not normally her custom to speak so rudely, but something about this young nobleman
quite disturbed her poise.

He was, in fact, regarding her as though she had affronted his notions of good taste. “Is it always your
habit to speak so plainly?” he asked coldly. “I must warn you it will not do in English Society."

“Of course it is not,” Tiri retorted crossly. “It is just that I have had a perfectly horrid day in this gloomy
mausoleum—and ifthat affronts you, perhaps you might make a push to have your mama brighten up her

home.” She peered around the dark-shadowed hall with distaste. “It is no wonder you moved to another
mansion!"

He grinned wickedly. “Nasty place, isn't it? I moved out of it the day I became Duke. But you must
remain here, my ambitious little Frenchwoman, if you wish to catch yourself a husband! Oh, I'll do what's
required to present you, but not a move more, be warned of that! My mother will be responsible for
launching you upon the Ton."

“Then I am sunk already,” snapped Tiri waspishly. “Your mama has been rude and ungracious to my
mother and me. We have been left in a wretched, ugly room to our own devices, without a maid, or fire
... or warm water—” Her voice broke. The Duke thought with a twinge of remorse that she was much
younger than he had suspected, and more vulnerable. Knowing his mother, and the lack of amenities in
this house, he felt a certain sympathy with the girl. She was such a child!

The child was glaring at him with wrath-filled eyes.

“You are not at allgentil, Your Grace! I had expected that a friend of King Louis would be more
agréable!" She caught her breath on a tiny sob. “It is nothing to you or yourformidable maman that my
mother and I have had a desperate journey from Paris and are abandoned in a strange city at the mercy
of cold-hearted Englishpersons!"

“My dear Mademoiselle de Granville,” said the Duke in a voice of icy hauteur, “there are as many
different kinds ofpersons in England as there are among the French. Ignorance, malice, and prejudice are
not to be found solely in London. If you are to “take” at Almacks', you will have to strive for reticence,
self-control, and modesty! Even your pet name is an affront to English ears, and I hope you will not try to
use it!Poupée dorée!" he uttered in scornful accents.

“That name was given me, in affection, by King Louis!"

“I cannot believethat endeared you particularly to the high sticklers in His Majesty's Court,” said the
Duke with a pitying smile Tiri found detestable. “I must advise you not to boast of the casual favors of
Royalty, mademoiselle. They are two-edged."

“Unlike your own favors,” the girl lashed back, “which have only a killing thrust!"

The Duke surveyed the small defiant figure, the lovely face flushed with anger, the proud chin tilted.
Perhaps he also read the hurt in the depths of the big blue eyes, for when he spoke again, his voice held a
softer note.

“I came tonight to meet your mother and you, mademoiselle, and to make sure thatmy mother will put all
in train for your presentation to Their Majesties. There is a Drawing Room scheduled for next
week—and I have already spoken to King George's secretary and told him of your letter to His Majesty.
You may present it to the King after you make your curtsey."

Tiri drew a deep breath. The change in the Duke was almost too much for her to adjust to in so short a
time. Now his strange green eyes were warm with kindness, and his voice was deeper. “I thank you for
your thoughtfulness,” she managed.

The Duke smiled. “Your mama will know, I am sure, what costume isde rigueur for meeting one's
monarch. For yourself, of course, white.” He frowned. “But my mother will advise you.” Somehow he
seemed less than certain of that, and Tiri, thinking of her unwilling hostess, began to worry. “Your mama

does not really want us,” she said in a very low voice.

“Nonsense,” the Duke rallied her. “Believe me, she would far rather have you with her than with me!”
He grinned at some private joke.

Tiri got the feeling that she was in unknown territory; she felt she was being moved like a pawn by forces
she did not understand. She peered up into the Duke's handsome countenance, trying to discover what
sort of man lived behind that complacent mask. Once or twice tonight it had slipped a little. Tiri shivered
involuntarily. Most likely it was better to leave the mask alone, lest she unleash upon herself some new
unpleasantness.

The Duke was scrutinizing her face as closely as she scanned his. Suddenly he broke the contact and
stared around the somber drawing room with distaste.

“Does she never serve a dinner on time?” he asked of no one in particular.

“I am very hungry,” admitted Tiri.

“The food in this house leaves much to be desired,” warned the Duke.

Before she could comment upon this remarkably frank criticism, the door swung slowly open and Dani
stood framed against the gloom of the hall. Tiri could see at once that her mother had chosen tonight's
gown with considerable wisdom and restraint. It would not be proper for her to dazzle the dowager or
seek to outshine her! Dani wore a black, low-cut gown, to be sure, but it was modestly draped with a
shawl of lace so exquisitely sheer as to be almost a silken drift against the white shoulders. Her soft
golden hair was dressed simply, yet managed to set off her lovely face in a shimmering frame. Tiri heard
the Duke catch his breath, and a strange little thrill of resentment touched her.Why didn't he look at me
like that? she wondered, and stared at hermaman with critical eyes.

Dani took in the scene quickly. She moved gracefully forward, dropping an elegant small curtsey before
the man. “You are the Duke of Lansdale, I am sure,” she said softly. “My daughter Tiri and I are very
grateful for your patronage."

The Duke took the white hand she held out to him and bent his head over it, his cheeks flushing a little.

“Madame la Comtesse,” he said. “It is an unexpected pleasure to meet you."

Before another word could be said, a most shocking din broke out in the hall. The Duke spoke above it.
“Don't be frightened,mesdames, I beg of you. This is my mother's dinner call. My father brought the
gong from India on one of his trips. Mama has used it every day since it entered the house. I think my
father came to regret deeply his folly in bringing the accursed thing home—"

The loud clanging suddenly ceased, and his last words were clearly audible to the Duchess as she swept
into the room. She glared at her son.

“On the contrary, Daral, he often said it reminded him of me,” she snapped.

Dani's eyes widened, but otherwise she made no comment. The Duke, however, grinned sardonically.

“Just so."

His mama frowned at him. It was clear to the Frenchwomen that their hostess was not quickwitted, nor
particularly intelligent. Bestowing a slight nod on her two female guests, she ordered the Duke to escort
her into the dining room.

“You may follow us,” she said, at the last moment.

Dani and Tiri exchanged a glance, and the Duke's smile hardened.

The dinner was every bit as poor as the Duke had warned, and the conversation even less interesting.
Long before the wretched meal was over, both Dani and Tiri were wondering whether they could, by any
means, find another way to meet the King than under Lady Letitia's dubious sponsorship. When their
hostess finally gave the signal to withdraw, the Frenchwomen followed her silently back into the drawing
room, as exhausted as though they had walked ten miles.

“You may pour, Miss de Granville,” instructed the Duchess as they seated themselves around the small
tea table. “It will give me an opportunity to assess your social skills."

Put on her mettle by this sneering comment, Tiri began to dispense the muddy-looking coffee into small
cups. She had just finished a very creditable job when the door opened again and the Duke strolled in,
carrying a glass partly full of brandy.

“At least your tipple is acceptable,” he said, coming to seat himself beside Dani.

“You sent it to me yourself,” retorted his mother.

“Yes.” Her son agreed with the bitter little half-smile he reserved for her.

As they all drank coffee, Tiri thought she had never tasted so nasty a brew in such hostile company. The
Duke obviously disliked his mother, and she, for her part, seemed to dislike everyone. Tiri cast a
despairing glance at her mother.

Dani turned at once to her hostess. “I am sure you and your son will have much to discuss,” she began,
soft-voiced. “My little one and I have had a long day and are weary. May we be excused, Your Grace?"

The idea of being rid of her unwanted guests seemed to appeal to the Duchess; her manner was almost
pleasant as she bid them goodnight. They escaped thankfully.

When Fallow, the butler, had closed the doors carefully after the two Frenchwomen, the Duke faced his
mama with his cold half-smile.

“Now we are private,” he said, “you shall tell me exactly how you intend to launch Mademoiselle into
the Ton."

The dowager gave him a resentful look. “You well know I cannot afford—” she began in a whining tone.

“You would prefer I asked another lady to be Mademoiselle de Granville's sponsor and my hostess?"

His mama glared at him. He had her, the devil, and he knew it! She must keep a hand on the helm of this
debut, in the faint hope that he might indeed decide to offer for Bridget. “The reception will have to be in
your new house, Daral. This place would need too much refurbishing—"

“Agreed on both counts,” said her son, glancing around at the shabby gloom with obvious distaste. Then
he shocked his mother by adding, “Since the King and Queenmay honor us, and Prinny certainly will."

“You will get no one who matters to meet these French adventuresses,” Letitia predicted spitefully.

The Duke grinned. “A girl received at Court? Sponsored by a reigning monarch? With a title older than
that of the current House? You must be jesting!” He regarded her frustration genially. “I have let slip a
few tantalizing hints of the Romantic Escape from France into the right ears—Prinny's and Lady Sally
Jersey's. Both are agog. Oh, there'll be no refusals of this invitation, Mama! And it will be a Grand Ball,
not a reception. Too paltry!” His patronizing smile set his angry mother's teeth on edge.

“Who is to pay for all this? The food, extra servants, the wines? And of course,” she added viciously,
“new finery and accouterments for your female hangers-on!"

The Duke exhaled a breath of disgust. “So verycommon, my dear Mama, this eternal absorption in
pounds, shillings, and pence! One would think the Malls had been in trade. No,” he snapped, when she
would have protested, “spare me your bile! I shall have Ian Campbell supply you with enough of the
ready to deck both our guests and yourself in newfinery."

He took his leave very formally, and so quickly that his mama was denied the opportunity to bicker with
him over his shortcomings.

CHAPTER 4

Unfortunately for them, Dani and Tiri had not heard the Duke's rather cynical offer to supply them with
suitable costumes for their Presentation at Court and for the Great Ball which was to honor
Mademoiselle de Granville. Since, for her own reasons, the Duchess made no effort to acquaint them
with His Grace's generosity, Dani was left with the challenge of providing four elegant costumes from
their meager resources.

Tiri was appalled at the penny-pinching behavior of their English host.

"Ma pauvre petite,"her mother soothed her, “you must see we are less than nothing to this Duke and
his unpleasant mama! They have been forced to receive us into their household, yes; but no one has
commanded that they supply us with clothing."

“If only you had not spurned Uncle Louis's offer of money,Maman!" Tiri fretted. “Not for gowns to
impress our new associates, for I am sure we have prettier dresses in our trunks, and of greater style than
anything this benighted town has seen! But for your own protection and security, dearest Dani. I am sure
Uncle Louis would not wish to see us destitute in this foreign land!Quel dommage!"

Dani was not prepared to agree that the situation was quite as injurious or detrimental as Tiri alleged.
“We have two trunks full of modish costumes beautiful enough to dazzle our rivals at Versailles,” she
reminded Tiri. “I am sure we can contrive to present an appearance that will charm and impress these
rather lesssoignée English ladies."

“One hopes you have reason,” Tiri said gloomily.

Hermaman hastened to reassure her. “Hilary was telling me about the Court of English George. They
are not excessively àla mode, he says. In fact, they are dowdy.” Dani giggled naughtily. “Hilary says we

shall create a sensation!"

Hilary says.Tiri frowned. “When did Sir Hilary impart all this information to you,Maman?"

Dani smiled self-consciously. “He called at our hotel to consult with me—after you had retired."

Tiri regarded her delightful, exasperating little mother with deep foreboding. “I wondered why he had
been so generous as to obtain separate rooms for us,” she said. “Next he will be offering to lend us
money."

Dani chuckled. “He already has, my little doll.” She met Tiri's shocked stare coolly. “Hilary was afraid
we would be embarrassed without a few pounds for veils and—emergencies in a strange city.” Her
lovely face hardened. “Since I intend becoming Lady Conray as soon as you are settled, I had no
reluctance in accepting his kindness."

“But you refused to take asou from Uncle Louis!” protested Tiri.

“I did not expect to marryhim."

Since this seemed unanswerable, Tiri went over to the massive wardrobe, opened it, and examined their
slender store of costumes. “For the Presentation, will you wear the gold satin and your topazes?"

Dani pursed her rosy lips, immediately diverted by the challenge of deciding upon a suitable gown for the
occasion. “No, that is my most effective costume. I shall save it for the Duke's ball. Every grande dame in
the Ton will be present, eager to criticize the French interlopers, and equally eager to discover what is the
latest fashion—le dernier cri!-from Paris! So, for the ball, the gold, the topazes, and I shall leave my hair
unpowdered. At my age, it's my best feature. Who knows, I may even start a new style!"

Dani preened in the mirror as she carefully brushed the golden luxuriance of her hair. “Such a pity to hide
it with white dust!” She handed the brush to Tiri, who began a soothing stroking of her mother's crowning
glory.

“For Their Majesties’ Drawing Room,” Dani was musing, “I think something very restrained, no? The
black velvet gown, the diamonds Louis gave me long ago. My hair?Poudrée, I think.En grand tenue,
yes, but discreet."

“You will look beautiful, as you always do,” Tiri said sincerely. “Now what have you planned for me?"

“For the Presentation, white, of course. Veryingénue, yet exquisite. Your hair powdered. A single white
rose at your corsage. Or should it be pink?"

Alas, it was discovered that Tiri's only white dress was too small. Dani quirked a teasing eyebrow. “La,
la! The little golden doll is growing up!"

Tiri was happy to see that there was no trace of jealousy in her mother's laughter. It was one of the most
disarming things about Dani: her complete lack of envy or resentment at another woman's beauty or
charm. But the problem could become a disaster. It wasde rigueur that a youthfuldébutante wear white.
Mother and daughter stared at one another.

Then a mischievous sparkle appeared in Dani's fine large eyes. “I brought with me—for old time's
sake—that negligée which Louis bought me soon after we met."

Tiri's eyes went wide."Maman! You didn't bringthat?"

Dani's chiming laugh rang out. “I couldn't resist it! If anything would reconcile me to leaving him, it is that
... creation!"

She was busily burrowing among the delicate lace and silk undergarments which filled two deep drawers
in the massive low-boy. “Ah! here it is!” She shook out a robe of a silk so fine it could pass through a
ring. It was exquisite, delicate, pure and shining white. But it had been made into arobe de chambre, a
dressing gown of quite startling suggestiveness. Soft lace draped the low-cut décolletage; the material
was cut so as to cling closely to Dani's bosom. The enormously full skirt also clung and swayed erotically
to its wearer's movements.

Tiri could not repress a laugh."Maman, if I were foolish enough to wear that to a Royal Presentation,
we would both have to leave London before dawn!"

“But you don't yet understand my plan,” coaxed Dani. “When we first came to Paris, I made all our
clothing. It is the one talent I possess—well, one of the two,” she amended naughtily. “I propose to make
this absurd bit of frivolity serve a useful purpose at last. Put it on,petite!" She proceeded to drape the
too-large garment upon the reluctant Tiri.

To the girl's surprise, the bodice of the gown, too tight on Dani, draped her own more youthful figure
with a soft innocence. Dani nodded decisively. “This lace—there is so much of it, and it is as fine as
gossamer! I shall remove it and make a demure fichu—very charming andingénue. Then this voluminous
skirt can easily be doubled to make the thickness we need, and still be roomy enough to fall softly."

“With a heavy underskirt, I trust,” said Tiri primly. The lush femininity of the garment was making her a
little self-conscious.

Dani cast her a questioning look. “You sounded exactly like your father as you said that,” she remarked.

Tiri colored. “I'm sorry,Maman! I do not mean to be pompous or crabbed, I assure you!"

Dani sent a forgiving smile. “Nor are you,ma chérie. It is a time of strain for both of us. But we shall
contrive, I promise you! There is so much of this exquisite lace in the train that I can cover the whole
gown with an overlay of it. Delicious!"

Tiri was relieved to find her mother facing the challenges so creatively. It had been this optimistic,
cheerful attitude which had so captivated King Louis. Nothing depressed Dani for very long.

“Now you have only to contrive another gown for me for the Grand Ball, and we shall be—"

“As fine as fivepence,” finished her mother.

Then the two women looked smilingly at one another, and in a chorus they repeated, “As Hilary says!"

CHAPTER 5

The presentation of Madame la Comtesse de Granville and her daughter Therese was a most successful
fire-off. King George, looking benevolently at the charming picture made by the two elegant

Frenchwomen, was pleased to welcome them and even mentioned his fellow monarch in glowing, if
stilted, terms. Queen Charlotte's doubts were assuaged by the widow's somber gown and the powder
which suitably dimmed the lustrous gold of the Countess's hair. No fault could be found, even by the
highest sticklers, with either the appearance or the demeanor of the daughter. Mademoiselle de Granville,
enchanting in soft white silk and lace, a single pure white rosebud holding together her demure fichu, kept
her eyelids lowered for the most part, and her long eyelashes gently shadowed her cheeks. She was
introduced to sixteen-year-old Princess Mary whose doting papa thought she might enjoy meeting the
French child. Mary was so charmed that she went out of her way to talk to Tiri and make her welcome
to England. There was something so wistful about the little Princess that Tiri's warm heart went out to her,
and they enjoyed a very comfortable coze, the Royal Parents looking on complaisantly at the new
friendship.

The Duke was pleasantly surprised at both the appearance and the behavior of his unwelcome guests. In
fact, he thought ruefully, they make my poor mama look ridiculous! It was true the Duchess was not at
her best. Her chagrin at the success of the hangers-on had quite spoiled for her this chance to hobnob
with Royalty at no expense to herself. She was not included in the Royal Circle, nor even among the
regular frequenters of the Court. She was making the most of this occasion by preening in the gown for
which she had spent every penny of the money Daral had given her for all three costumes. It had not
been a wise choice. In fact, several ladies had already shared their amusement at the style and colors the
Duchess had chosen.

The instant success of her unwanted house-guests was irking Lady Letitia. She longed to whisper just a
hint or two of scandal about the ridiculously youthful-looking widow, and indeed was even scanning the
chattering groups to find an ear when she caught sight of the Duke's austere and warning expression.

He knows what I intended,the thought stabbed at her. In fact, her son now strolled over to her side,
and said, smiling, “I think not, dear Mama. The consequences to yourself and to our family honor would
be too devastating. And I should never forgive you such a public embarrassment."

The Presentation was concluded within a few more minutes, and the Duke, resplendent in a gold satin
coat which exactly matched his eyebrows—for his hair, of course, was powdered-led his mama and their
two guests from the room as soon as the Royal Party had withdrawn. When they were safely in his new,
luxurious coach, he gave an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“That was a close-run thing,” he remarked, smiling coldly at his mother. “I was sure you intended
opening your budget to Lady Jersey."

Dani did not understand this reference, but she was pleased at the way they had been received, and
wanted to soften a strangely tense moment. “May Tiri and I thank you for your most generous and
gracious sponsorship?” she asked, in her soft voice.

“You both did me proud,” said the Duke. “What I cannot believe is that any English dressmaker could
have fashioned such extremely suitable and becoming garments in the few days you had to prepare
yourselves."

“Oh, these were gowns we brought with us,” said Dani quickly. “As long as they pleased you, Your
Grace, we are satisfied."

The Duke turned a sardonic eye upon his mama's less tasteful garment. When she refused to meet his
look, he said softly, “May I dare to hope that you are as excellently prepared for the ball I am giving in
your honor next week?"

“Oh, yes,” smiled Dani. “We thought it would not matter that our dresses were not new, since of course
they will be new to everyone who sees them here in London.”And in very much better style than
anything we have yet observed here, she thought, but had too much courtesy to say it.

The Duchess, aware that a reckoning loomed ahead for her, made haste to introduce a pleasanter
subject. “The Princess Mary seemed much taken with your daughter, madame,” she said to Dani. “It
could be an advantage to you to promote the friendship."

“She was very pleasant,” agreed Tiri, “and I think, very lonely."

“She is not at all well,” the Duchess informed them. “Her father is said to dote upon her, as on all his
daughters, and is quite medieval in his care of them. I hear the girls call their quarters ‘The Nunnery.’”

“We have heard the King is a strict but loving father,” said Dani. It seemed to her that she was always
feeling compelled to intervene at awkward moments. The relationship between mother and son was a
bitter one. Dani wished that Louis had fobbed them off on a more gentle family. She sighed.

Tiri, who had been as aware as hermaman had been of the undercurrents of antagonism which flowed
constantly between her hostess and the Duke, was wishing much the same thing. Still, it would not be
forever. ForMaman's sake she could endure it. She set her mind to think of the things she could do for
Dani once she was safely wedded to some acceptableparti. This led to the less welcome speculation as
to the personal qualities of the saidparti. What if she disliked him? Even hated him? Even more
demeaning, what if no one offered? Sunk in these wretched musings, she was quite unconscious that the
Duke had transferred his searching scrutiny to her down-bent face.

“You were not pleased, mam'selle?” he challenged. They had heard a good deal of soft talk from the
mother; he wondered what the daughter had to say for herself.

Tiri faced his scrutiny bravely. “I was most happy to talk with the Princess. She is a sweet girl, and
seemed eager to talk about Paris. Her papa, she tells me, does not believe in any of his children traveling.
There was much she wished to know."

“I hope you did not say anything damaging,” sneered the Duchess.

Tiri colored and fell silent.

Again Dani sprang into the breach. “I was presented to the Prince of Wales,” she said chattily. “He
seems a pleasant and warm-hearted young man."

“Oh, as to that,” the Duchess could not repress the taunt, “he is known to have an especiallywarm heart
toward—older women!” and she gave a malicious titter.

This gaucherie effectively silenced conversation for the rest of the mercifully short drive to the Duchess's
gloomy mansion. The Duke, meticulous in escorting all three ladies within doors, took his leave with
unflattering promptness. Since neither Dani nor Tiri had any stomach for the unpleasant company of their
hostess, they begged at once to be excused and hurried upstairs to their uncomfortable suite. To their
surprise, a fire had been laid in their cavernous grate, and they were scarcely inside the door when a
gentle tapping heralded the arrival of Mrs. Dodge, the housekeeper, with a small tray of hot cocoa and
some biscuits. It was meager fare, but they fell on it with thanks, having been too nervous to eat well of
the miserable collation served at lunch. Mrs. Dodge came back for the tray, and her unusual behavior

caused Tiri to think the housekeeper had news to impart. She was correct.

“It's His Grace,” the woman began, holding the tray in front of her like a shield, and glancing over her
shoulder as though expecting an invading army to come through the door. “He wishes you and your
daughter, ma'am, to come to his new house for dinner tomorrow night. Just so as you can get to know
the place before the ball. He feels it would be more comfortable."

“That's kind of him,” stated Tiri in a voice which revealed her surprise.

“Will there be many guests?” asked Dani, her eyes beginning to sparkle.

“Just you two, I'm told,” the woman muttered. “His Grace asked me not to tell the Duchess."

“But if Lady Letitia is not to accompany us, how shall we get there?” asked Tiri practically.

“Her Grace goes out to play cards with some other members of her family tomorrow night. When he
learned you ladies were not included in the invitation, he decided to entertain you himself. He instructed
me to tell you he would send a carriage at eight o'clock, by which time Her Grace should be on her way
to Lady Mall's."

Tiri's expression revealed clearly what she thought of such a shab-rag family, but she pressed her lips
firmly together. When the housekeeper had slipped out the door with a conspiratorial air that sent Dani
off into giggles, Tiri said sternly, “It is not laughable,Maman, it is deplorable!"

“Better to laugh than weep,” advised Dani, becoming more sober. “Well, my poppet, the Presentation
went off tolerably well, I thought. You were in great beauty, my dear one. Everyone's eyes were drawn
to the lovely French rose. Had I been able to get lilies, I might have made you truly representational of
our beloved France!"

Tiri chuckled. “I'd best be thankful for small mercies!"

Dani became thoughtful. “So we are to go to dine with His Grace tomorrow night,” she mused. “I
wonder what he has in that devious mind of his?"

“You don't like him?” ventured the girl.

Dani pursed her lips. “I believe I am a little in fear of him,” she admitted. “He has all the
determination—self-will, rather—of his mama, yet he is so charming—"

“The Duke? Charming?” protested Tiri. “How can you say so?” Then, more lightly, “I thought you were
under the spell of another man.” She could not understand her own reluctance to accept the fact that the
Duke was to become another victim to her beautiful mother's allure. She hated the arrogant, unpleasant,
cold, unwelcoming man!—But she didn't want him to follow Dani with besotted or lecherous eyes, as so
many had done.

Dani was frowning at her daughter's evident distress. “What is it,poupée? Have I done something to hurt
you?"

“No, of course not,Maman. It was only that I had not realized you had changed your affections from
Hilary to the Duke."

“But I have not, foolish one! Sir Hilary is the only man I have ever met whom I truly desire to wed. I
merely remarked that His Grace has charm—and fortitude too, to endure that she-witch who is his
mother! Do you hate him so much?"

“He hates me,” said the girl a little wearily. “And despises me, too. I am a burden he cannot wait to be
rid of!"

Dani scanned the small, desolate countenance carefully, but said nothing more about their reluctant host.

The following evening, all went smoothly at first. The Duchess went to her card party, dropping the
announcement of her intentions casually as the three women shared a cup of tea and biscuits in the
cavernous drawing room. She seemed a little piqued at her guests’ lack of response to her cavalier
announcement, but she shrugged and left them sitting there when she retired to change her dress for the
party.

When she was safely out the door, the two Frenchwomen hastily changed their own charming day
dresses for apparel more suitable to a formal dinner.

“We shall not lower our standards, my dear—at least, as long as our present wardrobes are fit to wear,”
she concluded ruefully.

She was looking particularly radiant tonight, Tiri thought, in a pretty gown of lavender silk over cream
sprigged muslin: a dress few other women of her age could have worn without looking absurd. On Dani it
was adorable, Tiri decided, scanning her own russet velvet with critical eyes.

“It sets off your hair superbly,” hermaman advised. Neither of them had bothered to powder their lovely
locks for this private dinner.

They were scarcely ready when Mrs. Dodge came up to announce that the Duke's carriage was at the
door. “You both look very nice, ma'am, if you'll pardon my taking the liberty to say so,” she added, with
little grace but real sincerity. Dani's lovely smile seemed to repay her for the compliment, and she bobbed
them an awkward curtsey as they left their rooms.

The drive to Grosvenor Square was short, and they were impressed by the myriad lanterns, flambeaux,
and candles that seemed to illuminate the handsome building both within and without. A red carpet
stretched across the damp flagstones, and two footmen were waiting to escort His Grace's guests into the
impressive front hall.

There the butler took charge and led them into a drawing room which quite took Tiri's breath away. Her
host, catching the wide-eyed stare, was forced to suppress a grin. He welcomed his guests pleasantly
enough, and informed them that they would proceed to the dining room without loss of time, since he
wanted them to be safely back at Mall House before his mother returned.

The Duke had them seated around a small round table and he waited until the first course had been
served before broaching the reason for the invitation.

Dani had just finished murmuring a compliment upon the excellence of thePotage à la Monglas. “Louis
loves this soup,” she said. “Your chef is to be congratulated."

His Grace brushed the compliment aside. “It is important that we discuss our business while the servants
are out of the room,” he began. “You will have noticed, of course, that I signaled them to leave after the

soup was served. It may be our only chance to be private away from my mother or her spies before the
ball."

Tiri gaped at her host. “Your mother sets spies upon you?” she breathed.

“I know of at least one footman who reports to her regularly. I permit this so that I can know whom to
watch. However, that is not to the point. I would like a full and honest summary of your real purpose in
coming to England.” As he caught the astounded glances they exchanged he laughed harshly. “Already
Mr. Pitt has had a report that you may be here as the agents for some faction of Louis's court, or even
the revolutionary forces which threaten him. I must ask you if this is, in fact, correct."

“We are here because King Louis wished to be rid of the embarrassment of my presence at Court,”
Dani stated quietly, her fine eyes fixed steadily upon the Duke's face.

His expression softened. “I believe you,” he said, more gently than was his wont. “From all that I have
observed, you are here to make an advantageous marriage for your daughter, and in some way establish
yourself in England. In this endeavor I am willing to help you, especially since you both behaved with
elegance and decorum at your presentation to Their Majesties. Princess Mary took a decided fancy to
Mademoiselle de Granville—and Prinny had his eye upon you, madame. I had better warn you,” he
added in a lowered voice, “that encouraging our Prince will lead you to social disaster."

“I have not encouraged him,” protested Dani. “I could hardly walk away while he was speaking to me!"

“A woman of your talent?” mocked the Duke. “I am sure you have handled noblemen more adept than
our Prinny!"

“I happen to be—committed to another man,” Dani said slowly. “When Tiri is settled..."

“Good,” said the Duke heartily.

Further private conversation was suspended until the covers had been removed and a second course
offered.

When they were alone again, Dani returned to the battle. “I wonder if I might ask a favor of Your
Grace,” she began. “There is a certain minor nobleman whom we would like to see at your ball.” Her
courage seemed to escape her under his suddenly hardening glance.

“And who might this ... minor nobleman be?"

“His name is Hilary Conray,” said Dani.

The Duke did not miss Tiri's gasp and her glance of warning at her mother. He drew his own
conclusions. They did not seem to be pleasant ones, from the expression upon his face.

“Conray? Hilary? I think I may have heard of him.” He cast a disapproving glance at Tiri. “If I may offer
a suggestion, madame, I would urge you not to select Sir Hilary Conray as aparti for Mademoiselle."

Now it was Dani's turn to suffer surprise. She opened her mouth to enlighten her host, and then seemed
to think better of it. Instead she asked, rather humbly, “Is there something wrong ... something notcomme
il faut, about Sir Hilary?"

“He is not theparti for a young girl with her way to make in Polite Society,” he said shortly. “I can
promise nothing, of course, but I hope to be able to introduce your daughter to more acceptable
aspirants for her hand."

“What is wrong with Sir Hilary?” Tiri could not resist demanding. Her poor mother was looking so
deflated that she sprang naturally to her defense. Unfortunately the Duke thought that she was offended
by an imagined slur upon her beloved. He glanced at the girl with strong disapproval.

“There is nothing really wrong with the fellow,” he said brusquely. “He is a Scotsman, poor, a wandering
sort of adventurer. Not at all the type to settle comfortably into matrimony."

His lips curled in mockery at the suddenly depressed look upon both lovely faces. He went on speaking
in that dry tone Tiri hated. “Perhaps it might also be well to warn you that the Prince of Wales is
notorious for his susceptibility to beautiful, knowledgeable matrons older than himself."

The attention of both ladies was now sharply fixed upon the Duke. Tiri wondered if the English prince
had decided to use this nobleman to convey an offer to the French countess. She was quickly reassured,
as His Grace continued, “Prinny considers himself to be a romantic, with a soft heart for lovers and a
right to pry into anyone's private business. He has indicated to me that he would be pleased if I were to
offer for Mademoiselle de Granville."

Surprise and incredulity were plain to read upon the women's faces. Smiling sardonically, the Duke
awaited their comments.

Tiri spoke first. “You cannot be serious?” she breathed. “How much control over you has this idiot?"

His Grace's mocking smile faded. He had, of course, neither the desire nor the intention of martrying the
little French girl, yet in the face of her angry revulsion he felt a prick of annoyance and something else he
did not identify. He knew himself to be a rich prize in the Matrimonial Stakes, and although he was no
coxcomb, he could not fail to realize his worth: well-born, wealthy, and good to look upon. Lady Bridget
Mall was not the only young woman who persistently pursued him. Why, then, was this little French chit
so angry at the idea of an arranged marriage with him? Mostdébutantes would have given a good deal to
have Prinny trying to push the Duke of Lansdale into matrimony with them.

“He has no control over me at all,” he answered her question. “I had thought the idea might amuse
you-as it did me.” That should show her! “You probably should be warned that he may make some
heavy-handed and fairly urgent proposals to your mama. In his own behalf,” he added nastily.

“I can deal with him,” promised Dani, anxious to change the subject before Tiri gave away any secrets.
“Was there anything else you felt we should know, Your Grace?"

“I wondered whether my mother had given you the funds set aside for your expenses during the
Season."

Dani's expression was wary. Had he learned in some devious way of Hilary's generous gesture? “Funds,
sir? From what source?"

“Does it matter? You have received them?"

“No.” The less said here, the better.

The man's features darkened. “I feared as much. I shall make inquiries."

“We—we do not need your money,” objected Tiri.

“Who said it was mine?” challenged the Duke. He regarded her with disfavor. “You have a great deal to
say, for so young a girl! Is this forward behavior the style in Paris?"

Tiri set her teeth against an angry retort. “I am sorry if I have offended your sense of propriety,” she
managed to say.

Dani smothered a smile. They were like two children bickering. Tiri seemed to have taken the man in
strong dislike. She considered the Prince's suggestion that Granville make Tiri an offer. It was not so
absurd an idea, in her judgment, as the Duke had implied. She said quietly, “If there is nothing more to
discuss, Your Grace, perhaps Tiri and I should be returning to Mall House."

They went out into the magnificent hall, where six footmen in powdered wigs stood statuelike against the
paneled walls, and the butler himself had the ladies’ light cloaks ready.

“Your home is delightful,” murmured Dani, offering her hand to be kissed.

“Thank you for a most pleasant evening,” said Tiri in a too-sweet voice. She was not going to invite
another set-down from the hateful nobleman on the subject of her manners.

CHAPTER 6

As the day of the Duke's Grand Ball approached, it became clear that the Beau Monde was aware of
the dazzling new star which had appeared upon the scene. The Royal Family spoke well of the French
girl's modesty and beauty. One heard that Princess Mary had asked her royal papa to invite the girl to
visit her. Invitations began to arrive at Mall House in increasing numbers, to the Duchess's mingled
chagrin and pleasure. Gentlemen, and a few ladies, came to call. Among the latter were Lady Bridget and
her mama, Letitia's life-long friend, who was tetchy at the idea that Letitia had not warned her of this
newcomer she was sponsoring.

Attending upon his mother and sister was Lord Bertram Mall. He was much inferior in appeal to His
Grace the Duke of Lansdale, decided Tiri who had been haled down with her mama to meet the guests.
He was rather a dandy and seemed a little too conscious of his elaborate get-up. Still, he was jovial and
attentive, and he uttered so many little compliments that Tiri felt more at ease than she had yet found
herself in English Society.

While Lady Mall and Bridget chatted with the Countess, Bertram settled himself for a quick conquest of
the little French girl. He was not yet sure of her dowry—Mama was investigating that aspect and could
be trusted to track it down to the last farthing. The girl's appearance, on the other hand, was such as to
cause him to dismiss the apprehensions he had felt when his indomitable mama had instructed him to pay
court to the French miss so she would not trap the Duke. The Duke was to be Bridget's. Mama and
Lady Letitia had long planned that. His rather moist glance moved over the small, pretty face and down
to the sweetly budding breasts and slender waist, all set off by a morning dress of style and charm.
Bertram's mama and sister never looked so well when surprised at home by early visitors. Bertram licked
his lips. This was not going to be so bad! He began to follow his mother's careful instructions.

“I say, mam'selle, you must promise me several dances for the Duke's Ball! Three, at least? Youcan do

the English dances, can you not?” he asked, suddenly alarmed at the idea of standing up with a stumbling
girl.

Tiri, who was both amused and slightly scornful of this foppish visitor, smiled artlessly. “After a fashion,
good sir! But I am sure you can teach me!"

Visions of stumbling around the floor and disrupting the ordered sequences of the dances flashed through
Lord Bertram's head, and he wished heartily that he had never been dragooned into this embarrassing
situation.

He was rescued by Lady Letitia, who missed very little of what went on in her drawing room. “Of
course she can dance, Bertram! She and her mother have beenhabituées of the French Court, where
dancing and such frivolities are of paramount importance!"

This set-down effectively silenced conversation for a moment, and then into the breach stepped Lady
Bridget who asked maliciously, “I suppose the dear Duke has provided you both with funds for costumes
while you are his mama's guests?"

“On the contrary,” said Tiri firmly, “we came prepared with costumes from the finest modistes of Paris. I
am sure you would know of them, since you are wearing a dress which was very muchà la mode in
Paris—several years ago."

Into the silence which followed this statement, Tiri added gently, “We fund ourselves, miss."

Very shortly after this, the guests took their leave, and the Duchess, looking put out, was opening her
mouth to give Tiri a thundering set-down when the butler announced Sir Hilary Conray. Lady Letitia's
glance sharpened as she beheld the effect this name had upon her house guests. She told Fallow to show
the gentleman in at once.

Three pairs of eyes faced Sir Hilary as he entered the gloomy drawing room. His poor little Dani was
looking at him as though he were a knight in armor, come to rescue her from a dragon. The formidable
dowager who rose to greet him qualified perfectly for the menacing role, beginning to bullock him before
he had finished paying his addresses to the ladies.

“Are you a friend of my guests, sir? I think I have not met you in Society."

“I have been much abroad,” admitted Sir Hilary, with a charming smile which had absolutely no effect
upon the Duchess, whatever it may have done for Dani, over whose hand he was bowing at the moment.
“I was recruited by William Pitt to be sure these ladies reached London safely,” he said pleasantly. “It is
important that King Louis's ambassadors of good will be comfortably settled in England.” Then, apropos
of nothing, he added, “Princess Mary was delighted to meet a new friend.” And he bestowed an
approving smile upon Tiri.

Daunted but not defeated, Lady Letitia tried to probe further into her visitor's antecedents and pedigree.
He fended off her prying so adroitly that Dani and Tiri cast admiring looks in his direction, although Tiri
thought his evasive skills betokened a misspent youth.

“I have never heard of Conray,” snapped the frustrated Duchess at length.

“It is a minor title,” Hilary admitted. “I am a younger son—the third, in fact, and must make do with the
small estate."

When his hostess would have asked him his father's name, he affected not to hear her and begged Dani
and Tiri to save him at leastone dance at the Duke's Ball, “I well know,” he admitted with a humorous
look, “that I have no hope of more time with so popular a pair as the de Granvilles will be!” After this
graceful tribute, he rose and took his departure in due form, leaving a fuming Lady Letitia to quiz the
women about him.

She had no luck in that department, either, for Dani and Tiri, grateful for a friend and partisan in this
bleak fortress, nimbly avoided the direct questions and went into panegyrics over Sir Hilary's
competence, kindness, and good style. They excused themselves as quickly as possible, “in order to see
what we can do about costumes for the Duke's Ball. We must depend upon the clothes we brought from
France, you know,” Dani added, her expression hinting that she was well aware that the Duchess had
preempted the funds provided for the guests’ comfort.

Since this was exactly the case, Lady Letitia was forced to let her unwelcome house guests go to their
suite without further harassment.

As a matter of fact, the Frenchwomen were facing a problem greater than Dani had admitted. Their
clothing was elegant and strikingly beautiful, but there was only so much of it in the two trunks. Their
immediate concern was that Tiri did not have another white dress for the Duke's Ball. Hermaman had
not felt it necessary for her to appear always in white, since she had not yet been formally introduced to
Louis's Queen and probably never would be. Both mother and daughter had been noted, even in that
style-conscious Court, as dressing in elegance and good taste, and although they were sometimes
innovative, they were never bold or in poor style. As a result, Tiri would be forced to weara second time
the dress she had worn for her Presentation—or wear a color.

Dani fretted. “I wish I had had the opportunity to discuss this with Hilary! He is knowledgeable, that
one! He could tell us if it is afaux pas for a young girl to wear a soft pastel at her first ball!"

“But who is to know it is my first ball?” asked Tiri, with logic. She held up a delicate amber silk, bound
close beneath the bosom with russet velvet ribbons—a softly flowing garment which flattered her girlish
slenderness. The color made a glowing complement to her lovely hair. “No powder, Maman, do you
think? After all, much must be permitted a little French girl!"

“Not so much of that little girl,” teased Dani. “We are trying to get you settled with a suitableparti."

Tiri looked suddenly lost and irresolute. “Are we,Maman? Do you think it will be possible? Sometimes
my courage fails a little!"

“As would anyone's, in this horrid cavern!” her mother comforted her gently."Toujours l'audace, ma
poupée dorée!"

Tiri, feeling one thousand years old, smiled reassuringly back at her naive, volatile littlemaman. She must
not permit herself to give way to despair.Mariages de convenance were arranged every day, in France
as well as in England. Only the woman usually had more than an ancient name to offer! Perhaps some
jumped-upnouveau riche would be willing to accept a bride who could bring him nothing but a flawless
lineage? Would any such upstart be found in the Duke's circle? She doubted it.

Her doubt was not relieved by remarks made by the Duchess at the dinner table that evening. The meal
was tasteless. Were there no great chefs in England? Or was their hostess too penny-pinching to hire
one? For some reason, the Duchess was more gracious than usual. She spoke at some length of the

elegant company to be expected at her son's ball.

“No one would think of refusing an invitation from Daral,” she announced complacently. “It would not
matter who was the guest to be honored!"

This less than subtle thrust received its due reward. Dani had the fierce protectiveness of a female tiger
where Tiri was concerned. “They will all be eager to see His Grace's imposing new home,” she agreed.
“Haveyou seen it yet, ma'am?"

That was taking the battle into the enemy's territory, since it was common knowledge that the Duke had
not yet invited his mother to see the new Lansdale House.

Really,raged the Duchess,these French hangers-on are unbearable! She would deflate their
pretensions in some manner! “Lady Bridget, who will be a guest, is my son's fiancée,” she announced
with more venom than accuracy. She cast a meaningful glance at Tiri. “I would not have your daughter
get her hopes up without cause,” she smiled.

“Tiri? Oh, you need fear nothing in that quarter, ma'am!” Dani said cheerfully. “Your son and my
daughter are hard put to be civil to one another!” She matched smile for smile. “Tiri is, of course,
accustomed to the—ah—greater civility of manner of the French aristocracy. We both find the English
plain-speaking—ah—interesting."

After this clincher, talk was restricted to a bare minimum, chiefly the Duchess singing Lady Bridget's
praises. It was with almost unseemly eagerness that the Frenchwomen craved permission to retire. “No
matter how comfortless these rooms are,” Dani sighed, sinking onto her bed, “they are preferable to
another hour spent in That Woman's company!"

“Do you think—the Duke and Lady Bridget?...” asked Tiri, looking anywhere but at hermaman.

Dani frowned. “Have you atendre in that direction, child? I fear such a campaign would prove difficult.
Not impossible, of course!” she amended swiftly, with a glance at the forlorn little face before her.

Tiri changed her stance immediately. “I would not consider an offer from His Grace!” she protested too
vehemently.

“There would be advantages,” argued hermaman. “You would never be bored."

Tiri, rather surprised at the feature her mother had selected to persuade her, was forced to agree. She
might be infuriated, yes; even desolated by the nobleman's set-downs and snubs; but she would never be
bored. She prepared for bed silently.

Hermaman refrained from talking. Let the child make up her own mind. It was not an easy road which
Tiri must travel.

CHAPTER 7

On the morning of the day of the Duke's Grand Ball, flowers and gifts began to arrive for Dani and Tiri.
One particularly lovely basket of deep red roses bore Sir Hilary's card; his name was also on a pretty
basket of white violets for Tiri. For a time, the dark hallway resembled a flower stall, crowded with
boxes, baskets and posies.

The Duke, rather surprisingly, had sent flowers and a dainty gift to each of his mother's house guests.
Dani's gift was a splendid pair of sapphire earrings which almost matched her eyes. Tiri, scrutinizing them
jealously, made haste to open her own small velvet box. It contained a gold link bracelet, set with
sapphires.

“He bought the set,” remarked Tiri, unforgivably, “and then divided it between us."

Dani made no reply, but her silence was so accusing that Tiri ran to her and hugged her remorsefully.
“Forgive me,maman!" she begged. “I was jealous!"

This open avowal of her daughter's hopeless affection for the Duke softened her mother's attitude. “It is
not like you to speak so,ma petite," she acknowledged. “Sometimes it hurts very much, thisamour,
does it not?"

They fell to admiring one another's gifts, of which there were several besides the Duke's sapphires. Lord
Bertram had sent a rather ugly enameled box for Tiri. “His mama probably chose it,” commented Dani,
and Tiri chuckled reprehensibly.

It seemed that the Duke was sending a carriage to pick up the three ladies from Mall House and bring
them betimes to his own home. “We shall have to form the receiving line,” the Duchess instructed them
needlessly. Dani let the remark pass, and they were soon receiving the careful attention of His Grace's
excellent butler and footmen. The Duke greeted them cordially, very much the master of his own house.
He praised Dani's appearance, but while his intent scrutiny lost no detail of Tiri's turn-out, he made no
comment.

His mama was not so reticent. Now that it was too late for the guests to remedy the matter, she took
spiteful pleasure in calling to her son's notice that the Frenchwomen had not powdered their hair.

The Duke shrugged. “They may well set a new style,” was all he said.

His mama sniffed incredulously, but already the butler was ushering in the first of the evening's guests.
For over an hour, all four in the receiving line were too busy to talk privately. Tiri began to relax, in spite
of the press of newcomers to be greeted and introduced. She had attended a number of State
Receptions at Versailles, and was no stranger to polite modes of behavior. In fact she caught Dani's
approving eye more than once, as she made some pleasant response to a challenge or a question, and
even the Duke was wearing an easier expression.Of course! thought the girl with a surge of compassion,
it is his first time to entertain in his new home! And it's a good thing Dani and I are here, she
decided.His mama is a detriment to any host!

In fact Lady Letitia was growing increasingly acerb to her son's guests.Perhaps her feet hurt her, Tiri
thought, trying to be charitable. It was with considerable relief that they welcomed the Royal Party in
proper form, and were thereafter released to go to mingle with the guests. A cousin of the Duke's on his
father's side had acted as host in the ballroom until the arrival of the King, Queen, and Prince of Wales
freed His Grace to attend the Royals to that spacious and lovely room. As Prinny led off the first dance
with his hostess, Lady Letitia, and the Duke spent the time conversing with the King and Queen, who
elected not to dance, the rest of the guests quickly took the floor with every evidence of enjoyment.

Although the King and Queen departed shortly, the party had already been judged a tremendous
success. In fact, it was, as Lady Jersey sighed,not only a squeeze but a hurricane!, which was felt, by
all who heard her, to be the supreme accolade.

Tiri was not happy. She was flattered, courted, asked to dance every dance by a round half-dozen
gallants—none of whom was His Grace. She had observed him partnering Dani, and Lady Bridget, and
Lady Jersey, and she did not know how many more lovely queens of London Society, but he did not
come nearher. A certain amount of what she felt to be justified resentment was beginning to give her eyes
a dazzling glitter, when Lord Bertram approached her. Since another dance was just starting, and still her
recalcitrant host had shown no awareness of her presence, Tiri accepted the unpleasant lordling's urgent
offer. As they swung onto the polished floor, the man sighed with obvious relief.

“Ah, there, Mam'selle! You were bamming me when you pretended you could not dance English
dances!"

“They are much the same as French,” said Tiri too brightly. “It depends upon one's partner how much
pleasure one receives."

Bertram, obviously set up by what he interpreted as a compliment to his terpsichorean skills, twirled her
around so widely that they nearly collided with another couple.

After fifteen minutes of this, Tiri knew that she would have to sit down or risk falling. Bertram danced as
though he were on the hunting field—a bruising rider. “Can we go on the balcony for a breath of air?” Tiri
gasped. “It is really becoming very warm, is it not?"

It was becoming warm. The light of thousands of candles and the press of hundreds of active bodies
raised the temperature of even this vast room above a comfortable level. Bertram, however, took the
girl's request as a hint for a closer encounter, and suggested very glibly that the Duke's gardeners had
done a remarkable job landscaping his gardens at very short notice. So indeed it proved, as fairy lights
gleamed in the branches of myriad potted trees and shrubs, and the neatly raked white graveled walks
tempted one to explore.

They had hardly got out of sight of the mansion when Bertram caught Tiri's arm and swung her around
against his chest. Alas for his amatory hopes! He swung her so hard (and she was so unsuspecting that
she put up no resistance) that Tiri's nose struck with smashing force against Bertram's protruding
ribs—chicken-breasted, his papa had always called him. To the girl's horror, blood began to flow from
her nose.

Bending over to save her dress, she commanded, “Give me your handkerchief, Bertram! You have
caused my nose to bleed with your roughness!"

The horrified dandy thrust a rather inadequate kerchief into the girl's hand. Mumbling that he would go to
get help for her, he hastened away toward the mansion.

It was his misfortune—and Tiri's—that the Duke, who had been more conscious of the little French girl
than she imagined, should have observed Lord Bertram's guiltily furtive reentry to the ballroom. Moving
quickly and quietly to his side, the Duke swept Bertram back onto the terrace from which he had just
come.

“Where is Mademoiselle de Granville?” he asked coldly.

After some initial stammering, Lord Bertram was understood to say that he had left her in the gardens,
enjoying the fresh air, at her request.

“You should have known better than to take her away from the ballroom in the first place,” shaped His
Grace. “Do you wish to compromise her reputation?"

Lord Bertram wilted visibly in the Duke's iron grip. Since the culprit appeared to have nothing to say for
himself, the Duke released him and strode out into the garden.

Very shortly he observed a slight figure standing in the shadow of a tree, a handkerchief pressed against
her face.Weeping, is she? he thought callously.I warned her of the need to be circumspect, but of
course she knew better—having come from Paris, where ladies have different ideas! He went
quickly up to her and pulled the handkerchief quite firmly from her face.

“I have come to escort you back inside,” he began, “and we must only hope you have not caused
a—"and then he paused.

It was not tears but blood which was flowing down the pale lovely face below his, whose expression at
this moment was changing from forlorn to infuriated. The cause? The dark flow had splattered down over
the white bosom and onto the delicate bodice.

"Imbécile!"wailed Tiri. “You have ruined my dress! I have been carefully trying to stem the flow until
thatidiot of a Bertram got back here with help!"

“You would have had a long wait,” said the Duke, unfeelingly. “The idiot Bertram is dancing with his
sister—neither of whom can be said to have an ounce of compassion.” He offered his own large, spotless
handkerchief. “Try this,” he advised, not unkindly. Placing it against her face, and speaking through its
folds with some difficulty, Tiri groaned, “Now what am I to do? I cannot go back into the ballroom with
blood splattered upon my garments! And I do not have anything to change into! You must get me into a
closed carriage and then make my excuses toMaman and your mother."

“You think that a sudden and mysterious disappearance from the ball will cause no gossip?” prodded the
Duke—unfairly, the girl thought, since it was his cavalier snatching of Bertram's handkerchief which had
created the problem. This she tried to tell him, but he meanly refused to understand, saying he could not
make out her words through the cloth. He did, however, lead her back to a side door of the mansion,
from which unobserved vantage they were able to make their way up to the Duke's private suite.

Once safely behind closed doors, Daral rang for his valet and shared the problem. With a discreet
glance at the stained corsage, the valet suggested an array of flowers.

“It would take a large bouquet to cover those spots,” gloomed Tiri, now quite despondent at the
tragedy. “I should feel and look a fool presenting myself to the company with a flower garden on my
bodice!"

“A shawl? Lace?” inquired Tippen hopefully. “You have such? For a lady, I mean,” demanded the girl.

“Alas, no,” mourned Tippen.

“Then what use to suggest them?” asked Tiri, with some justice.

An interruption occurred at this instant as the Duke discovered that his own white satin waistcoat had
also received several large dark red spots. “Get me a fresh waistcoat,” he instructed Tippen, beginning to
slip out of his coat and the offending garment. “Too bad we can't deck you out in some of my clothes,”
he grinned, with what Tiri felt was cruel levity.

Desperately wishing that her clevermaman were present, Tiri asked her host if he thought he could get
the Countess up to his rooms without rousing too much hubbub and public attention. He agreed to try as
soon as he had donned a fresh waistcoat.

This was accomplished almost immediately, and the Duke was just being helped into his coat again when
the door flew open and Lady Letitia burst into the room.

The look of satisfaction upon Lady Letitia's face struck fear into Tiri's heart. “So! You would insist upon
foisting this adventuress upon the Ton—and now we see what comes of it! What are you doing, Daral,
undressed in your bedroom? Or do I need to ask?"

In a faintly weary tone, the Duke told the story briefly. “So it is your precious cousin Bertram, with his
usual lack of finesse, who is responsible for ruining Mademoiselle de Granville's gown and my waistcoat.
Now if you will remain here to chaperone our guest, I will seek out the Countess,” he concluded.

“What can she do?” snapped the Duchess. “Unless you mean to spirit the two of them out of the
house?"

“I hope her clever fingers can arrange some drapery or device which will conceal Bertram's clumsiness
and permit Mademoiselle de Granville to return to the ball,” said the Duke sternly. “Await me here!"

Since she had never heard quite that iron note in her son's voice before, the Duchess was reluctant to
disobey. She spent her time asking probing and incredulous questions about the incident in the garden,
until Tiri was ready to shout at her. Before such a crisis was reached, fortunately, the door opened again
to admit the Duke and a worried-looking Dani. Her gaze flew to the slender girl standing by the great
fourposter. In a swift dart, she was there and had the girl in her arms.

"Ma pauvre petite! Ma chérie!"she murmured, patting Tiri's shoulder gently.

It was apparent that the Duke had informed her of the crisis upon the way upstairs. She surveyed the
stains upon Tiri's bodice carefully. “Two ideas,” she murmured. “One: We might merely escort Tiri back
to the ball and explain that she has had a nosebleed. But since this is a simple, direct, and truthful
explanation, nobody will believe it. Second: We can find something to drape over the spots.” She
glanced around her inquiringly.

The Duchess drew herself up forbiddingly. “I cannot permit you to vandalize my costume for such a
purpose,” she began.

"Mon Dieu, non!"agreed Dani, with a repulsive look at the red, green, and blue garment which the
Duchess had considered suitable for a Grand Ball. Dani herself was costumed most elegantly in the gold
satin which exactly matched her unpowdered hair, and decked with the topazes which had been a
wedding gift from the ‘Sieur de Granville. She stared around her, trying to discover some sort of material
which would serve to conceal the blood spots. And then she smiled that mischievous little gamine grin
which had so enchanted Louis.

“I have it!” she cried. “You, sir, must turn your back!"

“He must leave the room!” hissed his mama, foreseeing the event.

“I am going nowhere until this matter is settled. If the chit is not suitably chaperoned with you both here,

she never will be!” He did however turn away from the girl and her mother.

Before the Duchess could protest further, Dani had whipped up her own skirt and slipped out of her
white silk underskirt. It was one of several petticoats, each, it seemed to the fascinated observers, finer
than the last. “Scissors! and some pins!” she demanded, and the Duke went at once into his dressing
room, where Tippen waited anxiously. Within seconds he was back with his booty. Dani merely nodded
and cut the delicate silk quickly into two long rectangles. These she held together and then draped them
around Tiri's shoulders. The impromptu fichu came well down below the girl's waist. Dani crossed the
two ends over the girl's breast, and pinned them under the russet velvet ribbons which tied around the
slender waist.

"Voilà"Dani stepped back triumphantly.

Even the Duchess had to admit that the lushly draped, thick silk folds were quaintly pretty on the
girl—and they covered every sign of the nosebleed.

“At this time of night, after the champagne they have drunk,” said the Duke cynically, “no one will
remember what Mam'selle's gown looked like. My congratulations, madame!"

“I am sure the Countess could make herself a good living designing clothes here in London,” added the
Duchess, waspishly.

“Ever tactful, Mama,” murmured her son, with a glance of apology toward the Frenchwomen.

These two were so relieved at the happy outcome of the dilemma that they scarcely heeded the
Duchess's remark. It was in almost perfect charity that the party of four descended the stairs to the
ballroom. Indeed, their relief made them reckless. As they moved across the wide landing in front of the
entrance to the ballroom, Prinny and his friends emerged to confront them.

“Aha! So there you are, my young friend!” announced the Prince, in a loud, pleased voice. “Having a
cozy tête-à-tête with our adorable little Frenchwoman, were you?” He seemed to become aware of the
utter silence as everyone within earshot strained to hear his words. “Both the mamas with you, of course!
Very proper, dear boy! And when are we to hear the good news?” The Prince beamed fatuously at the
two young people he had hoped to bring together.

In the waiting silence, the Duke's voice was clear and firm. “We shall be announcing our engagement
tomorrow, Your Highness,” he said. “I know we have your good wishes, Your Grace. Of course, you
will keep our secret until the proper time!"

This was received with laughter, cheers, and some applause. Quite a number of observers noted that
Lady Letitia had turned an unbecoming shade of puce; Dani was flushed; and Tiri was as white as her
fichu. Only the Duke presented to his world an imperturbable countenance.

CHAPTER 8

The following morning there were more callers than had ever before drummed upon the knocker at Mall
House. Not the last of these was Lady Bridget, accompanied, reluctantly, by her brother. “Mama,” said
Bridget in a tight, disgruntled voice, “is laid down upon her bed, you must know. She cannot believe the
news!"

“I cannot believe it myself,” snapped the Duchess with more candor than courtesy, since Dani and Tiri
were standing nearby, chatting with two inquisitive matrons. Letitia was under severe restraint. The Duke
had reminded her of the penalties that could follow if she refused to accept the situation. It was indeed a
rare case. The chit's sponsor was King Louis of France, and both of Their Britannic Majesties and the
Prince of Wales approved of both the little French miss and the match. These were powerful advocates
who must not he affronted. Since the Duke had publicly announced the engagement, no slanders must be
circulated about his future Duchess.

“I shall dwindle into a dowager,” mourned Lady Letitia.

Lady Bridget wasted no pity on that. “Mama says you should have found a way to avoid the French
trap,” she muttered angrily. “She says she would have warned you if she had not had some respect for
your judgment!"

This was plain speaking indeed, and the Duchess bridled.

“Since it was Bertram who brought the whole thing about, your mama is placing the blame in the wrong
quarter!” She glared at the wretch, who quickly sauntered off to chat with Lady Stavish and her
pug-nosed daughter.

This craven flight left the ladies with no immediate target for their venom. Lady Bridget remedied that by
calling out to Tiri in a tone intended to sound archly teasing, but which only succeeded in sounding nasty,
“How did you do it, Miss de Granville? You must tell all of usless artful females!"

There was a mild titter of laughter from those ladies close enough to overhear the challenging remark.
Dani and Lady Letitia, each for her own reasons, approached the two antagonists, for such they were
universally acknowledged to be: the successful and the unsuccessful candidates for the Duke's hand.

Tiri seemed to have herself in control. She smiled, and her fine blue eyes were sparkling. “But it was
your own dear brother Bertram who played Cupid,” she said. “He caused the nosebleed that shocked
His Grace into realizing the true state of his own feelings for me."

Her small lovely face was at once the focus of dozens of eyes. It could be true. The small straight nose
was slightly swollen and red. The more charitable had supposed that Mam'selle was suffering a heavy
head cold—not unusual at this season of the year. There was a general movement towards the two girls.

“Can you tell us how Lord Bertram—ah—caused your nose to bleed?” quizzed an older lady in a pink
redingote.

Everyone held her breath.

“Surely you have all seen Lord Bertramdancing?" Tiri asked with a gurgle of laughter.

This was greeted with general mirth. Even those who had not personally suffered his misguided
enthusiasm had certainly observed it on the dance floor. “He charges through the gavotte as though he
were riding to hounds!” giggled one miss whose toes had suffered Lord Bertram's painful attention.

But Lady Bridget, who would have been wiser to let the matter drop, persisted in her attack.

“Now why should a nosebleed cause my cousin to propose marriage?” she mused aloud. “Was it
because Prinny caught you in a compromising situation?"

Tiri's little face became sweetly solemn. “I believe it was because His Grace felt bound to comfort my
distress, and so discovered the attraction."

This was the very stuff of Romance. All the ladies were now unashamedly agog and listening.

Lady Bridget plunged onward to her doom. “I was not aware that physical attraction was considered
necessary in a marriage between two persons of our class,” she said viciously. “Of course your mama
would perhaps feel differently!"

There was a gasp at this slander, but Dani, smiling, rose to the occasion. “Physical attraction is a bonus,”
she said pleasantly, as though the other woman had paid her a compliment. “As for her class, Therese's
father's line goes back to 1342, all well documented. It is an honored name."

“But the fortune, if any, belongs to the present holder of the title?” sneered Bridget.

This was felt to be very bad form; the high sticklers in the party began a withdrawing movement.

Dani was not disconcerted. “True,” she admitted. “Still, youth, beauty, and an impeccable lineage have
value, even in these rather—commercially minded days."

“Bravo,” said the Duke, entering his mama's drawing room unannounced. He made his way slowly
through the now nervously chattering groups, speaking pleasantly to everyone, and accepting their
fulsome congratulations with smiling ease. There was a general movement to leave the two newly
engaged persons to whatever privacy the Duchess would allow them. The guests were really not too
reluctant to depart, since there had been no offer of refreshment from Lady Letitia—"such a clutch-fist,
my dear!"—and even more urgently, the need was felt to discuss the fascinating disclosures that had been
made during the last half hour.

The Duke's mother perceived, if no one else did, the furious white flare of his nostrils, and read the threat
in his narrowed green eyes. Lady Bridget only hoped that he had not been lingering outside the drawing
room, as Bertram often did, to catch the gist of what was being said. She realized that she had lost her
cause forever with today's unguarded remarks; it was too much to hope that the whole story would not
be racing around London by tonight. Tossing her head haughtily, she went to him, offered her hand for
him to bow over, and said, “I'm sure you'll be as happy as you deserve to be!” and stalked from the
room.

Bertram was nowhere in sight. It was the final straw that Lady Bridget had to wait for Fallow to summon
a hackney for her.

Flowers arrived soon after, and Fallow brought them into the drawing room where two elderly ladies,
too deaf to be aware of the nuances of the situation, still lingered on. Dani thought the flowers would be
for her daughter, but Fallow brought them directly to the Countess. They were deep red roses, very
fragrant and lovely. Dani extracted the card so eagerly that the others glanced at her.

“They are from Sir Hilary, with an apology for missing the ball last night,” she explained. “He hopes to
call upon us very soon.” She tucked the small note into her reticule and handed the flowers back to
Fallow to be taken to her room. Soon after this the elderly ladies took their leave, and the Duchess
hardly waited until they had left before turning upon her son.

“Perhaps you will take the time to explain to me what is going on?” she snapped.

The Duke looked at her coldly. “You wish me to confront you before witnesses?” His glance indicated
the Frenchwomen.

Dani, only too anxious to get away, said that they would of course retire so that the Duke and his mama
might have acomfortable tête-à-tête.

The Duke uttered a bark of laughter at this euphemism.

Dani and Tiri escaped thankfully.

The door had hardly closed behind them when His Grace went on the attack. “I cannot believe what I
heard just before I entered the room,” he began. “If you have no care for my reputation, one would think
you might be concerned for your own!"

“I have done nothing!” his mama stammered.

“Your protégée, Lady Bridget, was trying her best to discredit not only me and my fiancée, but you as
her sponsor. Are you so blind that you cannot see that your bosom bow, Cousin Amelia, has been
jealous of you and hated my father since the day my father married you rather than her?” At her
incredulous glare, he went on ruthlessly, “IfI knew of her rancor, believe me that everyone else in the Ton
did so! I could never understand why you persisted in making her your confidante, when all her advice
and counsel was deliberately given to do you disservice!"

“That is a lie!” gasped his mother. “She thinks only of my own good!"

“Is that why she has been thrusting Bridget down my throat for the last five or six years? The girl's an
ape-leader; she's been on the town for eight or nine years, and no one's offered for her. Can't you think
why?"

“Because everyone thought you would be offering for her?” faltered Lady Letitia.

“Because no man wanted to leg-shackle himself to a bitter, sharp-tongued female with little beauty and
less grace!” said the Duke. “You have made usboth a laughing stock with your tireless efforts to push her
off on me. Her performance today, deliberately trying to insult your guests, and through them yourself and
me, must surely show you how little she values your reputation in the Ton."

“You misjudge her!” protested Lady Letitia, but her voice showed that she herself doubted what she
was saying.

The Duke shrugged. “If we have settled that matter, may we now summon the de Granvilles and discuss
this business of my marriage?"

Chastened, Lady Letitia asked if he wanted her to be present during the discussion. The Duke frowned.

“I suppose you should be. If you have not completely alienated the Frenchwomen, they will benefit from
your knowledge of our English modes and manners."

Grateful for that much forbearance and finally accepting that it was Bertram Mall's bungling which had
betrayed them to Prinny's snare, the Duchess rang for Fallow and instructed him to request the French
ladies to join them in the drawing room.

As they reentered the gloomy room a few minutes later, Dani was inquiring, and Tiri was sullen. The
Duke did not waste time.

“I have asked you to join my mother and me here so that we may discuss this matter of the wedding
between Mademoiselle Therese and me,” began the Duke, a trifle pompously. Tiri found that, much as
she disliked the man, she could not take her eyes from his handsome face and tall, well-shaped body.
The candlelight was reflected in his strange green eyes, which were fixed upon her own face at this very
moment. He was addressing her particularly.

“Now that we are alone, the four of us most closely concerned, I should like to ask you, Mam'selle,
what you feel about this engagement? Honestly, if you please."

“I was surprised,” began the girl hesitantly, trying to meet the challenge of those compelling eyes. “I felt
unhappy that you had been trapped, as it were, by the combination of your Prince's romantic fancies and
Lord Bertram's heavy-handed awkwardness."

“So,” said the Duke coldly, “your first emotions were surprise and unhappiness. Not a very promising
combination."

Tiri's quick temper began to prickle at his summary evaluation of her feelings. Arrogant Englishman!
What did he expect her to say? That she was swooning for joy at the thought of marrying him?

The Duke noted that militant sparkle with pleasure. The plan that he was considering would not work
with a meekly submissive girl.

“What of your second thoughts?” he inquired silkily. “I am sure you have had them! Are you already
reconciled to the match? Have you and your mama discussed the advantages of marriage to a Duke—a
wealthy Duke?"

Dani interrupted icily. “You asked the child for her honest feelings. She began to give them to you. I shall
not permit you to patronize or insult my daughter.” She lifted her chin proudly. “Now that we have
fulfilled the request of King Louis and presented his note to your own monarch, we shall leave this—this
house which has received us so grudgingly. You may make whatever excuses you choose to your Prince
and your friends!” She turned to the white-faced girl. “Come, Tiri!"

“A dramatic gesture!” sneered the Duke. His mother was staring at him intently. Now that he had
accomplished the greatly-to-be-desired end of driving the interlopers from Mall House, surely he would
not jeopardize his success with further talk? But it seemed that he would. He was saying to the two
Frenchwomen, who halted on their way to the door, “Do you intend leaving at once, or will you wait until
your trunks can be packed and other accommodations arranged for you?"

Dani, disconcerted by this new direction, which would seem to imply that their sponsor did not want
them to leave his mother's home, scanned his face with a frown. “Other accommodations?” she echoed.

“You did not intend to spend the night in the park or on the street, I hope?” His sarcasm greatly angered
Tiri.

She sprang to hermaman's defense. “Such extreme measures, while they might be preferable to another
night in this house, are not necessary! We have a friend who will be glad to give us shelter for as long as
we wish!"

The Duke frowned in his turn. “May I be permitted to know the name of this—friend? Could he by any
chance be the sender of that rather ostentatious armful of red roses that was just delivered? Could your
friend and savior by any chance be Sir Hilary Conray?"

“And if he were?” challenged Tiri.

“Quite ineligible,” snapped the Duke. “It would ruin not only your chance for a suitable marriage, but
your mother's. I trust you do have marriage in mind—this time?” he taunted the older woman.

Dani turned wordlessly to leave the room.

Tiri was not so quickly routed. She strode toward the Duke and, taking a position in front of him,
slapped his face as hard as she could. Then she followed hermaman out of the room.

As the door closed behind them, the Duchess looked at her son. “I should be delighted at what you have
just done,” she said slowly. “It is, in fact, what I myself have already tried to do. Yet, Daral"—her
somber visage held a kind of distress—"I feel sorry for the child. I think perhaps you went too far."

The white mark was fading into red on the Duke's cheek. His expression was inscrutable.

“Did you hope to dislodge them, Daral? Or did you expect such rough-dealing to bend them to your
will?” his mother continued.

“I was testing them—both of them. I must admit,” he touched his cheek ruefully, “I was surprised by
their reactions. I had wondered if the woman would rail and scream like a fishwife—or, should I say, like
Lady Bridget? I expected the girl would cry or even plead with me. It seems I was mistaken on both
counts."

It did not seem to his mother that he was too distressed by the outcome of his campaign. “You achieved
your purpose, however. They will leave today."

“I think not,” said the Duke. For the first time the smile that he gave his mother was not an icy one. “May
I compliment you, Mama, upon your compassion for the girl? You surprise me!” and to her shock and
delight he bent, took her hand, and raised it to his lips. Then he walked lightly from the room.

As he mounted the handsome curving stairway whose side wall was graced by an excellent painting of
himself by Lely, the Duke congratulated himself upon the smooth working of his plan, conceived during
the dark hours after the last guest had departed from his new residence the night before. Already Step
One had been accomplished successfully: to make the French filly angry enough to break off their
engagement. She'd done it, the little vixen! He rubbed his cheek wryly. The purpose of the exercise, he
reminded himself, was to convince him, by her refusal to wed him, that she was not a cold-hearted,
mercenary schemer.

The second step, envisioned at length in delightful fantasy as the dawn was filtering reluctantly through
the smoky skies over London, was to make the fiery little beauty fall in love with him—cap over windmill,
head over heels, passionately in love. He had not tried to consider what he would do in such an event. It
had been the satisfying details of the fantasy that had lulled him, finally, to sleep.

The Duke told himself, as he prepared to knock upon their bedroom door, he had only to assure himself
that the chit really meant to leave, and was throwing away her chance to hold him to the engagement.

Then Step Two could be set in motion. To his surprise, the door stood partly open. The Duke decided
quite ruthlessly to eavesdrop.

Having already despatched a footman to bring their trunks to their room, Dani and Tiri were busily
pulling their garments out of the great wardrobe. It gave them both considerable satisfaction to release
their emotions in physical exercise. Tiri, particularly, was tossing cloaks and gown onto hermaman's bed
with such vigor that Dani was forced to request her to proceed more gently, lest she ruin the garments.

“And if we do?” challenged Tiri.

“You are saying we will have little use for such costumes when we are acting as servants in someone's
house?” asked her mother.

Tiri halted and stared at her. “You plan to become a servant?"

Dani shrugged. “I am not really trained to become a governess, and I do not think any sensible female
would hire me as a companion,” she said, the mischievous twinkle back in her lovely eyes.

“But Sir Hilary? I thought—” stammered the girl.

“You thought I would foist us both onto the poor man?Ah, non, ma petite! When I go to Hilary—ifI
go,” she corrected herself, “it will be because he begsme, not because I beghim!"

“I see,” said Tiri slowly. She sat down on the side of the bed, thinking hard. “Then perhaps I should not
have been so—so—"

“So hasty? Or so violent?” Dani chuckled. “You sprang to my defense like a young tigress, my Tiri! I am
proud of you!"

“I lost us our chance to compromise, to stay here until I am wedded,” admitted the girl, sadly.

Dani wrinkled her pretty nose. “I do not think either of us really wanted thatmariage de convenance for
you, little doll. Here in this new country we are free at last from the past—its mistakes at least. Do you
not agree we might begin to think of this journey from Paris, from France, as an adventure, a beginning,
and free ourselves from the trappings of the past?"

“Very poetic,” came a deep, familiar voice from the half-open doorway, “but a little impractical, don't
you think?"

Both women turned quickly to confront the Duke, but his keen glance noted that Dani did not seem as
surprised to see him as did her daughter.

“Do you have something more practical to suggest?” Dani asked.

She knew I was testing them,thought the Duke with reluctant admiration.Now I wonder if she also
guesses my other plan? He flashed them a smile that told them nothing.

“I do have a suggestion,” he offered casually. “Accept my deep apologies for my rudeness downstairs.
Agree to stay here for one more week. Then we may all go down to my estate near Hastings. Let the
interest in our engagement die down—"

“So we can break it off with no blame attaching itself to you?” said Tiri scornfully.

“But I thought that was what you wanted,” the Duke reminded her.

Tiri stared at him with suspicion. “I did—I do!” she agreed, too hastily. Then she turned to Dani as she
thought of another objection."Maman will not wish to leave London just now—"

“Oh, but I will!” Dani corrected her. “It is an excellent plan!"

Tiri noted her mother's animated expression doubtfully. “You would wish to remove yourself from a
certain person's vicinity?” she prodded.

"Absence,"quoted the Duke lightly,"makes the heart grow fonder." He caught their puzzled glances
and grinned. “It's a quotation by a man called Davison of a saying popular about two hundred years ago.
We English are always well in the lead in native shrewdness."

Dani flashed him a naughty smile. “If the saying is true—and who would dare challenge English
wisdom?—perhaps you should not come with us to Hastings?"

The Duke laughed. “So that you can become fond of me?"

Tiri was surprised to see a charming smile on his well-cut lips and suddenly wished very hard that it had
been she, rather than hermaman, who had brought that softness to his mouth.

Dani was quipping back, “So thatyou may become fonder ofus!"

The Duke was reminded that he had a gift for his mother's guests—vouchers for Almacks', which he
now presented. Both ladies were suitably impressed. Then Dani recalled that an invitation had been
offered by the Prince of Wales for the Duchess of Lansdale and her guests to attend asoirée at Carlton
House, and that the invitation had been accepted. One would not care to leave town before attending
such a dazzling event as this was sure to be! So it was decided that the party would journey down to
Hastings within two weeks.

It seemed, at the time, to be a pleasant and sensible course of action, which would unobtrusively prepare
for the ultimate breaking off of the engagement between His Grace, the Duke of Lansdale and
Mademoiselle de Granville.

CHAPTER 9

Less than two weeks later, disaster struck.

There was little cause to suspect the direction from which the blow would come or the devastating
power of it. In fact, affairs were marching well for the de Granvilles, as Dani rather smugly told her
daughter. There had been extravagant daily bouquets of roses from Sir Hilary, although he did not show
his face at Mall House. Invitations continued to pour in for the Frenchwomen, who were becoming the
Pets of Society. Sometimes Dani seemed a littledistrait, but when Tiri asked the reason for her pensive
mood, her mother at once brightened and told her to try a new coiffure for her drive out with Princess
Mary through Hyde Park.

Tiri wondered if her mother's unease might spring from the behavior of the Duchess. Lady Letitia's

momentary softness, displayed on the day of the Duchess's At Home, was not repeated. In fact, as the
social star of the de Granvilles rose and glittered over the Beau Monde, the Duchess's attitude became
ever more forbidding. Since they must remain for these last few days in the dour mansion, Dani made a
laudable effort to help her hostess by suggesting that she go with her to select a new gown for Prinny's
soirée.

This friendly gesture was rejected with every evidence of loathing.

“I believe, madame,” Her Grace commented, “that I am quite capable of knowing what is in good taste
in London—whatever the excesses of the French mode."

Such a quelling reply could not be met with a civil answer; Dani merely nodded and dropped the
subject. The question of her own costume for Almacks’ was exercising the Frenchwoman. She
knew—none better!—how quickly the smile of Fashion can turn to bitter rejection. It seemed necessary
to Dani that she and Tiri should not put forward a foot wrong in regard to their behavior or their
appearance during this vital, final two weeks. There was the eternal and inevitable problem of their
clothing. Two trunks were not an inexhaustible well, and since Dani refused, like a good French
housewife, to accept any further monetary assistance from the elusive Sir Hilary (believing that he might
have need of it all later when he took a wife), there was no money to purchase replacements for their
often-worn costumes. They had managed so far by the skillful use of lace and silk shawls, fichus,
exchanged petticoats, and the judicious garnish of Dani's few but excellent sets of jewels. When the
Wednesday night of Almacks’ Ball and Supper approached, however, Dani knew that she must present
no slightest occasion for gossip or criticism.

She therefore decided upon the black velvet she had worn for her Presentation, with the black lace
shawl doubled and draped most discreetly over her shoulders and breast. On top of this she wore the
diamond parure—necklace, earrings and bracelet—that Louis had given her. But her bright golden hair!
She could powder it; such was the almost universal custom. Still, it had become almost a signature of the
de Granvilles, and she hated to abandon it at this point. Such evidence of insecurity would be leaped
upon immediately by the gabble mongers. Then Dani's brow cleared, and she giggled softly.

In full regalia, and with a black silk shawl draped over one arm, she made her way to the apartments of
the Duchess. Her quiet knock received permission to enter. The Duchess and her dresser looked up at
the somberly elegant figure in the open doorway.

“I have come to Your Grace for instruction in the proper draping of a turban,” Dani said quietly, offering
the shawl as evidence. “Your own turbans are so exactly in the mode that I dared hope you might instruct
me."

Dani waited in the doorway for permission to come further into her hostess's room.

There was a tricky moment of silence. Then Lady Letitia, quite unable to resist the opportunity of
schooling the too-attractive Frenchwoman, beckoned her in. The dresser closed the door and stood
ready to implement any of her mistress's commands.

“You are placing yourself among the dowagers tonight, then?” sniped the Duchess, pushing home the
point.

“What else?” asked Dani lightly. “I am a widow and not a contender in the Marriage Stakes. I shall be
taking my place among the chaperones."

Her salted reference to the chief business of Almacks'—the launching of a daughter or female
protégée—did not seem to displease the Duchess. With the slightest lessening of her habitual hauteur, she
and her dresser proceeded to drape the Countess's silk shawl into a passable turban. As they formed it,
it quite eclipsed the beautiful golden hair, lending a more austere look to the lovely features. Since this
was exactly the effect Dani wanted, all three ladies were satisfied with the result of their efforts.

Tiri's eyebrows rose a few minutes later, when Dani came into her daughter's room to superintend the
final touches on Tiri's costume.

"Maman!What is that thing on your head?” burst from the girl's lips at first sight of the turban.

Dani's solemn face broke into a grin. Then, miming a formidable hauteur, she said, “I am aChaperone!
Ready to sit among the dowagers and make waspish comments on all the prettiest ladies on the dance
floor. Reputations cut up with a whisper! Beware you do not get on the wrong side of me, miss!"

They both laughed, but Tiri still looked worried.

“Trust me, little cabbage,” said her mother. “The word is discretion! Circumspection!"

“That istwo words,” Tiri advised, and they laughed again.

“Now we must see to you, my little golden doll,” murmured hermaman. For this most important
occasion, they had decided upon a dress in palest sapphire blue, which Tiri liked least of her costumes. It
was made in rather too ingenuous style to suit a seventeen-year-old with aspirations to attract masculine
attention. The neckline had been high and rounded at the throat, the skirt cut so voluminously as to
resemble, said Tiri, a folded tent. This carping had brought about a series of slight alterations; and even
Dani, who had made them, was hardly prepared for the delightful effectiveness of the remodeled
garment. The neck had been cut not round but square over the softly swelling breasts. The bunchy skirt
had been reduced to a softly draped narrow fall, which served to emphasize, without exploiting, the tiny
waist, slender hips, and long coltish legs. Dani went to her jewel box and extracted the sapphires that the
Duke had given them both. “These are perfect with the costume,” she said firmly, “as well as being a
delicate thank-you to His Grace, who is escorting us to Almacks'. You will wear them, if you please,
Therese Marie!"

Tiri, who had her mouth open to protest, closed it and put on the lovely jewels. It was not often that her
mother addressed her by her full given name, or in such a voice. She glanced anxiously at herself in the
mirror. The earrings gleamed delicately from her lobes, partly screened by restrained waves of red gold
hair. The golden and sapphire bracelet set off her slender white wrist very effectively. Tiri suddenly felt
armored against the hazards of London's most exclusive social club.

The evening passed smoothly. Dani maintained her resolve to sit by the wall, placing herself
unobtrusively near but not crowding the Duchess, who had her own little coterie of gossips. These did,
however, include Her Grace's guest in some of the less intimate gossip, to which Dani listened with an air
of polite interest. The Duke took his mama out for the first dance, then very correctly offered for Dani.
Since it was a short, unexceptionable quadrille, she accepted, and performed it with dignity.

When the Duke returned her to the line of turbaned chaperones, he asked, clearly enough to be heard
by everyone nearby, “May I have the honor to lead out your daughter, ma'am?"

Dani nodded with all the aplomb of a Lady Cowper or Castlereagh, those two despotic Patronesses.
The Duke took Tiri's hand, and escorted her up to a square that was forming. He was greeted pleasantly

by the other dancers, and he managed to introduce Tiri to them before the music started.

The girl, at first nervous that she might put a foot wrong, was soon feeling more at ease. Her natural
sparkle soon asserted itself, and many eyes turned to watch the beautiful little dancer. The Duke
acknowledged a feeling of satisfaction at partnering the prettiest young woman on the floor. He opened
the rather disjointed conversation with a patronizing, “You are looking very attractive tonight, Mam'selle!"

“As fine as fivepence,” agreed Tiri with a twinkle in her large blue eyes.

This startled an unexpected laugh out of the Duke, who then regarded his protégée with an admonitory
eye. “A little less of the cant, Miss de Granville,” he murmured, in quite a different tone.

Tiri smiled. “I am so happy to be out upon the floor, where, one hopes, some eligibleparti may catch a
glimpse of me,” she said, daringly. “Thank you for asking me."

The Duke glanced around him at the rest of the dancers in their group. Mercifully, none of them had
caught the low-voiced remark. The Duke realized that he would have to have a serious talk with this little
opportunist, but he also knew that she would probably give him an argument if he cautioned her. He
could almost hear her saying, “But everyone calls it the Marriage Mart! Surely they understand why they
are coming here!” Exhaling a longsuffering sigh, he waited for the next quiet moment when they stood
together to whisper a warning. “You must watch your tongue, Tiri! An incautious remark can blast your
whole career!You are supposed to be engaged to me!"

He was rewarded by a suddenly worried look on the girl's face, and wondered why he felt guilty. Surely
it was safer to be circumspect than sorry. As the dance continued, the girl's infectious gaiety made their
group the most observed of any on the floor, but the apprehensive nobleman could not fault her manners
or her choice of comment. With exasperation he became aware that his little vixen was in a fair way to
becoming the Belle of the Ball. A series of noblemen requested permission to lead her out, but her
youthful charm did not degenerate into smug complacence or vainglory at her signal success. Instead she
remained modest, charmingly grateful for the attention bestowed upon her, and remarkably
self-possessed.

Dani felt the thrill of triumph. Even the Duchess unbent sufficiently to mention the child's pretty behavior,
although she ended with the gloomy prediction that it would soon disappear under the flattering attentions
of London's most eligible bachelors.

“She would have to have a level head to remain unmoved by that one's gallantries,” she indicated the
young Earl of Swanden, leading Tiri out for the second time. “Had you not better warn her that while two
dances are acceptable, a third with the same partner is tooparticular for good breeding?"

“She knows it,” said Dani softly, and was proven correct by Tiri's firm but gentle refusal of the third offer
from the young nobleman.

At this point the Duke of Lansdale appeared again and calmly informed Tiri that all the rest of her
dances, including the supper dance, were to be his. “But I must not!” breathed the girl, thrilled that the
handsomest man in the hall wished to be her partner. “Maman says, never more than two—"

“I am your fiancé,” stated the Duke incontrovertibly, but he spoiled it by adding, “In case you had
forgotten, in your rush of popularity."

Tiri would have pouted had she not known that many eyes were upon them. Instead she nodded and

whispered, under the guise of a sweet smile,"I had not forgotten it. I thoughtyou had."

The Duke's clasp on her arm tightened, but he forbore to rebuke her pertness. As he led her to the
supper table, he said gently, “The sapphires become you, Tiri. They match your bright eyes."

Since this was the first admiring speech he had ever made to her—to say nothing of using her pet name
for the first time—the girl glowed and opened under the warmth of his words. The Duke being a
competent maneuverer, they found themselves soon after seated at a small table with full plates of
goodies before them.

“It is not much,” said the Duke as he gloomily surveyed the combination of small sandwiches, dry
biscuits, buttered tea cakes. Tiri, too hungry to be critical, was absorbing the morsels on her plate with
ladylike gusto. The Duke grinned at her.

“My mother keeps you on short commons, does she not? You would not otherwise be so greedy for
these wretched scraps. Try the ratafia! That is perfectly acceptable for a young lady, and much to be
preferred to cold tea."

This seemed to her a witty remark, and she laughed softly, her eyes bright and her lovely face flushed
with pleasure. Lady Jersey, who could be kind enough if the whim took her, was pleased to come and
compliment the little newcomer whom she had hardly noticed when the chit had been presented to her
earlier.

“This is a pretty little fledgling you have snared yourself, Lansdale,” she said, and she smiled at the
handsome man who had risen to greet her approach. “I understand congratulations are in order?” She
bestowed a smile upon the dazzled girl. “Yes, she should suit very well, sir. A charming ornament to your
House.” Lady Jersey drifted off to tell one of her bosom bows that that child would scarcely furnish a
mouthful for the Duchess, and she pitied the little French waif.

Quite unaware of any need to regret her situation, Tiri was basking in the exciting, if temporary, approval
of her pseudo fiancé. Thirstily she finished her glass of ratafia.

“This is delicious!” she said, beaming at her partner. “Do you suppose I might have another glass?” The
Duke elevated an eyebrow. “Of ratafia? Well, I suppose so, if you like the stuff.” He rose from their table
to get her a second glass. Tiri's gaze followed his tall, splendid figure as he lounged over to the buffet.
Surely shoulders were never so broad under dark green velvet! Nor legs so sturdy and powerful in white
satin breeches, which werede rigueur for Almacks'! She knew a quick fierce stab of regret that this
engagement was not real. If only the arrogant nobleman might come to care for her in reality as he was
pretending to do now! She sighed and glanced around for hermaman and the Duchess. The latter was
eating at a round table with several friends. There was no sign of Dani.

When the Duke brought back her glass of the aromatic drink (peaches, she thought, with brandy and a
trace of spices), she asked him if he had seen Dani. Standing at her side, his great frame towering over
her seated figure, His Grace scanned the room.

“Not here. Possibly she is still in the ballroom. Do you wish to go to seek her?"

Tossing off the ratafia, Tiri rose at once. “Yes, if you please."

“You are remarkably acquiescent tonight, Tiri. Can it be you are trying to win my approval?"

Tiri glanced up into the beautiful green eyes which seemed to be probing her very heart. Her own gaze
dropped, unable to sustain that jewel-hard demand. “Surely that must be an object with me, after all your
kindness to us?” she murmured.

The Duke frowned. Taking her by the elbow, he led her back to the ballroom.

They saw Dani at once. She was strolling toward them on the arm of the young Earl of Swanden. There
was a general milling about as gallants sought partners for the next dance, and acquaintances gathered in
small groups for an exchange of pleasantries. Dani's rather serious expression softened into a smile as she
caught sight of Tiri and Daral.

“There you are! Good! The Earl has suggested that we join you in a glass of orgeat."

“Your favorite tipple, Swanden?” inquired the Duke, shuddering ostentatiously.

The younger man colored darkly with resentment at this slur. “I should rather say not! I always eat a
huge dinner before attending one of these affairs. The collation the Patronesses provide is quite beneath
contempt!"

“Then if not to urge us to indulge,” sneered the Duke, “why were you seeking my fiancée and me?"

The Earl, very young, very green, and very rich, was not yet accustomed to the slights and put-downs
any pretender to the role of Nobleman-about-Town must endure. He was plainly put out by the Duke's
cavalier treatment. His boyish face flushed unattractively as he glared at the older man. Then one word of
the Duke's remark suddenly registered."Fiancée?" He stared at Tiri and Dani, then at the Duke. His
frown vanished. “Ah! I see!” He bowed to Dani, then with a knowing smile, said, “So you are the
mysterious Frenchwoman who has taken the eye of our most famous bachelor!” Turning to the Duke, he
said throatily, “Pray forgive me, Your Grace! I know you will do so when I confess that I was hoping to
secure the good will of Madame la Comtesse so that I might further my acquaintance with her most
charming daughter!” and he beamed upon the Duke and the two women.

It is a question which of the three was the more offended, yet for obvious reasons, none of them could
express anger. Dani, much as she loved Tiri, could hardly enjoy being told she had been courted as a
means of access to her daughter. The latter was deeply annoyed at the easy assumption that the Duke
would prefer hermaman to herself. Daral, with more self-control than either of his companions, was
disturbed to discover how angry the young stripling's pursuit of Tiri had made him. Mastering a desire to
hurl the immature Lothario down the stairs, he smiled grimly.

“May I introduce the Countess of Granville and her daughter, Therese, my fiancée?” His slight bow in
each case indicated the person named.

The Earl's self-control was greatly inferior to the Duke's"Miss Therese is your intended? But you are
too old for her!” he exclaimed, quite losing that air of casual sangfroid which he always tried so hard to
maintain.

His comment was the last straw. The Duke's countenance became an arrogant mask.

“Not too old, I think, to meet you tomorrow morning—ifyou are not too young for a gentleman's affair
of honor!"

Dani took charge of the explosive situation before these two English gamecocks could endanger all her

plans, as well as their own reputations.

“Ah, alas! It will be quite impossible! This charmingboy had promised to take me to see the sunrise over
Windsor Castle. There will be a party of us, and naturally we cannot disappoint so many!"

The Earl, while grateful for any defense against the hideous threat of a duel with an acknowledged
master, was still so astonished to hear that he had made so unlikely a proposal as a dawn drive into the
country that his jaw literally dropped, leaving his mouth open rather unattractively.

Observing his horror, the Duke felt a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. Dani was right, of course—where
had she gotten the idea of a sunrise drive to Windsor? It was only a fraction less repulsive to the
Earl than a duel, if his expression could be believed!—To duel with this halfling would create a nasty
scandal. Smoothly he followed Dani's lead, making a laughing apology.

“You are right, Swanden! A predawn drive to appreciate the beauties of nature is indeed beyond one of
my years! I wish you happy with it!” He smiled, bowed, and offered his arm to Tiri. “Our dance, my
dear, I believe!” he said and swept her onto the floor where the sets were now forming.

Tiri was very quiet as the figures proceeded. The Duke, rather pluming himself on his skill in getting out
of a brangle (conveniently forgetting that he had himself initiated it), decided to challenge the girl as soon
as he had her to himself. This happened at the end of the dance, when, instead of returning her to the row
of seats where her mama and the other chaperones sat, he led her to one of a series of small alcoves
open to the ballroom but affording a slight measure of privacy.

“I believe I handled that hot-headed young cawker quite neatly,” he began.

“You would be engaged to fight a duel with him in a few hours, had it not been for Dani's intervention,”
the girl said quietly.

Tiri's response, although accurate, annoyed the Duke. What right had the little chit to adopt a critical
tone to him? He frowned portentously.

“He would never have accepted. You do not understand these matters! He would have begged my
pardon and withdrawn from the field."

Tiri did not appear convinced. Instead she said soberly, “The incident makes it clear to me that we are
going about this situation in quite the wrong way.” The Duke was completely at sea and did not hesitate
to show it. What bee had the girl in her bonnet now? The musicians struck up the next dance, and the
Duke grinned like a boy as he heard the music.

“Do you waltz, Tiri? Shall we venture it?"

“I am told one must have permission from the Patronesses,” objected Tiri. “I must not mark myself as
fast. Besides, we need to talk, Your Grace."

“Then we shall talk!” said His Grace regretfully. “I had a fancy to hold you in my arms."

This remark startled both of them. Rather quietly the two in the alcove watched the pairs of dancers
swinging so smoothly past them to the fascinating music. Finally the Duke turned to the girl. “Talk!” he
ordered.

Tiri took a deep, steadying breath. She experienced a strange reluctance to state the conclusions she had
come to. “I cannot see,” she began, low-voiced, “that parading our so-called engagement before the
eligible men in the Ton is going to solve my problem."

His Grace, bending toward her to catch her low-spoken words, presented too particular an image of the
besotted male for his mother's notions of propriety to endure. She had been watching the two ever since
they returned from supper. She had noted their retreat to the alcove and, worse, had been the recipient
of several barbs from her cronies on her imminent elevation to dowagerhood. She now bore down upon
the culprits like a ship under full sail and swept them up with the same battering force. Almost before they
knew it, Daral and Tiri found themselves in the supper room sipping the despised orgeat.

The Duke was quietly furious. “You interrupted an important conference.” He then told his mother the
one thing he knew would rouse in her a rage of self-hatred. “Tiri was about to explain to me why we
should announce the breakoff of our engagement at once."

Lady Letitia's expression revealed all too well her chagrin. It appeared, if her son spoke truly, that she
had, by her interruption, prevented the very outcome she so desperately desired.

“Can we—can you not continue the conversation?” she asked, very humbly for her.

Tiri was ready to agree, but the Duke slammed the door on further discussion. “It is late, and this place
bores me,” he said crisply. “We shall collect your other guest, dear Mama, and make our adieux to our
hostesses,” and he swept all three ladies along remorselessly in the strong tide of his will.

They were very soon settled in the elegant carriage, the three ladies rather crowding the spacious rear
seat with their costumes, the Duke sprawled at his ease facing them. Tiri wished she could have slapped
the smug smile off his handsome face, but something more than good breeding held her back, even from
making a comment. The cheerful, effervescent Dani was also silent; she stared unseeingly out the window
at the darkened streets through which the carriage jolted. Only the Duchess ventured rashly to break the
charged silence.

“About the conference—” she began.

“Leave it, Mama,” advised her son coldly.

“Perhaps tomorrow morning?” Lady Letitia persisted doggedly.

“I shall be leaving quite early for Hastings in the morning,” the Duke informed her."Alone."

This effectively cut off dialogue. Nothing further was said on the way to Mall House.

CHAPTER 10

Very early the following morning, a young woman in the first stare of elegance descended from a
hackney in front of the Duke of Lansdale's Town house and presented herself at the door. Hull, the
butler, recognized his master's fiancée and bundled her inside before any passersby could become aware
of her identity. In a disapproving tone he inquired what he could do for her. “His Grace,” Hull told her,
“is not yet come out of his rooms!"

“Then you must send someone up to fetch him, Hull, for it is most important that I speak to him at once.

I have been awake almost the whole night over this matter, Hull. Please send for His Grace!"

Hull was not proof against huge, tear-filled blue eyes. She did look rather hagged, poor little female, he
decided. Hull was not normally a lenient man, having been especially chosen by the Duke for his expert
ability to discourage pretension, but he had been the Duke's butler for more than seven years and knew a
good deal about the Duke's affairs. Something's gone wrong with the engagement, he surmised, or
perhaps it's that mother of his making things nasty. So he settled Mam'selle in the cozy morning room and
brought her a cup of coffee and some fresh baked rolls. Since he had also despatched a footman to
announce Mam'selle's arrival to the Duke, Tiri was willing to break her fast in moderate patience.

Within a remarkably short space of time His Grace entered the morning room. Hull observed that his
master also had shadows under his eyes, although his expression revealed nothing and his manner was
correctly aloof and courteous.

With a nod of dismissal for Hull, The Duke poured himself a cup of coffee and took the last roll from the
basket in front of Tiri.

“We shall not be interrupted,” he said, sitting down across the table where he could see every shade of
feeling upon the pale little face before him. “Suppose you explain your very unconventional arrival at my
home at this hour?” He was sternly repressing a fear that the chit was trying to force him to free her by
threat of a scandal. But she did not look defiant, or devious, or anything but very young, very tired—and
very sweet.

An unaccustomed tenderness softened his usual harsh attitude. “Would you like to tell me why you are
here?” he urged gently.

“I have come,” said the girl with a proud lift of her small chin, “to talk about our engagement."

Curiously reluctant to continue with this particular topic, the Duke interposed quickly, “To thank me for
saving your face? But—"

“No,” interrupted the girl doggedly, “to tell you it won't work. To release you from it.” She caught a
deep breath. “How can I interest a possible partner if I am supposed to be going to marry you? I should
think you would have realized that."

“Or that your mama would!” retorted the Duke crossly. “She is supposed to have superior social skills,
coming from the most elegant Court in Europe!"

The minute the words left his mouth, the Duke regretted them. Tiri's little face went even paler, which put
the huge, dark-shadowed eyes into greater prominence. The soft mouth trembled, and then became firm.

“I think we were all taken by surprise when your Prince made his dramatic announcement,” she said. “I
meant no blame upon you, Your Grace. Your quick recovery and your most generous announcement
prevented a social disaster for mymaman and myself. I pray you, do not think we are ungrateful! It is as
much for your own sake as for ours that I—I thrust myself upon your notice this morning. You did say
you were going into the country today?"

“I said that only to prevent the Duchess from trying to manipulate us all. You are fortunate, Tiri, in your
agreeable relationship with your mama. My experience has been quite otherwise. I am, perhaps
understandably, wary."

Tiri nodded. “But you do see that we must have a new plan of action if we are to release you from this
intolerable burden, do you not, Your Grace?"

“I wish you would call me Daral,” the Duke heard himself saying.

Tiri was willing to do more than that to placate this dazzling, difficult man; she would be willing to do
anything that would help him—and solve their problem. So she said, rather shyly, “Of course, Daral, and
you must call me Tiri."

The Duke was staring at her with an odd, intent look upon his face. “Why did they call you Tiri? It is a
ridiculous name!"

Still trying to conciliate, Tiri explained, “It is the way I tried to say my name, Therese, when I was very
small."

“I thought it might be another of Louis’ pet names for you—likepoupée dorée, golden doll,” said Daral,
quite unable to resist the barb from long habit in talking with his mama.

Tiri looked at him sternly. “We shall never resolve our difficulties if you persist in these sneers and
taunts,” she told him.

The Duke had the grace to look ashamed—probably for the first time in his life.

Waiting a moment to see if he had anything to say, Tiri went on firmly, “Now what are we to do about
breaking the engagement without harm to either of us?"

“A good question,” said the Duke, who was staring at her soft mouth. “I wish I had a good answer to it."

Regarding him for a long moment, and finding herself quite unable to read anything in that handsome
mask, the girl proposed slowly, “Could we put it about thatmaman and I had been called back to
France?—"

“After just fleeing from Paris in a panic?” interpolated the Duke with a sneer.

“You know we did not flee! We were despatched!"

“I hope that does not become general knowledge!"

Deep color infused the girl's cheeks. The Duke cursed himself for an inept and cruel bungler. Why did he
keep hurting the child, when his real feelings were so different? Was it because he feared the strength of
these new, too powerful desires?

The girl was going on. “We could say that Dani was recalled to Brittany to deal with family matters—the
estate?"

“That would be an acceptable excuse,” admitted the Duke. “My mother and I wondered why you had
not gone there in the first place."

“Because,” said Tiri bitterly, “it is quite impossible—the last place we could go! The present Comte de
Granville hates and despises my mother, although she did not go to Paris until after my father died. He
expected her to remain at Granville and act as an unpaid housekeeper for himself and his wife. He would

never permit us to take refuge there."

“I did not know,” muttered the Duke. The girl seemed to put him in the wrong whenever she spoke.
“Not Brittany, then. Still, the idea is a good one. Perhaps you could go elsewhere, and we could put it
about that you had returned to the family estates. With the political situation as explosive as it is in
France, it is almost impossible that anyone would be likely to prove us wrong."

“That would do,” agreed the girl. “There remains the question of our true destination."

“Have you no relatives, no friends anywhere?” probed the Duke, feeling like a murderer.

“None,” said Tiri. “We have each other,Maman and I. We shall survive.” She squared her shoulders.
“Now as to details. Will you circulate the news of our—our sudden recall to France? When would it be
best for us to go?"

“You have forgotten one very important matter,” said the Duke. “If you disappear from Polite Society,
how will you make this advantageous marriage you so eagerly seek?"

The girl stared at him. “From what I have already seen of the Polite World, I shall not at all miss
marrying into it. My mother and I have already discussed alternatives,” she said haughtily, to end the
discussion.

His Grace was not to be put off so easily. “Such as?"

The starkness of the question caught her off guard. She began to stammer, “Companion ... governess...”
At his smiling incredulity, she snapped, “Housemaid, if need be! It is honest work!"

“But not work to which you are accustomed,” Daral put in.

“I can learn! I am not stupid, Your Grace!"

“Daral,” he reminded her.

The girl gazed resentfully at him. He seemed much relaxed, cheerful even, as the forecast for her own
future grew darker. She began to feel the stirring of that temper which so often betrayed her. With an
effort of will she subdued it, and spoke in a consciously brighter voice.

“My mother has a—a possible situation in view. When she is—established, she will no doubt be able to
place me."

“No,” said His Grace firmly.

The girl's eyes widened. “No?” she faltered.

“No. If you think I am going to have it known throughout London that my fiancée is the protégée of a
ne'er-do-well like Hilary Conray!—"

“How dare you!” gasped the girl. “I would not be your fiancée by that time!"

The Duke ignored this. “I do not know what sort of agreement Dani has come to with that middle-aged
adventurer, butyou, my dear Therese, are not going to be any part of aménage à trois-even as their

housemaid! No,” halting her furious attempt to reply with an uplifted hand and an equally furious
countenance, “you will be quiet, Tiri, and allow those older and wiser than yourself to get us out of this
imbroglio!” He glared at the angry girl until he was satisfied that she was silenced. Then he said, more
gently, “I shall order a small, closed carriage to take you back to Mall House. Tell your mama I shall wait
upon you both, late this afternoon, to avoid the press of your callers.” He rose and gave her a quizzical
smile."Damn Prinny!” he said, with laughter in his voice. “As usual, rushing in with his romantic notions,
when a more satisfactory solution might have worked itself out if he'd left us to our own devices!"

What was that supposed to mean? wondered Tiri, at once confused and excited by the warmth of the
smile he was giving her.

Hull had the small, closed hackney waiting at the side door, on the drive that led to the Duke's stables.
Daral helped Tiri in, and before he closed the door, he gave her a final warning.

“The coachman has orders to take you to the mews at the rear of Mall House, so you can slip in through
the kitchen. Tell Dani I'll see you both this afternoon. And please, Tiri! No desperate decisions until we
meet?” He bent over and pressed a hard kiss on her lips. “Agreed?"

“Yes, Daral,” said the girl, amazed at how easy and pleasant submission to the arrogant Duke could be.

CHAPTER 11

The invitation from Carlton House arrived that morning. Fallow took it at once to his mistress's door
and gave it to her dresser with a speaking look.

Lady Letitia had never aspired to hobnob with the Royal Family. She was also aware that Their
Majesties heartily disapproved of Carlton House, the private establishment of the Prince of Wales. The
Duchess had certainly never expected to be invited to a mansion that was the talk of England. Yet here
was the invitation, delivered by hand, writ fair upon heavy paper, requesting the presence of the Duchess
of Lansdale and her house guests to dinner and an evening of music! Wild horses could not have kept her
away.

Commanding her dresser to finish with her hair quickly, she sent a maid to inform the Frenchwomen of
the honor to be done them. Rather to her surprise, both ladies waited upon her at once. In spite of her
pleasure in the royal invitation, Lady Letitia could not resist a waspish remark. Noting their bandbox
neatness and their modish gowns, she said, “You are early up, ladies! Or are you just getting to bed?"

“I have just returned from a conference with the Duke,” said Tiri quietly. “He is coming here late this
afternoon to consult with us all—"

The Duchess interrupted. “You have called upon my son already this morning?” she stared censoriously
at Dani. “Did you know your daughter was making such an unconventional call, madame?"

“She did not,” Tiri answered. “I believed you were as anxious as I am to have this false engagement
ended."

Since this was undeniable, Lady Letitia's guns were spiked. There was now, however, the matter of the
invitation to Carlton House. The Duchess had to admit that she owed it to the Frenchwomen. If she got
rid of them too soon, there might be awkward questions asked by the Prince. She forced an amiable
expression onto her features.

“Oh, I have been thinking about that,” she said airily. “I am quite sure we should do nothing to stir up
conjecture until the end of the Season.” Ignoring their expressions of surprise, she went on hastily, “Did
you say my son was coming today to discuss the subject? I shall try to persuade him not to do anything
disruptive until the engagement has ceased to be a matter of gossip."

There seemed little to say in response to this, although Tiri was privately of the opinion that, much as she
might wish the pseudo contract to continue, His Grace was not one to be lightly persuaded. Dani and Tiri
went down to the morning room, where breakfast was being served. While they were eating, Fallow
entered; he looked very conscious of the message he brought.

“A gentleman to see the Countess. It is Sir Hilary Conray."

Dani debated whether to ask him to join them for coffee, but reluctantly decided against it. This was not
her own home; she did not feel that Lady Letitia would welcome “the adventurer.” She rose gracefully
and, with a smile of reassurance for Tiri, followed Fallow to the drawing room.

Sir Hilary was striding impatiently up and down among the heavy furniture. He came to her at once and
seized both her hands in his almost before Fallow had closed the door.

“Sweetheart!” breathed Sir Hilary.

Loosing her hands, he took the full, soft, fragrant body into his arms and kissed Dani's lips.

The blue eyes widened and then closed languorously. After a timeless time, she released herself gently.

The man stood back a pace. His strong lean face was tired and lined. “I have missed you,” he said
simply.

“Your roses were beautiful,” Dani murmured.

“I have been—away,” he told her. “Otherwise I would have been with you every day, despite your
resident dragon!"

Dani's soft throaty laughter seemed to please him. He caught her close again."When, Dani? When can
we be together?"

The woman moved a little in his embrace. Sir Hilary released her at once, but he stood staring intently
down into her beautiful face.

“Do you understand at all how much I want you?” he muttered.

“Is it as much as I want you?” ventured Dani.

He caught her to him again."Dani!"

She gazed up at him, her expression was serious. “Matters resolve themselves,” she said slowly, “but not
quite as I had hoped.” She told him in a few sentences exactly the state of affairs. “The Duke is to come
here late today to give us his final instructions. It appears Tiri and I shall be taking flight to Brittany—"

“No!"protested Sir Hilary. “The situation in Paris iswhite hot! You must not return to France!"

“We shall not,” Dani replied quietly. “No one there would welcome us. It is—how do you say?—a
trick? No, a ruse, to save face for the Duke and for ourselves, too, after the Prince's interference."

“Then where do you go?” demanded Sir Hilary.

Dani shrugged. “If His Grace has no special plan for us, we shall probably go to another, smaller
town—Brighton, or Bath. I shall set up as a modiste, with Tiri's help.” She smiled wryly."Le bon Dieu
knows there is room and to spare in this England for a clever needlewoman who isau courant with high
style."

Sir Hilary wore a horrendous frown. “Brighton? Bath? But which—and when—and how will you get
there? To say nothing of the cost of setting up a salon and keeping yourselves until your business is
established! I cannot permit it!"

“No?” Dani's clear blue eyes looked straight into his worried brown ones.

Sir Hilary moved away to pace restlessly up and down the gloomy room. “Dani—” he began.

“Do not concern yourself, Hilary,” the woman said gently. “I will get in touch with you when we are
settled. I have your address."

“Damn!” said Sir Hilary, and strode from the room.

Dani stared for a long time at the door through which he had vanished; her wide eyes were curiously
blank.

The Duke faced a subdued trio of ladies in the drawing room late that afternoon. Under his
imperturbable front seethed a deep excitement, but the time was not yet arrived to disclose his real intent.
At the moment, he had instructions for them all. Speaking in a firm, almost harsh voice, he explained the
roles he wanted them to play.

“We shall all go to Carlton House to Prinny'ssoirée. That is five days from today.” He took three
packets of bank notes from one pocket of his black superfine coat and handed one to each of the
women. “You will buy the most striking gowns you can acquire in the time you have,” he commanded. “I
wish to see you all garbed in a style befitting my consequence."

This arrogant order was received with varying degrees of annoyance by his companions. Only his mama,
however, had the courage—or the foolhardiness—to challenge him.

“This gift of money is insulting!” she fumed. “As though we were all women of easy virtue!” She glared at
Dani. “Would it not be morebefitting your consequence if the gowns were to be charged to your
account at the dressmaker's?"

His Grace shrugged. “So long as you each get one with all the accessories."

“I have a costume,” persisted his mother.

“You have nothing that will do for Carlton House,” snapped her son. “I have no wish to be embarrassed
before the Ton."

Dani, now watching them closely, almost prayed that the Duke would not suggest that his mama consult
the Frenchwomen. That would indeed put paid to a scheme of her own—to coax and lure the Duchess
into accepting her advice.It is little enough to do, to repay her for having us, Dani thought.Reluctant,
crabbed, cheese-paring she undoubtedly is, but she gave us a roof and food and her sponsorship.
It might have worked out...

The Duchess had abandoned her small rebellion and was folding the money neatly into her capacious
reticule.

“As for you, Countess, and your daughter, I wish you to present your most impressive appearance.
There is a gentleman who may be persuaded to offer for Therese. Oh, he is aware of the equivocal
nature of our contract and does not too much regard it."

“He will be attending the Prince'ssoirée?" asked Tiri.

“He will. A word inyour ear, Madame la Comtesse. The Prince has spoken of you frequently. He is
muchépris. I must advise you to be on your guard!"

Although this was lightly rather than seriously spoken, Dani failed to meet the comment with her usual
sparkle of humor. Instead, she bent her golden head submissively. The other three stared at her in
surprise. Tiri particularly had an anxious expression on her lovely face. What had happened toMaman?
After the visit with Sir Hilary, Tiri had expected Dani to be in high gig. Instead there was almost a stunned
look deep in her mother's eyes. Had she quarreled with her adventurer, who was, if Dani spoke truly, the
only man she had ever wanted to marry? Poor Dani! Tiri shook her head. The foray into England was not
at all working out as they had envisioned it! But perhaps it would be better, in this new land, to work out
an independent life for themselves. Tiri squared her small shoulders.We shall contrive! she told herself.
She did not have much faith in the mysterious gentleman who was willing to overlook her engagement to
a noted peer of the realm.

Of course he could be some country bumpkin who would never get close enough to the Beau Monde
again in his life to make his wife's history a drawback. Or he could be a grossnouveau riche, insensitive
to slights. Would any such be welcomed at Carlton House? Tiri did not know. Certainly the Unknown
would not be the young Earl of Swanden, who would assuredly have guardians to protect him from such
a regrettablemésalliance!

Wearily she shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyes—to encounter the probing thrust of His Grace's
emerald glance. It seemed to go through her to her very heart, a piercing cold green challenge.What do
you want of me? the girl longed to cry out.Can you not let me go quietly?

As though he could read her thoughts, the Duke advanced to stand before her. He extended an
imperious hand and drew her to her feet. “I think it is time Therese and I talked privately,” he said in the
authoritative tones that set his mama's teeth on edge. Since she was eager to count the sum her son had
given her, however, she raised an eyebrow and then rose and left the room. Dani, without a glance at her
daughter, followed.

Tiri stared after her. The Duke noted the direction of her gaze. “Something is wrong? Your mama is not
well?"

Tiri had no wish to discuss the details of her mother's condition with the Duke. “What did you want to
speak to me about?” she asked.

This was not too promising. The Duke, who had never been a womanizer, nor indeed very much
interested in the run of sillydébutantes who had come in his way, was not quite sure how to proceed with
this difficult little filly. He could take a high hand, but that might antagonize the girl, a development to be
avoided, if his plan was to succeed. Instead he tried the effect of a coaxing smile.

“Come, Tiri, why that Friday face? Am I not doing my utmost to bring about a happy ending to our little
story? Let us be friends!"

Tiri stared up at him with such amazement at his change of front that the Duke was almost betrayed into
a chuckle.

“You wish to be my friend?” she asked incredulously.

“Why not?” The Duke scrutinized the lovely little face with interest. He was not quite sure what it was
about the girl that drew him so strongly, for she was red-haired, and he had never cared for that color on
a woman's head. It denoted bad temper, he'd always thought. She was small, almost tiny, and he'd
always liked tall, willowy females. Yet, small, red-haired kitten that she was, spitting fire at the slightest
provocation, he couldn't get her out of his mind. She was beginning to fascinate him, so that he found
himself seeing her wide blue eyes, her small straight nose, and her soft, vulnerable mouth when he should
be attending to the business of his estate with his agent, or a difficult hand of cards at White's or Watier's.
He caught himself going off into a foolish vagueness now as he lost himself in her sea-deep blue gaze.

“Miss Therese!” he said, as sternly as though she had been the one at fault.

Her small face took on a worried expression. She answered his earlier question a little hesitantly. “I have
not been ignorant of the trouble to which you and your mother have been put as a result of King Louis's
high-handed request that you give us sanctuary,” she faltered. “Nor have I been unmindful of your
continuing kindness. My reluctance to believe in your offer of friendship springs, I think, from my own
embarrassment at being a cause of distress to you—and from my inability to repay your benevolence."

This did not please His Grace. It seemed to lock their association into a bounty giving-charity receiving
framework that seriously inhibited the kind of relationship he wanted to establish. He was not a green lad,
however, and began to understand how to deal with the problem. He smiled disarmingly.

“I accept your thanks, and must hasten to assure you that entertaining your charming mother and yourself
has been an unalloyed pleasure. Your style, your beauty, your winning ways quite enhance my own
reputation in the Ton."

Tiri's eyes opened wider, if that was possible. Heliked her! He was not bored, disgruntled, annoyed!
She returned his smile with a curiously sweet softening of her own expression. “Thank you, Your Grace."

The Duke mimed gentle exasperation."Daral, if you please, Tiri! How often must I ask it of you?"

“Thank you, Daral,” murmured Tiri, blushing adorably.

“You know,” said the fascinated nobleman, “your cheeks become peach-colored, rather than red.
Blushing does not conflict with your—auburn hair."

Tiri chuckled. “I know I should powder it, but it's such a bother!"

“Never seek to hide it,” urged the Duke. “I believe you might have started a new trend, except for the

fact that few women have hair whose color is so beautiful!"

In perfect charity with one another, The Duke and his mother's guest seated themselves together upon a
loveseat. This cozy proximity so delighted the Duke that he launched happily into a recital of his plan for
the next few days.

“We must be seen together,” he told the wide-eyed girl. “With adequate chaperonage, of course!” he
added sternly. The girl nodded.

Pleased with this acquiescence, Daral went on, “Tomorrow we shall invite your mama to accompany us
upon apicnic—une fête champêtre, you would say? It has seemed to me that our London reek has
stolen the roses from her cheeks. Then, the following day, you both must come to my home for a lesson.”
He paused, eyebrows provocatively raised, for her inevitable question.

Tiri did not disappoint him. “A lesson, Daral?” she challenged. “In what—or dare I ask?"

“Waltzing,” replied the naughty creature. “When next we appear at Almacks', I cannot have it said we
are awkward with our steps!"

Tiri was the victim of an irresistible urge to laugh aloud, to sing, to waltz. Whatever the devious
gentleman had in mind, Tiri was ready to try it. She felt herself unfolding to his charm like a flower in
strong sunlight. In spite of this surge of emotion, she was able to restrict her response to a simple, “Oh,
yes, Daral!"

It seemed to satisfy His Grace. “That will occupy two days—” he began judiciously.

“Could we not ... practice the waltz more than once?” suggested Tiri, greatly daring. “We may find that I
am a slow learner, and I would not wish to embarrass you at Almacks'."

The idea of holding the delectable little armful close to his manly frame upon several occasions and to
music, at that, which would involve a deal of swaying and providing directional pressures-was so
intoxicating to the Duke that he was forced to cough to relieve a tightness in his throat. “We must indeed
practice more than once,” he agreed, already regretting the involvement in the picnic the following day.

“Time must also be set aside for the choosing of a suitable costume for the Prince's musical evening,”
added the girl practically.

“Surely that will not take up too much time,” objected Daral, already begrudging every minute not given
to practice of the waltz.

Terri was forced to smile gently at such naiveté. “Quite a bit, I should say,” she informed him."Maman
and I will wish to make you proud of us—or at least,” she amended, “not ashamed."

The Duke took her hand. “That would be impossible!” he averred so positively that the girl's heart
accelerated with a stronger beat.

Only the entrance of Lady Letitia, avid to know what was the subject that was keeping her son closeted
with the little French girl for so long, prevented him from translating speech into action. At his mother's,
“Ah! There you are, Daral!” he rose with what civility he could dredge up and bowed slightly.

“I have finished outlining the program I intend to follow in the days preceding the Prince'ssoirêe," he

said, rather less composedly than he would have wished.

His mama peered suspiciously at Tiri and the Duke.

The girl was cool enough remarkably collected considering the waves of alternating delight and alarm
that were battering at her poise. She now rose and sketched a pretty curtsey at the Duchess. “I shall
rejoin mymaman now,” she said. “There is much to be done to prepare for the Prince's entertainment."

She found Dani in their room, considering their costumes. She looked up as her daughter entered and
smiled a greeting. Tiri was so pleased to see hermaman free of the listlessness that had so alarmed her
that she ran forward and hugged Dani.

“Where shall we go for our dresses,Maman?" she asked eagerly.

Dani pursed her lips. “We scarcely know the city, pet, and we can hardly rely upon our hostess to guide
us to the most modish dressmaker in London!” They shared a speaking look.

Then Tiri offered hesitantly, “I had wondered if we might not help the Duchess with her choice—"

Dani nodded resolutely. “Exactly my own idea. But it must be done so carefully! She is as prickly as a
thornbush!” They considered the idea in silence, and then Dani said quietly, “I shall probably get my head
bitten off, but I think I shall make the attempt—for the Duke's sake, if nothing else."

Tiri agreed wholeheartedly with that reasoning.

Giving herself a critical glance in the mirror, Dani set her shoulders. “Wish me well,ma petite." Her smile
was steady.

"Bonne chance, Maman!"the girl replied with equal courage.

A few minutes later, Dani was tapping lightly at the door of the Duchess's suite. A harsh voice from
within bade her enter. When she did so, she was met by a rather surprising sight. Lady Letitia was alone,
and she had several dresses spread out on her heavy fourposter bed.

Pleased that the subject was, in a sense, already introduced, Dani came directly to the point. “Ah,
madame, I see that we both have the same problem. I had wondered if you might be so gracious as to
introduce me to your dressmaker."

“Why should you wish that, when it is obvious that you do not at all admire my appearance?” demanded
the Duchess with logic.

This was going to take more than courage or good luck, Dani decided. Perhaps the key was honesty.
She looked serenely into the older woman's face and proceeded.

“Your son wishes us all to do him proud at the Prince'ssoirée. I know that I can help you to appear well.
Will you let me try?” There, it was out! Complete honesty; complete willingness to help. Dani waited for
the other woman's response.

There was a longish pause, and then the Duchess said harshly, “Why should you bother? We have not
been on friendly terms, madame."

“I bother because Tiri and I wish you to please your son. You have given us shelter in a strange country.
We are in your debt for that."

Lady Letitia went down with flags flying. “I did not want you here, and I have not tried to make your
stay pleasant—for various reasons. Still, I would be—grateful if you could give me some of your
alamodality."

Dani's shoulders relaxed. “A pleasure, madame! Now, we have five days. If you know of a good little
seamstress, I can help her to design and cut out something that will please you. The color, I think, should
be soft, possibly a green but not emerald. That is too harsh.” She rattled on to prevent the Duchess from
changing her mind. “Tonight we will sketch some flattering styles. Tomorrow, we buy the cloth—velvet, I
think. It is soft, yet it has dignity."

“Why green?” asked the Duchess warily.

“Because your eyes have a fascinating green tint to them. Your son must inherit them from you! It would
be a charming tribute to emphasize their color, don't you think?"

Lady Letitia looked as though she had never in her life had such a thought. Still, the wariness was
gradually leaving her expression and was replaced by a wakening interest in the project at hand. “Green
velvet?” she murmured. “I do not think I have had a gown of that material before."

“And now the sketches,” Dani encouraged her. “Have you pens and paper we may use?"

While these were being sent for, Dani took a penetrating, if guarded look at Lady Letitia's figure. The
result pleased her. “We are indeed fortunate in your figure,” she announced.

At once her hostess resumed her suspicious look.

Dani hastened to explain. “If you were one of those obese creatures whom we saw waddling about at
Almacks', it would be hard to create the elegantly simple effect I have in mind. You have slenderness and
good bones. Also you carry yourself with pride—if perhaps a little stiffly. Yes, we shall do very well!"

The pad and pen were delivered and Dani drew out a small table and seated herself at it. She looked
from the Duchess to her sketching and back again. The older woman seemed rooted to the spot; hope
and suspicion warred in her countenance. Shortly Dani held her head back, cast a final look at her
hostess and said, “Voila!Tell me what you think, madame!"

Almost reluctantly the Duchess stepped forward and took up the sketch. She stared at it in silence. Then
she scowled at Dani.

“I do not look like this! You are making a fool of me!"

“On the contrary,” said Dani positively, “you will look better than that when I have finished with you. I
intend to apply yourmaquillage also, madame! We Frenchwomen have some secrets I shall share with
you."

Looking both scandalized and fascinated, Lady Letitia said slowly, “I have nomaqu— no paints,
madame."

“I have enough for us both,” Dani assured her, and for the first time in the consultation, she smiled.

The Duchess stared hard at the lovely little Frenchwoman. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded, all
her doubts and fears clearly revealed.

Because my foolish daughter loves your son,Dani was tempted to say, but the secret was not hers to
reveal. So she met the other woman's gaze openly and replied, “Because I cannot bear to see any
woman looking so much less than her best."

Lady Letitia accepted the truth of that remark.

The Duke's plans for a picnic had to be postponed for the day, as he discovered when he arrived,
unfashionably early, at Mall House. He was informed by a curious Fallow that all three ladies had gone
out to scour the shops for bolts of cloth, ribbands, and slippers—and Heaven only knew what other
fripperies. When challenged by the irate Duke, he confessed that he had had his information from Her
Grace's dresser, who was even more agog than her mistress. At first His Grace was inclined to be sullen
at the betrayal of his plans for the day, but oddly enough, Fallow's excited interest in the acquiring of
alamodality by his mistress soothed Daral's ruffled feelings.

“So they are seeking to bring Mama into style,” he grinned. “I can hardly wait to see the results!"

This treat was denied him for the moment, however. After two hours of kicking his heels in the morning
room and drinking his mama's indifferent coffee, the Duke left Mall House in rather a huff, stopping only
long enough to deliver the message that when—orif!— the ladies had need of him, hemight be found at
his home, or he might not!

And that will teach them a lesson!grinned Fallow behind the Duke's back, as he closed the front door
softly. The whole staff were much interested in the changes that seemed to be taking place since the
Frenchwomen arrived. The consensus was that it had been A Good Thing: invitations to the Palace, and
Almacks', and now to Carlton House! New clothes for the mistress! Perhaps there might even be more
money spent on food, ventured an under-housemaid. This gullibility was laughed at, but even the
gloomiest member of the staff was forced to admit that things had changed for the better at Mall House.

The Duke heard no more from the wayward ladies until later that evening, when one of milady's footmen
arrived with a note from Tiri. In it she explained that the ladies were working very hard to do His Grace
justice at Carlton House, and that he must have patience with them, since it was all being done for his
sake.

“I beg leave to doubtthat!" muttered Daral cynically. He was a little mollified by a hastily scribbled
footnote: “Dear Daral, I was so very sorry to miss our picnic, but perhaps I can slip away tomorrow for
my waltz lesson while your mama and mine and the seamstress are busily engaged."

This thought so soothed His Grace's ruffled feelings that he was quite in charity with his mama and Dani,
and he resolved to place the violinist whom he had hired to play for the waltz lessons behind a handsome
Chinese screen—just so his presence in the ballroom would not cause Tiri to feel constraint or
embarrassment. In fact the thought of the morrow's exercise so pleased the Duke that he ate his supper
with excellent appetite, and he behaved with special kindness toward all the staff who came into contact
with him.

He was ready betimes the following day, although his valet had acquired a nasty headache at his master's
vacillations.

“Made me change his coat three times, he did,” the valet complained to Hull later in the day. “And a full
bath this morning, as well as the new scent he puts on his face after I shave him!"

“Be thankful that's all he made you do,” said Hull repressively. “We've had to change the flowers twice
in the ballroom, and Chef is beside himself with the contradictory ordershe's been getting. You'd think we
were entertaining Royalty!"

In spite of all the grumbling, the staff at Lansdale House were almost as excited as their master when the
closed carriage drew up in front of the house just before noon. A small veiled figure, accompanied by a
grim-looking maid-servant, descended and hurried up into the front hall.

“His Nibs won't likethat," said Hull, as he watched the maid follow her mistress into the house. Inspired
to an almost fanatic loyalty, he required the woman to accompany one of the footmen to the kitchen for a
cup of tea while she waited.

The Duke observed this skillful maneuver from the first landing, where he had found reason to linger for
the last quarter of an hour. Resolving to give Hull an increase in salary that very day, he sauntered down
with every appearance of arrogant calmness to greet his little veiled visitor. Taking her small cold hand
warmly in his large one, he led her to a cheerful morning room where a tempting collation was set out.

This sight so reassured the girl that she removed her shrouding veil quickly and beamed upon the Duke
and the well-laden table with impartial pleasure. The Duke seated her and took his place at her side.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said, with startling originality.

“Oh, yes, Daral!” was the brilliant reply.

Both began to eat; they found it a good excuse to avoid talking for the moment. Very soon, Tiri was
aware of the excellence of the repast. “This is delicious!” she exclaimed. “You must have a French chef!”
Then, feeling perhaps that this artless comment might be offensive to an English nobleman, she said “Oh!”
and blushed.

The Duke was enchanted by her perceptivity and wit.

When the delightful meal was at last finished, the two rose and smiled into one another's eyes. Then the
Duke led his guest into the vast, empty ballroom. They had no sooner entered than the sweet notes of a
violin sounded, playing a sprightly tune.

Tiri looked up shyly at the Duke. “It is like magic,” she whispered.

“Yes,” agreed the Duke, and he took her into his arms.

The lesson, while rather lengthy, was much enjoyed by both teacher and pupil. Eventually, however, Tiri
recollected her obligations.

“I must go,” she breathed, staring up into the handsome face.

The man's green eyes darkened into emerald. “No,” he begged.

“Yes,” the girl said. “Ourmamans will be wondering where I have got to."

“They do not know you are with me?” Tiri smiled. “They are very busy indeed with the seamstress and
your mama's dresser. If I am lucky, they will not yet have missed me. I am supposed,” she admitted,
blushing, “to be taking a refreshing drive in the park."

The Duke escorted her reluctantly back to the hall and sent a footman for her maid. This dazzled
creature accepted a huge present for her forbearance—and her silence—and Hull himself assisted the
ladies into their carriage.

“Well done, Hull,” his master told him when the front door was closed again.

“Yes, Your Grace,” answered the butler. “A most successful visit."

Tiri's absence may have been noted, but nothing was said to the girl by either of the older ladies. Instead,
they regaled her with a fleeting glimpse of the two garments they were constructing. They had been
fortunate enough to find exactly the shade of soft green velvet that Dani had envisioned for the Duchess,
while for herself the Frenchwoman had chosen deep purple satin, grape with the bloom of silver. When
Tiri wondered at the unusual color with her mother's golden hair, Dani said that she intended wearing it
poudrée from now on. Noting the sadness which lurked behind hermaman's lighthearted smile, Tiri
forbore to comment, but she wished very hard indeed that they had never met the dashing and enigmatic
Sir Hilary at the Golden Swan in Calais!

The Duchess continued to surprise Tiri. When Dani asked that additional seamstresses be brought in, so
that all three gowns might be completed by the day of Prinny'ssoirée, Lady Letitia demanded snappishly
who was expected to pay for the extra service? Dani kept her poise and contented herself with
remarking that of course each lady would pay for her own share from the funds His Grace had so
generously provided. This mollified the older woman, although she still seemed to feel suspicious of her
unwelcome guests. Her mood was tempered by the really charming appearance of her new gown, which,
thanks to Dani's unerring eye for style and line, was the most attractive garment anyone had ever seen her
wear. As the Duchess realized that Dani's help was effective in presenting her hostess in better mode, her
suspicions began to vanish.

Tiri could not have cared less for her new gown except that she hoped it would please His Grace. She
was forced to admit that she had fallen wholeheartedly for the green-eyed Englishman, and that her day
revolved around any meeting with him, or even a message when he could not attend upon the ladies at
Mall House. The dizzying delight of the waltzing lesson had not been repeated; partly because of the
demands that the seamstresses had made upon the ladies, and partly, as a hasty note explained to Tiri,
because an unexpected summons of an undisclosed nature had made it impossible for him to wait upon
the ladies until the morning of thesoirée—at which time he hoped he might be permitted to take
Mademoiselle de Granville for a refreshing spin through the park in his new phaeton. It was signed,
“Yours, Daral;” a quite mundane and conventional signature that had Tiri's seventeen-year-old heart
beating joyously.

CHAPTER 12

Only one incident marred the busy period before the Prince's musical evening. The Duchess was
summoned down to her drawing room to meet two visitors—her cousin Amelia and the latter's daughter.

After the rather strained attitudes with which they had parted, Lady Letitia was surprised to find her old
crony in attendance upon her that afternoon. In fact, she had at first considered denying herself to the
visitors—as she had already done to two gabble-mongers who had called earlier—but the memories of

long friendship were more influential than the suspicions generated by Daral's comments upon the ladies.
She came down prepared to chat for a moment and then excuse herself with a plea of the demands of
her dressmaker—a rather satisfying excuse considering the critical opinion that her cousin held
concerning Letitia's taste in clothing.

To her surprise, the two women were all smiles, and even had a small gift of a jet necklace for Letitia to
wear to thesoirée. “It belonged to my mama,” breathed Lady Amelia with what Letitia recognized as a
rather affected manner, especially since her cousin's mother had been an old harridan no one had liked.
“It should be suitable for your black satin,” added Amelia in an attempt to find out what her cousin
intended to wear.

It became clear to Letitia that Amelia was reconsidering her behavior toward her cousin in the light of the
startling new notice being paid her by the Royals. First the Presentation, then the visit of Princess Mary to
take the French girl out in her carriage, and now the invitation to one of the Prince of Wales's notorious
parties. Of course there would be nothinglike that, she had assured Lady Bridget. Prinny's musical
evenings were famous for the elegance and decorum which prevailed at them, but of course his
well-known predilection to serve too much food and drink amidst too exotic decorations was equally
well known.

Bridget had not been willing to forgive the slights she imagined the Duke and his guests had put upon her.
She had almost to be dragged to Mall House, and she predicted a dire set-down or, at least, a lack of
welcome from her Mama's proposed hostess.

In the event, Lady Letitia was pleasant enough and was too busy to recall old wounds; her mind was
filled with the delicious thoughts of her modish costume and the proposedmaquillage. She did retain
enough caution to refrain from describing these delights to her old friend, who, she was well aware,
would make short work of them. When she excused herself after a bare fifteen minutes of constrained
conversation, Lady Bridget could not resist a final barb.

“Has the Prince made your older guestan offer yet, Cousin Letitia? I understand the clubs are buzzing
with wagers as to when he will set her up in a cozy little maisonette! Well, that will get her off your hands,
at any rate!"

“Bridget!” said her mama in awful tones that did not hide the spark of avid interest in her eyes.

Lady Letitia, who might have joined in their censure of the Frenchwoman a few days earlier, or at least
whispered over a few salacious details, now felt an unaccustomed surge of loyalty for the little female
who was working cheerfully to make her look more attractive. It gave her pleasure to say, repressively,
“Madame la Comtesse has behaved with perfect propriety while inmy house, Bridget! I cannot think
where you pick up these gutter rumors! Perhaps your mama should advise you as to the unpleasant light
such comments cast upon your own sense of decorum!"

Infuriated by this reproof, yet unable to argue the matter, the two visitors took their leave with even less
than their usual civility.

As they entered their carriage, Bridget sneered, “Well, Mama, you wasted the jet necklace! I hope you
are satisfied!"

“Certainly not withyour behavior! No wonder you lost Daral!” This last comment silenced both the
ladies.

The Duchess went back upstairs to the dressmaking activity and felt in warmer charity with her French
guests than at any time since their arrival. When she showed the jet necklace to Dani, the Frenchwoman
regarded it carefully. Then she said, exercising a tact well learned in French aristocratic circles, “It is a
very charming piece, Lady Letitia, and will complement that gray morning gown that I have seen you
wear. But for tomorrow night, something more impressiveof your own, don't you agree? The emerald
parure you wore to the Presentation? It will look splendid with the softer, light green of the velvet, and it
is a most striking tribute to the Lansdale green eyes."

“They are aMall characteristic,” corrected Lady Letitia, but her heart was not in the rebuke. This Dani
was a witch! She had almost forced Lady Letitia into a friendship—a dependence that might end
disastrously, but which offered a comfort the Englishwoman had never experienced before.

CHAPTER 13

The day of Prinny's soiree dawned. While the two Frenchwomen were still enjoying coffee in their
rooms, Fallow came up to present a box to Dani. The maid who accepted it and brought it to Dani was
clearly agog. Flowers in bouquets, flowers in armloads, flowers in posies—all had been delivered to this
glamorous little Frenchwoman with the real golden hair; never before had she received a small florist's
box containing a single dark red rose.

There was no card.

Dani kept her countenance until the maid had left, and then said to Tiri on a sob, “Why?"

“He loves you,” comforted her daughter. “You will just have to trust him, I think."

“But he left me without a word ... an explanation ... a promise to return!” said Dani forlornly. “He has
never even said he loves me!"

“Perhaps that is not so easy for an Englishman to say—if it is true,” comforted Tiri with a wisdom
beyond her years. “Perhaps it is easier to say if theydon't mean it?"

Dani uttered a watery chuckle. “You have reason, my little one. I should be glad that a too-facile flattery
is not part of Hilary's nature, I suppose, but, oh! Tiri—!” She could not continue.

Tiri distracted her mother's gloomy thoughts with a question as to the suitability of the slippers she had
chosen for the evening's concert. The gown that had been made for the French girl was an exquisite one:
It was really very simple, taking its style from the gentle, almost virginal drape of the soft apricot silk
which flattered Tiri's red gold locks. It was a young girl's dress, without artifice or decoration. The bodice
was modestly heart-shaped above her swelling breasts. A wide sash bound it close at the girl's narrow
waist, the ties falling to the hem at the back. Slippers of bronze kid peeped out beneath the skirt. Her
only ornament was the sapphire bracelet the Duke had given her, which she insisted upon wearing. Dani
wore her diamond parure. Her hair was powdered with a new, grayish talcum called French chalk.

The great triumph was the Duchess. Dani had hurried through her own toilette in order to superintend the
dressing and painting of her hostess. Lady Letitia's dresser, the most envied servant at Mall House, was
the only person permitted in to behold the Mysteries. First Dani carefully coiffed the hair, which the
dresser, at her orders, had washed early in the day. The Duchess's own hair was, in its natural state, a
depressing iron gray, so Dani was quite reconciled to powdering it. The style she had chosen was a
flattering one, softer about the face than Lady Letitia usually wore, and partly covering her large ears.

When the hair was powdered, Dani removed the cape and motioned for the new dress. This was slipped
over the Duchess's head with great care not to ruffle the coiffure. Then, staring hard at the Duchess
figure, Dani asked her to turn slowly. Duchess and dresser held their breath under that ruthless scrutiny.

Dani nodded sharply. “Excellent! The color brings out your eyes, and the style is flattering yet dignified."

Letitia craned to glimpse herself in the mirror, but was told quite sharply to stand still. Dani made some
minor adjustments to the waist. Then, still solemn, she ordered the Duchess to reseat herself at the
dressing table and brought out a small black leather case.

The dresser's eyes nearly popped out of her head as Dani opened the case and brought out several small
pots and bottles. Then the serious work of the evening began. A softly flowing deep cream liquid was
smoothed gently onto the Duchess's face. This was followed by a blush of pinky brown paste, most of
which, the dresser thought, was wiped off. Still, what remained gave Her Grace's skin a bloom that it had
lacked for many years. Then a soft green powder was rubbed in above the green eyes, which made them
suddenly important, even striking. Finally a brownish red liquid was brushed onto the Duchess's lips.

“Do not move so much as an eyelash!” Dani warned. “We must allow these various lotions and pastes to
dry, lest they become smudged, and the whole to be done over!"

The Duchess did not even dare to reply. Instead she faced herself in the mirror—and her mouth sagged
slightly. She could not believe that this handsome—even pretty?—woman who stared back at her out of
a rosy face with such dazzling green eyes could be Lady Letitia Mall.Why, her mind wailed silently,did I
not know these tricks earlier?

Dani was viewing her creation with satisfaction. “You do me proud,” she said sincerely. “I have an idea
there will be heads turning and eyes opening tonight at Carlton House!"

“May I speak?” asked Letitia, through carefully rigid lips.

“Yes,” answered Dani. “You should be dry now."

“Thank you,” said the Duchess of Lansdale.

The dresser was staring openmouthed and goggle-eyed.

“You may close your mouth, Perkin,” said Lady Letitia kindly. It was the first time Dani had heard the
dresser's name.

“I cannot wait to see the Duke's expression when he sees you.” The Frenchwoman grinned.

“Nor can I,” agreed his mother, a touch grimly. “He will not know me."

Dani thrust to the heart of the matter. “It is a chance for a new beginning,” she said softly. “Forgive me if
I am wrong, but I believe you are in greater charity with your son recently."

Old habits die hard. Lady Letitia cast a wary look at the Frenchwoman, as if to ask what there might be
in such a reconciliation for her. But she did not say it. Instead she smiled ruefully.

“If I changed too suddenly, Daral might have a seizure,” was all she said.

It is to be recorded that the Duke of Lansdale did not recognize his mother in the first glimpse he got of
the three ladies moving toward him down the dark stairway at Mall House. Almost at once, however, he
knew her, although his eyes remained on her face for a long incredulous moment, and then swept down
the tall figure with growing admiration.

“My compliments,” he said sincerely and bowed over her hand.

Lady Letitia smiled. She was almost afraid to disturb the attractive mask that was her face, although
Dani had assured her that it was uncrackable. “It is not hard, like so many of your countrywomen wear,”
she had explained. “This is a softer, more flexible—is that the word I wish?—maquillage."

Gaining confidence by the minute, Lady Letitia turned to her guests. “You have not yet greeted Madame
Dani and Tiri,” she said more gently than Daral had heard her speak.

His admiring look swept over the two Frenchwomen."Ravissante," he breathed; there was a grin on his
lips and a challenge in his eyes. He kissed both white hands, even Tiri's, although she was not a married
lady.Yet, his eyes told her as he raised his powdered head from her hand. Then, as though compelled, he
faced his mama again.

“I had not remembered—your green eyes,” he murmured.

“You got yours from my side of the family,” his mother told him, but her smile was open.

It was a happy party that was driven through the London streets to Carlton House in the Duke's
luxurious carriage.

Dani wore a single dark red rose at the corsage of her silver purple gown.

Disaster struck part way through the evening.

The first half of the concert was ended, to most of the guests’ undisguised relief, and servants in ornate
costumes were circulating among the groups with laden trays of wine, when the Prince of Wales
approached the small group that consisted of the Duke and Duchess, Dani and Tiri. He was beaming
proudly and was flanked on either side by a modishly dressed gentleman. At his loudly friendly greeting,
all of the Duke's party turned to make their bows to His Highness.

Dani's smile froze into a grimace of shock. One of the gentlemen at the Prince's side was Sir Hilary. The
other, darkly formal, with heavymaquillage and a small black patch beside his thin lips, was the Most
Noble, the Marquis de Bayard, Councillor to King Louis and close friend of the Queen! This nobleman
was regarding Dani with equal shock and revulsion; Sir Hilary was suddenly very tense and frowning; the
Lansdales were puzzled at the obvious contempt with which the narrow-eyed Marquis scrutinized Dani.
Only the Prince of Wales seemed quite unaffected by the unpleasant tension in the air. George, Prince of
Wales, not yet thirty and still a handsome man with a deep craving to be loved by everyone, beamed at
his guests, nodded benignly at the Duke and his mother, and said graciously to the latter, “You are in rare
bloom this evening, Lady Letitia! Handel's music is magnificent, is it not? I hope you are enjoying the
concert!"

Then he addressed himself to Dani, whom he had been eyeing covertly while addressing the others—a
rare ripe armful, he was thinking—"I have brought a countryman of yours to greet you, my dear
Countess! May I present the Marquis de Bayard?"

“I think not, Your Highness,” said de Bayard so clearly that everyone in the vicinity could hear him.
There had naturally been many eyes upon the Prince as he walked among his guests, and there had been
conjectures as to the identity of the two men who accompanied him. Now it was avidly noted that the
lavishly overdressed French nobleman had not, after that first damning glare, looked at Dani. He spoke
again.

“This—ladyis aware of my reluctance to be presented to her, and of my reasons for it. I beg Your
Highness will excuse me!"

There was a gasp as the haughty Frenchman, perhaps fatally ignorant of Prince George's painful
sensitivity to slights, walked away from the man from whose family he had come to seek help for the
King of France. The careless act of lese majesty startled even Sir Hilary, who knew more about what
was happening than did anyone else in the great salon.

The Marquis caught Sir Hilary's frown. “Shall we return to our places, McGregor? I would not wish to
miss the rest of this splendid concert.” This last comment was directed toward the Prince, with a finicking
bow and the flourish of a scented lace kerchief.

The musicians were already tuning up on their platform. Sir Hilary looked at the Prince, who nodded
slightly. Then Sir Hilary's eyes went to Dani; he gave her one intent, unsmiling look, then he turned his
gaze toward the Prince. George was glancing after the retreating back of the Marquis. Now he focused
his slightly protruberant eyes upon the set face and the gallantly concealed discomfiture of the lovely little
French Countess.

George's brain was buzzing with conjecture. The cut was direct, by gad! Could the woman be an
impostor? No, Sir Hilary had investigated her thoroughly at Pitt's request. She had been Louis's mistress.
That thought had amused the Prince as he watched his straitlaced parents welcome her and her pretty
daughter. But she had also undoubtedly been married to the ‘Sieur de Granville, and no breath of scandal
had touched her until some time after his death. Why, then, the Prince asked himself, did the Marquis,
forgetting his duty to his royal host, refuse even to acknowledge the introduction? In an instant George
had his answer.

The Marquis de Bayard was one of the French Queen's most devoted adherents! Therefore he would
be sufficiently contemptuous of one of King Louis's discarded mistresses to refuse, with the rigid
arrogance of his caste, even to accept an introduction to the woman. The Marquis's disgust at the
confrontation had overcome even his necessity to show respect for a member of the Royal Family from
whom he had come to seek help. He sees us asFarmer George and his brood, thought the Prince with
a throb of anger.The crude German upstarts! It gave the Prince some satisfaction to know that the
haughty Gallic nobleman was more than likely to be forced to return to his rebellion-torn country
empty-handed.Let him try to convince the Old Man of anything! the Prince thought.I have never
managed it, and I am his son and heir!

George, who was bright enough about some things, foresaw both an advantage and a way out of a
difficulty for himself, in the situation. If de Bayard were to spread scandalous rumors about the Countess,
the King and Queen would at once terminate the friendship between the Princess Mary and Therese de
Granville. When this news got about, the Countess would be given the cold shoulder everywhere in Polite
Society. She would probably be sent packing by the old Lansdale female. The better chance then that the
Countess would look with favor upon a flattering offer from the heir to the throne! An advantage, surely!

The way out of his present difficulty had been handed to him on a platter, Prinny thought gleefully. He
was jealous of his own consequence, having been schooled and put down and galled beyond bearing by

his father's fussy and unrealistic ideas on the proper rearing of a Royal Prince. The sneering discourtesy
of the Marquis toward one who was his host as well as a Prince royal had been an affront to the very
person from whom the Marquis sought help for his own wretched monarch. The Prince of Wales smiled
widely. The fellow had given him a perfect excuse to refuse! Anyone who had heard the Marquis's
scathing comment, and seen him deliberately walk away from the Prince of Wales, would know he had
forfeited any chance of assistance from his host.

Of course King George would never agree to help this French nobleman, even in the unlikely
contingency that the Old Man would agree to see him. The King was suffering another of his “nervous
attacks” and his physicians would protect him, even if he didn't protect himself. Sir Hilary had been right,
the Prince decided. He'd told Pitt that the Bourbons were a lost cause and a very dangerous one for the
House of Hanover to espouse at this time. Good man, Sir Hilary! thought the Prince. I am sorry we shall
be losing his clever brain and high courage and sharp wits as an intelligence for our government. It was a
good thing Pitt had a stable of spirited young stallions willing to take on these clandestine adventures for
love of their country!

Having arranged matters thus neatly in his mind, Prinny roused himself to attend to the Countess and her
London hosts. Luckily, Lady Letitia had been prosing on while these important plans had been racing
through his head. Most fortunately, the Prince heard her ask, just at the moment when his attention had
returned to her, “I do hope Your Highness agrees with me?"

“But of course, my dear lady!” Prinny gave his graceful bow. “Shall we return to our seats now? The
musicians are waiting for our arrival to begin the second half of the concert.” He offered one arm to Dani
and the other to the immensely flattered Duchess, and they strolled back into the elaborately decorated
salon. The Duke followed with Tiri on his arm.

If Dani seemed subdued, thought the Prince, it was surely quite natural after the vicious snub she had
received. Since he really loved music and did not wish to talk during a performance, the Prince limited his
campaign to holding Dani's hand, and when the music became particularly moving, he would place her
hand upon his thigh and press it there.

Dani, who was still recovering from her shock at encountering Sir Hilary in such exalted company, and
moreover, at hearing him addressed as McGregor, had had very little thought to spare for either the
chilling rudeness of the Marquis or the too-urgent attentions of the heir to the throne. What was Sir Hilary
doing, accompanying de Bayard to Carlton House? A Sir Hilary obviouslypersona grata with the Prince
of Wales? Her brain was in such a whirl that when Prinny pressed her hand quite hard against his leg, she
glanced up at him through dazed blue eyes and smiled sweetly.

Thus encouraged, the Prince began to consider ways and means. Having, as he imagined, achieved his
first objective, he released the lady's hand—to her relief—and presented his most decorous front to the
prying eyes of his subjects.

Seated at a little distance from the Prince, Sir Hilary wracked his brains for a way to escape the
highnosed Frenchman and get to Dani before Prinny had managed to compromise her utterly. The little
idiot! Why was she favoring the royal oaf with her sweet smiles? Did she not know how dangerous are
the favors of Princes? He had to get her away before she did something that would wreck everyone's
chances. Conveniently forgetting—or disregarding for the moment—his own culpability in intention and
action toward her, he permitted himself to fantasize their next private encounter.

For Tiri, the world could hold no greater joy than she felt at this moment, seated so close to her beloved.
The room contained at least twice as many guests as it could comfortably hold, which had necessitated

jamming in as many small chairs as possible, with the result that men and women felt themselves almost
thrust into one another's laps. Tiri loved it, when the lap was Daral's. She raised wide, worshipful eyes to
his. The young Duke caught his breath.

“Don't, Tiri,” he muttered anxiously, for he could see, if the girl could not, the prying, avid, or jealous
glances being cast their way.

“Don't?” she asked, feeling her emotion rejected.

“Don't look at me like that,” Daral explained in a low voice. “People will think—” He broke off; he was
unwilling to be the cause of the unhappiness so clearly revealed on the small, lovely countenance. “Wait
until later,” he promised recklessly. “When we areprivate."

“Oh!” Tiri cast an apologetic glance around her. “I see!” The joy flooded back into her face so visibly
that the Duke was forced to stifle the urge to sweep her up and out of this hothouse this very instant.
Instead, he pressed her hand significantly. Tiri pressed back.

CHAPTER 14

“I thought the damn concert would never end!” said the Duke, as his party bowled away from Carlton
House an eon later.

His mother peered at him through the gloom of the coach. “I thought it was a splendid evening,” she
said; she was still glowing from the courtesy the Prince had shown her and the distinguishing notice he
gave their whole party. “Splendid!” she said again, firmly, as though to convince a child.

Tiri giggled. “He is really an overwhelming figure, is he not, your Prince? Handsome and charming! But
someday soon he will be grossly fat if he continues to eat and drink as he did tonight!"

“That was nothing,” said the Duke grimly. “A mere series of tidbits! You should see him at a banquet!
One cannot believe that one stomach can hold all he stuffs into his!"

“Daral!” rebuked his mama, in repressive accents. “He is your Prince!"

“Well, I don't have to be loyal to his stomach, thank God!” intoned the Duke piously, elated to observe
that Tiri was shaking with laughter.

The only member of the party who had nothing to say about their evening was Dani. She did not appear
unhappy. Her lovely face was set in an expression of meditation—as though she were recalling the events
of the evening without particular emotion. Tiri, finally glancing away from Daral long enough to share her
mother's pleasure in her obvious triumph—for had not the Prince taken her in to the concert, and then
later fetched her a glass of liqueur with his own hands?—was first surprised and then worried by the look
of calm contemplation upon Dani's face.

WhenMaman put on that look, she was considering serious matters. It was the very expression she had
worn before she announced that they were to leave Paris. Tiri knew better than to question her mother in
front of other people. She reluctantly abandoned her tentative scheme to try for a few moments alone
with the Duke before he left them and determined to discover hermaman's trouble as soon as they were
alone.

Then it hit Tiri. Of course! It was Sir Hilary's unexpected appearance at thesoirée, and in such exalted
company, which had brought that look to her mother's face! How could she have been so selfish, so
blind, as to overlook the effect Sir Hilary's sudden return into their lives would have upon Dani, who
loved him? Tiri shook her head and chastised her own obtuseness. Here she was daring to hope for
happiness with the Duke, while poor littleMaman must be racked with anxiety and fear at the odd
actions of her chosen love! The girl resolved to attend upon her poor mother with all the love and
tenderness possible, and to help her in this difficult hour.

The Duke was surprised and puzzled by the ease with which he was shuffled off when he deposited the
ladies at his mother's door. Of course their thanks were fulsome, their smiles affectionate—even
Mama's—and their invitation for him to call upon them early the following morning flatteringly urgent. But
Tiri, that little devil, had somehow become remote and cool toward him.Women! he thought grimly.
Although his experience was fairly limited for a man of his class and day, he knew enough about women
to think that he recognized dismissal when he found it. Where was the laughing little charmer who had
been staring up at him so adoringly at the concert that her open admiration had attracted attention? Had
his quiet and temperate warning offended her? He did not think so of his Tiri. Then was this some
feminine game to entice him? That idea was easier to bear. Setting his jaw rather grimly, he dismissed his
worried coachman, grooms and outriders in front of his mother's house and told them he would walk
home.

“I need the exercise, damn it!” he said, cutting off Tom Coachman's dire warnings of footpads and other
ugly customers. “I'll walk!"

It did not sweeten his temper one iota to perceive, after the first few angry moments, that his coach was
following him at a discreet distance.

CHAPTER 15

Unfortunately for her loving plans, Tiri was quite unable to penetrate hermaman's reserve when finally,
having seen the exhilarated and grateful Lady Letitia into her dresser's hands, they attained the privacy of
their suite.

In fact, hermaman's first words were in the nature of a warning to Tiri. “I know your open nature, my
little one, but you must begin to learn to dissemble—to hide your feelings while you are under public
scrutiny,” she began before Tiri could get her own campaign going. Dani went on gently, “I noticed
the—the admiration that your countenance was expressing for the Duke during the concert,chérie. It is to
be hoped that others who noticed will attribute your enthusiasm to the music, rather than His Grace."

“He told me I was not enough restrained,” the girl admitted, unable to meet hermaman's eyes. “He said
we would be private later."

Dani's eyebrows lifted. “Indeed? Yet, after de Bayard's exhibition tonight, he must know that you are
not a suitableparti." She studied the girl's stricken expression, her own face full of regret. “I have made a
greatbouleversement of our lives, my poor baby! I hope you may someday be able to forgive me!” She
exhaled. “I saw tonight, when Sir Hilary turned up under the Prince's auspices, why he had broken off so
sharply with me. I am not enough respectable."

“I still believe he loves you!” cried Tiri, unable to bear the look of quiet grief in her mother's eyes.

Dani gave a Gallic shrug. “Perhaps he does, poor man! It cannot be easy to find oneself in love with

such as I! But you see he can do nothing about it. Nor may I, if I care for him. He is probably one of the
Prince's equerries, on private service, or perhaps one of Mr. Pitt's daring spies...” She tried to smile.
“Who knows?"

“But in such case,” objected Tiri, “if he were a spy, I mean, why could you not marry?"

“What would become of you, my pet, and of your dreams for a respectable marriage, if your notorious
Maman ran off with a spy?"

Tiri considered the situation with a sinking heart. It was clear to her that she must abandon all foolish
dreams concerning the Duke. Whatever an alliance with Dani might do to denigrate Sir Hilary's
reputation, it would be less than nothing compared to the brouhaha that must eventuate if a Duke were to
marry the daughter of one of King Louis's discarded mistresses.

Mother and daughter stared into each other's face.

What they saw there gave them courage: love, and respect, compassion and caring. Dani was the first to
smile.

“So! We are agreed we have a problem, are we not? Then next must come the effort to find a solution!"

“Yes,” said Tiri earnestly. “That is what you have been doing for these last hours, is it not? I recognized
the—the planning expression."

Dani was surprised into a chuckle. “You read me well, my little one! Yes, I have thought of several
plans. I will tell you about them, and then we shall decide, no?"

“Tell,” said Tiri crisply.

Dani took a deep breath. “First, I had thought we might just pack up very quietly tonight and slip away
in the morning without warning anyone.” She caught the shocked look upon Tiri's face and smiled
ruefully. “Cowardly, is it not? Yet it is one possible course of action."

“I—I would not like it,” said Tiri honestly.

“Nor would I,” agreed Dani, “but I think our hostess might understand and approve, after she had
thought about it."

“She is beginning to like you!” protested Tiri. “Yes,” said her mother. “That is why she might
understand—and forgive."

“But you do not intend to pursue that course?” prodded Tiri.

Dani laughed. “Of course not, my poppet! It is too—tame!"

Tiri was forced to chuckle. This last sounded more likeMaman.

“My second plan,” continued Dani, “was to pack, as before, but to go to the Duchess's room after she
had had her sustaining coffee, and explain that we were leaving—"

“Having urgent business in Paris, Brittany, or the New World?” teased Tiri, her heart becoming lighter

under the spell of her mother's badinage.

“The New World!” mused Dani. “Now that is one possibility I had not considered! No, Plan Two
merely involved offering sincere thanks and saying good-bye."

“And the third plan?” asked Tiri, not at all enamored of Plan Two.

“Plan Three was that we take a chance upon remaining here—and hoping that the situation will not
become too unpleasant. It is a rather forlorn hope, my doll."

“Plan Four?” persisted Tiri. “Oh, I know there must be at least one more, since none of them so far has
your—authentic touch!"

Dani's smile this time was her old gamine grin."Eh, bien! You know I will not go down without a
struggle, do you not? Very well: Plan Four. That I send a note to Sir Hilary's lodging to ask if he can use
a female confederate in his work. There must be many occasions when a woman of some charm could
venture in and succeed where a male could not."

"Maman!"Tiri had stopped laughing."Quelle bêtise! Is it that you jest with me?"

“No,” Dani answered in a reasoning tone. “I was in fact quite pleased with the idea."

“Impossible! Even if Sir Hilary allowed it, I could not! It is too dangerous! What if you were exposed!"

“Exposed?” grinned Dani.

Tiri glared at her reprehensible littlemaman. “You comprehend! Revealed! Uncovered!” Hermaman
was shaking with laughter now, as Tiri fought with the English language to find her meaning."Betrayed!"

“It is very interesting,” mused the incorrigible creature, “how very often the English language has quite
naughtydouble entendres! I wonder what the so-moral members of Society do about it."

"Maman,"said Tiri firmly, “be sensible! You are the one who is supposed to keep us bothcome il
faut—in good form, correct!"

“I am?” asked Dani, the ghost of laugher still in her fine eyes.

“I think we may disregard Plan Four,” said her daughter briskly. “Is there another?"

“I had thought of a conference with the Duke and Lady Letitia. I am convinced that they both have good
will toward us, and they have enough nous to suggest suitable courses of action. No, my dear child, I
know you do not wish to spoil the dream you are in by discussing mundane matters with Daral—but that
dream, dear child, was a futile one from the start, I am afraid.” She sighed. “I thought I was so clever to
persuade Louis to send us off to England! It begins to appear that I merely found a way to break your
heart—and my own!"

There was little more that either could say, except good-night, rest well! Then both went to bed. Both of
them remained awake for hours and went ceaselessly over the details of their situation and sought to find
a solution.

When Sir Hilary deposited the Marquis de Bayard at the comfortable hotel in which Mr. Pitt had

secured him accommodation, he told the arrogant nobleman, for what it was worth, that he had blotted
his copybook badly in behaving with insolence to the Prince of Wales.

De Bayard raised incredulous eyebrows. “Insolence?” he began with chilling hauteur.

“Save it,” advised Sir Hilary shortly. “That sort of behavior may be permissible toward one's inferiors,
but in this country we do not dismiss a Prince of the Blood, in fact, the Heir to the Throne, as casually as
you did tonight. Whatever you had hoped to gain from your meeting with the Prince of Wales, you may
forget about. He was deeply offended."

“That loud-voiced, insensitive glutton!—” protested the Marquis. “He is too stupid and self-esteeming to
notice what anyone says of him!"

“The Prince is highly sensitive,” Sir Hilary corrected him. “You have been poorly briefed, sir! If indeed
any of your political party bothered to think about the nature of this mission or the persons you would be
appealing to for aid.” He observed the dull red of anger rising under the painted cheeks, the thin, cruel
mouth hardening to chastise this commoner. “Spare me your tirades, Marquis de Bayard! I do not heed
them, nor will it do you any service to spew your venom upon me! You lost your chance to get help for
your King when you insulted the one man who might have started a popular movement in your favor!
Since my usefulness to you is over, may I bid you good-night—and good-bye."

Sir Hilary went out, closing the door after him quietly. He did not bother to think what his erstwhile
charge would do now. At Mr. Pitt's request urged on by letters from King Louis—Sir Hilary had gone to
Paris, brought the Marquis unobtrusively out of France, and delivered him safely in London, but his duty
ended tonight. In fact, he was so angry at the affront this fatuous, painted nobleman had put upon dear,
merry, beautiful little Dani de Granville that he felt his teeth grinding together with fury. He had not minded
a whit the Marquis's condescension to himself; after all, he had been introduced to the fellow as Mr.
McGregor, although he was in fact heir to a Scottish Viscount. No, it was de Bayard's behavior to Dani
which rankled. Instead of the unforgivable tongue-lashing he had just administered to a guest of the
English Government, Sir Hilary wished he could have made it an unforgettable knock-down! He was
thankful he had given Mr. Pitt notice of his intention to resign from his secret work for the Government
and return to his own life and newly urgent responsibilities as heir of an aging Viscount who complained
bitterly of his son's continued absence.

Sir Hilary resolved to call upon his lady—for so he had unconsciously come to regard her—at the
earliest possible moment the following day. If his father did not approve of a beautiful French widow as
daughter-in-law, then he must be content to permit them to live in England. Sir Hilary grinned. There was
little chance of that, when his father had once met the charming Danielle de Granville! After the first son
was born—ah! then the welcome would make the hills ring! Much refreshed at the thought of that
delightful prospect, Sir Hilary went to bed.

In fact, the only member of the group who went to bed in black despair was the Duke of Lansdale. He
knew, better than Dani, his duty and deep obligation to his name: to protect and defend it against slur or
slander. It was expected of him, and he had expected it of himself, that he would one day marry a
suitable young woman of unexceptionable lineage and produce healthy heirs to carry on the name.Tiri
has a faultless lineage! his heart cried out.

But she also has a mother who was a King's mistress—and, worse, is likely to become notorious in
the same role with the Prince of Wales!his reason informed him doggedly. He had seen the lecherous
intent in Prinny's pursuit of the charming French widow, and the wide, sweet smile with which Dani
received it. The Duke knew that many peers were unfaithful to their wives, and even more peeresses

deceived their husbands. But they were part of the established system, not foreign newcomers to it,
whose every action would be watched, challenged, and damned.

As dawn was breaking over London, the Duke came to his decision. He would ask the girl to marry him
and then retire with her and her mother to the safe obscurity of his gracious estate at Lansdale.

CHAPTER 16

Alas for all the optimistic schemes constructed during that troubled night! The first thing that occurred
the next morning threatened to destroy every hope.

None of the ladies at Mall House had officially risen when Fallow sent a maid up to inform his mistress
that she had visitors with an urgent need to speak to her.

“Two ladies was all Mr. Fallow tol’ me,” confessed the maid. “I was helping’ to fix brekfus’ trays when
he sent me up—milady."

Filled with a strong sense of alarm, the Duchess allowed herself to be dressed hastily and went
downstairs. Amelia and Bridget Mall were waiting for her in the drawing room. Letitia knew as soon as
she saw their faces that she was not going to like their news. Bridget could not wait even for the
customary civilities before opening the budget.

“Your house guest, whom you have thrust upon Their Majesties, is a whore!"

Her mother winced at the crudity. “Mistress!” she substituted.

“That doesn't make it any better!” snapped Bridget. “Will you have to apologize, Cousin Letitia? To the
Queen, I mean. Of course they won't let Princess Mary drive out with that daughter of hers any longer!”
She was radiating satisfaction at the situation.

How much she dislikes me,thought Letitia sadly. Daral was right.

“We shall still receive you, Letitia,” promised her cousin Amelia, “and Daral. After you've gotten rid of
those—women, of course."

Letitia sat down slowly. “Perhaps you'd better leave now,” she said. “Since Dani and Tiri are still here in
my house and will remain here as long as they wish to do so."

Bridget glared at her. “You are a fool,” she cried harshly. “But then you always were! A cheeseparing,
ugly old woman, puffed up with your son's importance! If you keep those two creatures here, I shall not
want to know you, and neither will anyone else!"

She went out of the room with quite a vulgar flounce.

Her mother hesitated near the chair where Letitia sat staring blankly at nothing.

“She's right, you know,” Amelia said. “You'll be cold-shouldered by the Ton when this gets around—"

“—and Bridget can't wait to spread it,” Letitia completed for her. She looked at her former bosombow.
“I thought I knew you, Amelia. I believed we were friends as well as cousins, but you never really liked

me, did you? You have no thought of trying to protect me now."

Amelia gave her an assessing glance. “You got George and made his life a misery. I might have made
him happy.” She swept out of the room after her daughter.

Lady Letitia walked over to a small desk and sat down to write a note to Daral. When it was finished,
she rang for Fallow. “Have a groom take this to my son's house at once, if you please,” she instructed
and then added, “Send a maid up to request that the Countess join me in the morning room."

When Dani came into the room ten minutes later, Lady Letitia insisted upon pouring her a cup of coffee
before she disclosed the reason for the summons.

“It is early for all of us, I know,” she explained, “but there is an emergency ... a problem we must talk
about, after our coffee."

Dani was afraid she knew exactly what—or who-the problem was, but she was puzzled by Her Grace's
quietly friendly attitude. So she got down the bitter brew gratefully, and accepted some freshly toasted
bread with butter. The Duchess did not eat anything, Dani noticed, but she did drink two cups of the
coffee.

Finally, Dani could not bear the weighted silence any longer. “You looked verysoignée last night, Your
Grace,” she said in her soft, pretty voice. “I am going to teach your dresser, Perkin, how to apply the
maquillage for you. I shall leave you a supply of itbefore I go."

Lady Letitia's gaze came up and scanned the Frenchwoman's face. “Before you go?” she repeated
sharply.

Dani nodded. “I am sure this early summons means that the Marquis de Bayard has told his tale, and I
would not embarrass a lady who has been as kind a sponsor as you have been. Tiri and I shall leave
today"—she gave a little laugh—"and you can tell them all how King Louis forced us upon you! It is,
after all, a distinction none of your friends can boast—that a reigning monarch begged them to shelter his
belle amie!"

“I am not going to let you leave,” said Lady Letitia firmly. “You are staying here until we can decide
where you would be the happiest, and doing what.” Dani stared into the woman's face. Themaquillage
had been washed off last night, and the Duchess presented her usual rather grim countenance, undeniably
plain, yet there was a new light in the pale green eyes that regarded Dani so steadily.

Dani began to weep.

The Duchess got up rather stiffly and marched around the table to her guest's side. Bending, she gave
Dani an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Do not cry,” she ordered. “You will make runnels in your
maquillage."

“R-runnels?” choked Dani, between laughter and tears.

“Rivulets, channels, ravines—” suggested the Duchess in an attempt to find an appropriate word. Dani
began to laugh."Des canals, course d'eau, cascades? Mais non! I must use my new language, the
so-amusing English! It is that I make troughs, ditches in my cosmetique lotions, is it not?"

“All that, on one small face?” protested the Duchess.

Suddenly they were both laughing unreservedly. The Duke, entering upon this scene of levity when he
had expected tears, recriminations, Heaven-knew-what-other-female-hysteria, was dumbfounded.

The sight of his stunned expression sent the two ladies off into fresh gales of laughter. Gradually the
Duke's tense countenance relaxed into a grin.

“If I did not know better, I should think you both jug-bitten,” he said.

“We have only been drinking coffee,” gasped his mother. “Have some!"

“Thank you, no!” her son said hastily. “Not your cook's version of that fascinating drink! But if Fallow
will bring me some tea, I shall be delighted to break my fast with you. I did not stop to eat when I
received your message this morning.” He found the butler at his elbow, who ushered him into a seat and
then waved forward a hovering footman with a tray. “Ah, good man, Fallow! You have anticipated my
needs!” He permitted himself to be served with not only tea, but fresh-baked bread, sliced ham, and eggs
coddled to his taste. His eyebrows rose. “It must indeed be an emergency, when I am so adroitly
cosseted!"

This reminder of their difficulty sobered the ladies, but His Grace was pleased to see that they did not go
immediately into the dismal. When the servants retired, the Duke said quietly, “I suppose this has
something to do with the French Marquis?” His glance at Dani was wary but commiserating.

“Amelia and Bridget were here,” the Duchess informed him baldly. “They told me the story was
circulating throughout the Ton—"

“Helped along, I have no doubt, by them,” added the Duke with fierce disgust. “I had hoped our own
relatives would close ranks to protect us!"

“We are ready to leave at once, Your Grace,” said Dani. “With hearts full of gratitude for all the
kindness you both have showered upon us!"

“Where will you go?” asked the Duke.

“Tiri suggested North America,” said Dani with an irrepressible twinkle.

“You might find difficulty gettingmaquillage there,” warned His Grace with a grin. “It is rather a long
way for your friends to go to call upon you!"

“Enough of this raillery!” commanded the Duchess. “Where can we find them a refuge, Daral? Or shall
webrave it out?"

The Duke's startled glance at his mother was so admiring that she became quite red with pleasure.

“I had an idea as we drove home last night,” said His Grace, remembering Tiri's slender body shaking
with laughter at his joke, and the sparkle in her lovely eyes. Bedamned to the Conventions of Polite
Society! It was his life to live, and he knew, at this moment, exactly how he wanted to live it. He faced
the expectant but not too hopeful ladies with a smile suddenly vibrant and carefree.

“Why do I not take your often-repeated advice, Mama, and marry Mam'selle de Granville? Her lineage
is equal to my own, and you must admit she is much prettier than I am!"

Dani's jaw dropped.

The Duchess's firm mouth quirked with a smile of satisfaction at this example of manly decisiveness.

Then Dani, gathering her scattered wits, cried out, “You cannot do this, Your Grace! It would mean
social disaster for you and your mother!"

“I have never gotten much joy out of my social acceptance,” said the Duchess dryly. “My only visit to
Carlton House, moreover, was your doing, Dani. My invitation to the palace came through my
sponsorship of your daughter. You can see that were it not for your presence, I should never have
reached those dazzling heights! In general, my dear Dani, my social experience is limited to gossiping with
a few old cronies and attending dull dinners. Not a great loss, you will agree."

The Duke was not paying much attention to female ditherings. “We are here to decide our course of
action,” he reminded them, and got down to the nub of the matter without further ado. “Where is Tiri?"

“She is still in her room,” said the Duchess. “I thought she should not be present at this particular
discussion."

“Perhaps you are right,” admitted the Duke, “especially in view of our present subject. Still, I would like
to have seen her."

“Quite ineligible, until the matter is settled,” said his mama crisply.

“Just long enough to make sure she is well after last night's excitements?” coaxed His Grace boyishly.

Dani's wondering stare had been moving between mother and son. She had never seen them so in
charity with one another. The Duke, in this wheedling mood, looked to be scarcely out of his teens, a fit
match for the young Tiri, thought Dani lovingly, in every way that counted, except one.

“She is well enough, Your Grace,” Dani told the Duke, “but greatly concerned about the effect upon
your good name of the Marquis's revelations."

“What enrages me,” said the Duke with a touch of his former hauteur, “is the fact that half the noble
names in the Ton are smirched with rumors of scandalous practices, yet no one seems to hold it against
them. Why, then, should we be harassed because our charming and beautiful guest attracted the devotion
of a reigning monarch? It hardly seems fair."

“Do you tell me you expect the Haut Ton to befair?" asked the Duchess tartly. “If you do so, you have
not yet had your eyes opened."

“This is getting nowhere.” The Duke took charge once again. “Our decision is made! Tiri is to marry me
with all the pomp and ceremony we can arrange. Can we hope that a member of the de Granville family
can be persuaded to come to London to give her to me in the Cathedral?"

Dani smiled without rancor. “It might take some time. They are a crabbed, suspicious family, as I
remember, but, ifI am not present in the Cathedral, then assuredly one will come."

“In which case, I shall not ask,” said the Duke crisply. “It is part of my strategy to ignore completely the
false and maliciouscanards about your position in French Society. You had your own residence in Paris?

You did not live at Versailles or the Tuileries Palace?"

“I had a very discreet and elegant small house on the Rue du Rhône,” Dani replied primly. Her lovely
eyes sparkled with mischief. “None of my elderly, very respectable neighbors guessed that the poor
young widow with the adorable daughter was, upon occasion, visited by a certain Very Important
Personage."

“Then we may take it that investigations into your home would reveal nothing we wish to conceal?”
teased the Duke.

They laughed together.

She was a volatile little creature, the Duchess thought fondly. Her very real concern for her sponsors’
welfare was easily assuaged by a humorous exchange. Still, what fun she was! Her Grace happily
envisioned many enjoyable sessions in the spacious luxury of Lansdale Hall. If only they were past the
next few weeks, with all the hazards and humiliations that might be waiting for them! She urged everyone
to have another cup of coffee.

Alone in her room, Tiri dressed carefully, apprehensive about the urgent summons to hermaman. Of
course it had something to do with Dani's relationship to King Louis! Theymust get away before his
association with them hurt the Duke! Tiri sighed despondently. He was such a darling, dear Daral! If only
she had some gift she could give him, worthy of the kindness he had shown her and Dani! But there was
nothing! She went ahead with the packing of her garments into her trunk; she wanted to be ready for any
eventuality when her mother brought her news.

She was nearly finished when a maid tapped on the door and brought in a folded and sealed note. Tiri
took it and waited until the maid had left before scanning it carefully. She did not recognize the hand. It
was inscribed to Miss Granville. Tiri opened it and hastily read the lines.

Then a sickness curled in her stomach, and her throat tightened. The message was
scurrilous—ugly—detestable. Even the brief warning at the end: “Get out of London, you slut! unless you
wish to be stoned and your wanton mother with you! Your presence is an affront to decency. The Duke
will suffer for your sins!"

Of course it was not signed. It did not really matter who had penned the words—the scorn and disgust
would be present, no doubt, in the minds of most of the Duke's friends.It was too much! Tiri let the note
fall from her fingers. She stared blindly around, seeing nothing but her own tears. Then, with an agonized
breath, she slipped into Dani's room. Her mother's trunk was already packed and locked. Tiri hastily
collected Dani's jewel case,cosmetiques, and personal belongings, and put them in a small handcase. A
nightgown, a warm shawl, and finally the reticule that held their pitiful funds followed. As she was
completing the task, she paused.

I have been in a panic! she thought. There isone who would help us, I am sure. Sir Hilary will stand
Maman's friend, even though Dani now believes there was nothingimportant between them. Even if his
ardor has cooled, reasoned Tiri (who did not know much about it), still he will not want us to go
completely under!

She nodded. She would ask him to give them shelter just for the night. Perhaps even help them find
honest work in some provincial shop or small town boutique, far from London! Dani's skill at
dressmaking should make her a useful addition to any modiste's staff. As for herself, Tiri was willing to do
any menial work, however difficult.

Fired with this resolve, Tiri took a few pence from the reticule for hackney fare and slipped quietly down
the stairs and out the door. Fallow did not see her leave, for he was busy overseeing the salvers of food
being taken into the morning room. A page, on temporary duty, saw her, but she smiled and pledged him
to secrecy. It was half an hour later before Dani, returning with triumphant news to their suite, discovered
that Tiri was missing.

At once the darkest fears of kidnapping or even worse horrors surfaced in the Duke's mind. The
discovery of the note on the floor in Tiri's bedroom assuaged the worst of these, but presented him with
an unsavory picture of the kind of slights and insults his darling girl might be subject to, if she took her
place in Polite Society.

“We'll go down to Lansdale, and be married there!” he raged. “We need never show our faces in this
filthy city again!"

Dani was, meanwhile, trying to think where Tiri might have gone. The Duchess sat with her, ready to
hold her hand or offer a handkerchief if her motherly feelings overcame her. Instead, she and the Duke
were treated to the sight of Dani-in-action: a very different female from the aspects of her character they
had previously seen.

“She has obviously gone somewhere to find help,” began Dani in a businesslike tone. “Oh, not because
she mistrusted you, Your Grace.” She had caught the look of hurt on the Duke's face. “She is trying to
save your honor and defend your consequence without dragging you into the mire. She loves you, you
see,” she added softly. Then, resuming her cogitations, she said, “Would she have gone to seek help from
the Prince? No, for shedoes mistrust him. She is afraid I may accept his lures.” She smiled, but there was
little mirth in it now. “But we know no one in London—Ah!” Her eyes widened.

“You have thought of someone?” asked the Duchess eagerly.

“Sir Hilary,” announced Dani.

The Duke turned to the door. Then he turned back. “I can get his address from Pitt's secretary,” he said
slowly, “but something tells me you might know it, Dani. Am I right?"

Unsmiling, Dani gave him the street and number.

The Duke smiled reassuringly at Dani and his mother. “I'll bring her back safely, the little idiot,” he said
lovingly. “I'm sure Conray will treat her like his own daughter."

“If she is not there—” began his mother. “Then I will return here to see if you have news, and we will
begin our search."

The Duke was racing down the stairs two at a time and was feeling extraordinarily alert and alive and
determined, when Fallow opened the front door to a guest. The Duke halted, staring. It was Sir Hilary
Conray.

He was alone.

A few minutes later they were all gathered in the drawing room for a council of war.

“If she has gone to seek my help, I probably just missed her,” said Sir Hilary, when he had been

apprised of the morning's alarums and excursions. He seemed to find it difficult to keep his eyes off Dani,
who was, although worried, looking little older than her daughter in a pale yellow bergère.

“Then let us get back there at once, before the little wretch gets some other harebrained notion into her
head and is off out of sight!” urged the Duke.

“I think Tiri's mama should come with me,” said Sir Hilary firmly. “I may need her to persuade Tiri to a
sensible course of action. I may also need to chaperone her."

“I shall come also,” insisted the Duke. “She is my fiancée"

“Indeed?” said Sir Hilary pleasantly. “That is good news! My congratulations to you, milord!” He
regarded the Duke with a much kindlier eye.

Lady Letitia felt the oddest desire to laugh. It was a feeling that she was experiencing quite frequently of
late, and she rightly attributed it to the presence of her guests.We shall never have a dull minute from
now on! she thought and resolved to be as much a part of the ducal menage as she could.

“Perhaps I should come also?” she suggested, with a straight face. The discomfort on the faces of both
men almost sent her into peals of laughter, but she restrained herself, and waited for their excuses.

“We should have someone here to welcome the little—to welcome Tiri if she comes back and we miss
her again,” the Duke pointed out.

“Perhapsyou should stay here in case of that contingency,” suggested Sir Hilary. His dogged expression
announced clearly that he intended getting Dani alone as soon as humanly possible.

In the event, however, both men went off together, it appearing that neither of them would forgo the
chance of being with their own beloved person for even a moment. When they had left, the Duchess
chuckled softly. They were like two gamecocks, or two stallions—or, she smiled, two young males! It
was a difficult time for them, for neither one had spoken the words that would make his chosen female
irrevocablyhis. How she would love to have accompanied them, to observe the courting ritual! Perhaps
Dani might have some details to confide later? She was a cheery soul. Conray was fortunate, in spite of
King Louis and the gabblemongers!

Rather impatiently she strolled up and down the drawing room and waited the return of the lost lamb. As
she did so she noticed its somber discomfort for the first time.

“I think I shall redecorate Mall House,” she announced."That will show Amelia!"

Fallow, waiting eagerly in the front hallway for the next development in this drama which had all the staff
agog, heard her voice with a flutter of alarm.

“Talking to herself now, is she?” he thought.

He was not left alone long enough to feel pity. The knocker beat, and he opened the door upon the
dejected little figure of Mademoiselle de Granville.

His joyous relief was enough to startle the returning prodigal. “His Grace was so worried!” Fallow so far
forgot decorum as to exclaim. “He and Sir Hilary are out with your mama, looking for you now,” he
advised her.

Her eyes were huge as they looked up into his face. “Oh, Fallow! Are they very angry with me?"

“More likely terrified lest you come to harm,” he told her. “Come in to Her Grace at once, Miss Tiri!
She has been worried too!"

It was an apprehensive little figure that presented itself to the Duchess's scrutiny a minute later. The
delighted welcome on the older woman's face quite restored Tiri's confidence. Her Grace opened her
arms to the girl. Tiri went to them quite simply.

“You have put my son into a rare passion, my dear,” the Duchess advised her.

Tiri's eyes grew even rounder at this intelligence.

Her Grace chuckled. “It will do him good! He is a little too confident of his own worth, my child. It will
be salutary for him to worry a little."

“Worry?” faltered Tiri.

She really must not steal Daral's thunder, the Duchess cautioned herself. He would never forgive her. So
she edited the morning's excitements carefully.

“My son came to talk to us,” she began. “When we had agreed upon a course of action, we came to
find you. You were gone, but we found the—note. Your mama deduced that you might have gone to
seek help from Sir Hilary, and then he arrived to confer with us!"

“Oh!” breathed Tiri. “Then I have caused trouble by my rash action! For you see he was not at home! I
had the journey for nothing!” She looked beyond the Duchess's shoulder. “Is he—are they here?"

“No,” said the Duchess, hardly able to keep her face straight as she visualized the comings and goings of
the distracted males. “They have gone back to Sir Hilary's lodgings to findyou!" It was too much. She
could not help the chuckle that escaped her lips. “I suppose,” she ventured, eyes alight with mirth, “you
would not care to go back there to try to meet them?"

Tiri frowned upon such unseemly levity. “I shall stay here, where I should have stayed in the first place,
and let the Duke deal with this problem. And mymaman," she added hastily.

The Duchess agreed it might be wiser.

The Duke was back within ten minutes. “She is not there!” he began, as he burst into the drawing room.
Then he saw Tiri sitting very primly on a small sofa near his mother.

"You!"he said, with every evidence of exasperation, annoyance, and disgust.

“Yes,” said Tiri meekly.

The Duke glanced sharply at his mother.

She rose at once. “If you will forgive me, my children, I must really leave you for half an hour. I am going
to make a call upon the Prince.” She waited to see how that outrageous lie would be received.

“Yes, of course, dear Mama! Do not hurry! We shall manage until you return!” said the Duke, his eyes
upon Tiri's small, apprehensive face.

The Duchess managed to get out of the room before her laughter began. To the startled Fallow, she said
simply, “Do not let anyone disturb them, even the Countess. My son is making Mademoiselle de
Granville a proposal of marriage!"

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Fallow complacently.

Within the gloomy room, the Duke stared down at the slender girl. He seemed dissatisfied. “How old
are you?” he asked finally.

“I shall be eighteen in a few weeks,” replied Tiri.

His frown lightened. “So old? Good! I was afraid, from the way you look this morning, that you were
about fifteen!"

This nasty observation put Tiri out of charity with the nobleman.

“And how old areyou?" she rapped back, testily.

His Grace grinned. “Old enough, Tiri,” he told her.

“For what?” the girl was ill-advised enough to ask.

“To make love to you—if that's what you want to know,” said the outrageous creature.

Tiri had her mouth open to put him in his place, and then she closed it slowly. Before the fascinated eyes
of the Duke, those rosy lips softened into a seductive pout. The big blue eyes sparkled most attractively,
and the husky little voice murmured, “Did you think you might wish to—make love to me, Daral?” she
asked.

“Oh, God!” said the beleaguered, attacked, and vanquished nobleman, giving up the unequal battle and
surrendering completely. “Will you marry me, you little witch?"

“But of course, Daral,” said Tiri. “If we can manage it without ruining your reputation. If we cannot, I
shall probably live with you veryprivately, if you know what I mean?” She gave him her sweetest smile.

“Never,” thundered the Duke awfully, “let me hear such words from your mouth"—momentarily
distracted, he looked hard at its soft contours—"your mouth again! How can I secure the succession if all
our children are born on the wrong side of the blanket?” Tiri frowned. This idiom was not familiar to her.

“What?” she demanded. “I do not know this wrong blanket."

“Don't bother,” advised His Grace. “It isn't going to happen. You are coming down to Lansdale, with
your mother, and my mother, and most probably Sir Hilary—and God knows how many more interfering
relatives! We are going to be married there as soon as I can arrange it. I do not wish to hear another
word from you—except Yes, Daral!"

“That's two words,” Tiri was going to say; but thought better of if after a covert glance at his
domineering expression. She compromised upon, “Yes, Daral!” in such a sweet, loving, joyous voice that

the Duke suddenly beamed and took her into his arms.

Fallow was waiting when an anxious Dani and her equally worried escort arrived back at Mall House
half an hour later.

“Has anything been learned?” Sir Hilary demanded.

Noting his determined and aggressive air, Fallow made quick work of it. “She is in the drawing room,
milord, being proposed to by His Grace."

A slow smile spread over Sir Hilary's face. “In that case, my good man—myvery good man!—you may
forbear to announce us.” Sir Hilary swung Dani around and led her back to his smart curricle. When he
had helped her in, he dismissed his groom.

As they were bowling rapidly down the street, Dani ventured a question. “Why?—” was all she was
able to say, before her companion, with a very predatory smile indeed, put his arm around her and drew
her close to him. “Because Lansdale isn't the only man who is going to have his chance to propose to one
of you maddening de Granville women!"

“Oh!” said Dani and relaxed just a little against his hard side.

Her escort noted the gesture with a small smile of satisfaction. He inhaled deeply, and the seductive
perfume that had haunted him since that first meeting in Calais drifted to his nostrils. “You are a lovely
woman,” he said, and his voice was harsh in Dani's ears. “If I ever see another Prince casting lecherous
eyes at you, I shall lead the Revolution myself.” He pulled her even closer, to the detriment of his driving.
“Do you understand me, Madame la Comtesse? You are to be my wife, and I am taking you to my
father's castle in Scotland, where you will live with me all our lives, and love me—"

The woman turned a little in his arm, until her lovely face was offered like a flower to his inspection.

“I will love you all my life,” she said softly, as though it were a prayer or a vow. “You are the only man I
have ever wished to marry."

“That is lucky for you!” said Sir Hilary firmly, but his heart was thundering in his breast. “My darling! My
dearest little love! We shall have such a—such ajolly time!"

If there was anything lacking in that statement, Dani did not see it. Her lean, dark adventurer had found
her, and he wanted her to be his wife.

There was no greater joy.

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