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  She gave a little skip of joy as she saw him and ran towards him.

  There were people around them so she was discreet enough not to say anything.

  Only as they stepped into the Vicomte’s carriage that was waiting for them outside did she slip her hand into his and say in a breathless little voice,

  “This is wonderful! More wonderful – than I ever thought Paris would be, because now I shall be seeing it with – you!”

  *

  When the Earl went to bed three hours later, he told himself that he had no excuse for his behaviour and it was certainly something that should not have happened.

  At the same time he had known the evening had been a delight that he would always remember, simply because Baptista had found it an enchantment that had given everything a fairy-like quality that was infectious.

  They had been to the most respectable Dancehall, which actually was in the Champs Élysées, and had danced the polka under the trees with the stars high above them in the sky and the gaslights illuminating the other guests.

  To Baptista the little millinais with their cheap but elegant gowns and their flower-trimmed bonnets were as entrancing as any bejewelled Socialite.

  The abandoned way they danced with their skirts swinging around them made the whole thing so gay and indeed so exciting that the Earl found himself not bored and blasé, as he might have expected, but seeing everything through the eyes of Baptista.

  She looked enchanting and he felt that was sufficient excuse for his bringing her to a place that was, if not conventional, certainly not wrong in the real sense of the word.

  There was something very youthful in the dancing of the people and the night itself.

  As they drove home in an open carriage, having sent the Vicomte’s back for him, Baptista moved close to the Earl and put her head on his shoulder.

  “It has been wonderful – quite – quite wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Only you could have understood how much I wanted to see the Paris that was like that and the people who are so – happy.” Because of the way she had moved close to him the Earl’s arm inevitably went round her, but he did not draw her nearer and he knew that she was not thinking of him as a man, but just as someone who had been kind and understanding.

  ‘She is very young,’ he told himself, ‘and it would be a pity if when she grows older she becomes self-conscious.’

  It was only a short drive to the Vicomte’s house and, when they went into the salon where the servants told them that there were sandwiches and drinks waiting for them, Baptista said,

  “I shall always remember this evening.”

  “Seeing the contrast between the party we went to first and the Dancehall afterwards, which did you prefer?” the Earl asked.

  “I can answer that question very easily, because at the Dancehall I was with you,” Baptista replied. “When we were at the ball, I kept looking to see what you were doing, who you were talking to and it was difficult to concentrate on what my partner said.”

  “You should have forgotten me,” the Earl said automatically. “You see, Baptista, I have been able to help you out of your difficulties, but, when I find your mother, she will look after you and you will not need me any longer.”

  Baptista did not answer. She only looked at him and he thought that her eyes had a strange expression in them that he had not seen before.

  Then she asked,

  “Suppose Mama does not – want me?”

  “That is a possibility which there is no point in discussing until I have found your mother. When I have, I am quite certain that once she knows what sort of life you have been living since she left your father, she will want to look after you and keep you with her.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Then Baptista said,

  “And because I am with Mama I will not be able to – see you again?”

  “I did not say that,” the Earl replied, “but, as you are well aware, Baptista, I have to return to England and that is one place you cannot go unless you are prepared to risk meeting your father.”

  Baptista drew in her breath.

  Then she said,

  “I suppose I want – more than anything else – to stay with you – to be happy as we were tonight. You were happy – too, I know you were not pretending!”

  The Earl looked at her in surprise.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because sometimes when you are talking to me you say the things you think will please me and, as they do not come from your – heart, I know that they are not entirely sincere. But tonight you were as happy as I was. It was fun – and now perhaps we shall – never feel like that again.”

  The Earl told himself that this conversation was dangerous and something that should not be taking place.

  “Go to bed, Baptista,” he said. “It will spoil the evening if instead of laughing as you were a little while ago, you became gloomy, anticipating events that may never happen. Go to bed and dream that you are dancing the polka.”

  “Dancing with you!” Baptista said beneath her breath.

  Then, because she wanted to obey him, she went up close to him and, as he put out his hand, she took it in both of hers.

  “Goodnight, my Lord,” she said, “and thank you – thank you with all my – heart!”

  As she curtseyed, she kissed his hand and he knew perceptively she was remembering that he had kissed hers when she had saved his life.

  Chapter Six

  The Earl was waiting to meet Lady Dunsford.

  He thought the room, into which he had been shown in an unpretentious house in a small square, was very English in its furnishing, its flowers and its simplicity.

  Being familiar with the magnificent mansion used by the Foreign Secretary, he had expected that the Duc, being a man who liked pomp and ceremony, would have provided his mistress with the same sort of surroundings that he enjoyed himself.

  He had felt unusually apprehensive as he drove here in the Vicomte’s comfortable carriage, thinking this was to be a very important meeting in that it would decide Baptista’s future.

  He kept telling himself that it was all going to be straightforward and plain sailing.

  He would hand Baptista over to her mother and then he would be free of any other obligations towards her.

  That was what his mind told him. At the same time something else, perhaps it was his conscience, told him that he could not shed his responsibilities so easily.

  ‘Why should I concern myself,’ he asked, ‘with a girl I have known for less than a week, who approached me uninvited and forced her troubles upon me?’

  No one could have done more than he had to help her, even to the extent of perjuring himself to his friends by telling them that she was his niece.

  ‘Once I am free I can get down to the task set me by the Prime Minister and then I can return home.’

  It struck him that there were also problems in London, the largest of them being Lady Marlene.

  ‘I will not become inveigled into a scene, but I am determined to have nothing more to do with her,’ he declared to himself, ‘and I shall certainly not believe any lies she tries to tell me.’

  He wondered how she could ever have attracted him when it was obvious that she was not straightforward in her dealings either with her husband or her lovers.

  She was very beautiful, but she had not the innocence and charm that showed in Baptista’s eyes and the Earl knew that it would be impossible for her to lie to him and he not to be aware of it.

  While he was thinking of Baptista in a manner that made him feel almost as if she was standing beside him, the door opened and her mother came into the room.

  At a glance the likeness between mother and daughter was obvious and then the Earl realised almost with surprise that Lady Dunsford looked older than he expected.

  From what Baptista had told him he knew she was not more than thirty-six or thirty-seven, but while she was very beautiful – there was no doub
t that that – she looked ill and he thought as she advanced towards him that she was undoubtedly too thin.

  Then she smiled and it was Baptista’s alluring smile but without her dimples.

  “The Vicomte de Dijon informed that you wished to see me, my Lord.”

  The Earl bowed over her hand.

  “That is true and on a very important matter.”

  Lady Dunsford looked at him questioningly. Then she moved towards the hearth rug and, indicating with her hand a chair on one side of it, she seated herself on the sofa.

  “Please sit down, my Lord. I have, of course, heard of your racing successes and that you are a frequent visitor to Paris.”

  “I asked to see you on a very different matter.”

  Lady Dunsford raised her eyebrows.

  Her eyes were the same blue as Baptista’s, but they had not the sparkle or indeed the innocent curiosity about life that was so characteristic of her daughter.

  “On my way to Paris,” the Earl began, “soon after I left Calais there was an accident on the road. I discovered that a post chaise, which contained your husband, Lord Dunsford, a Priest and your daughter Baptista had run into a diligence.”

  Lady Dunsford started and clasped her hands together.

  It was obvious that what the Earl had said was a shock, but she did not speak.

  “Your daughter came to my carriage and begged me to take her with me so that she could escape from her father.”

  “Why should she wish to do that?”

  “Because,” the Earl replied, “he was taking her to a House of Penitence where for the rest of her life she was to expiate not her own sins but yours!”

  He had meant to startle Lady Dunsford and he succeeded.

  She gave a cry that seemed to be stifled in her throat.

  Then she sprang to her feet saying,

  “This cannot be true! What are you saying to me?”

  “You left your husband three years ago,” the Earl replied, “because I understand, he treated you cruelly. But knowing what he was like, how could you have left your child with him?”

  Lady Dunsford sat down again as if her legs would not support her and put her hand up to her eyes.

  “Are you telling me,” she asked after a moment, “that Baptista has – suffered physically at her father’s – hands?”

  “He beat her because she looked like you,” the Earl answered, “and because he wished to save her from becoming a sinner.”

  Lady Dunsford gave a little groan before she said in a voice that trembled,

  “How could I have – guessed that he would transfer his – cruelty from me to – Baptista?”

  “You did not expect him to do so?” the Earl asked sharply.

  “No. He never touched her when I was – there and I thought that he was – fond of her.”

  “I think perhaps the fact that you left him made him madder than he was already,” the Earl conceded.

  “But – Baptista! Is she all – right?”

  “She is at the moment in my care,” the Earl said, “but as you are well aware, her father, if he can find her, has the right to make her return to him. That she must not do. Which is why she begged me to bring her to you.”

  “To me?”

  It was obvious that Lady Dunsford was astonished.

  “Who else?” the Earl asked. “She has had no contact with the members of her father’s family and is certainly not allowed to get in touch with any of yours. Three times she tried to escape, but was always taken back and beaten for making the attempt.”

  Lady Dunsford covered her face with both her hands.

  “Why did I not – expect this to – happen?” she whispered and her voice broke on the words.

  “It is not as bad as it could have been,” the Earl said, “If Baptista had once been admitted to the House of Penitence, it might have been impossible to rescue her. But she is here in Paris and at present staying, as I am, with the Vicomte de Dijon.”

  “Unchaperoned?” Lady Dunsford asked.

  “I have told everyone we have met that Baptista is my niece,” the Earl said coldly.

  He actually thought that it was an impertinence for Lady Dunsford in her present position to question the propriety of anything he had arranged.

  There was silence.

  Then the Earl went on,

  “As you can imagine, it was a considerable surprise to find you were not with the Comte de Saucorne as Baptista had expected.”

  Lady Dunsford made no answer and he continued,

  “I am sure that it would be possible now for you to look after your daughter which is what Baptista wants, but you will understand that she is terrified that her father may find her.”

  “I can – understand that,” Lady Dunsford agreed, “but I cannot have – Baptista with me.”

  The Earl stiffened.

  “Knowing the circumstances in which she has lived for the last three years, are you prepared to refuse to help your daughter now that she has escaped from the life that must have been a hell on earth for any girl so young and vulnerable?”

  Lady Dunsford twisted her fingers together.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I most certainly do not!” the Earl said positively. “Let me make it quite clear that if you will not have Baptista, there is nowhere else for her to go.”

  His tone was harsh and, as Lady Dunsford looked at the condemnation in his eyes, a flush rose in her pale cheeks.

  “May I – explain?” she asked.

  It was pathetic plea which somehow reminded him of the way Baptista had spoken when she pleaded with him to help her escape and his tone was more gentle as he answered,

  “I hope that you will do so, my Lady.”

  “I was very young when I married,” Lady Dunsford began, “and, although I was not in love with my husband, I admired him and I thought it a very great honour that he wished me to be his wife.”

  She paused before she continued,

  “I was happy at first and when Baptista was born I thought I had made him happy too. Then he became – more and more – religious.”

  “In what way?” the Earl enquired.

  “He was always praying and making all the household pray with him. He insisted on the servants having long and dreary religious instruction from his private Chaplain and listening to the sermons that he preached himself, not only on Sundays but on several evenings a week.”

  “Did you try to prevent him from becoming so obsessed?” the Earl enquired.

  “He would not listen to me. I was so much younger than he was. Then, after a little while, he began to think that all women were a snare and enticed men into wickedness.”

  “Did it not occur to you then that he was slightly insane?” the Earl asked.

  “Not at first,” Lady Dunsford replied, “but as time passed, he would punish himself and me every time we made love. Then he began to beat me if I looked pretty or in any way attracted his attention.”

  The way she spoke told the Earl how much she had suffered and how, being young, she had been bewildered by such treatment.

  “Did you ever suggest to your husband that he should see a physician?” he enquired.

  “He said I was a ‘symbol of sin’ and he refused to have any contact with me except at meal times or when we had visitors. I was so afraid of him by that time that I was content to spend my days in the nursery with Baptista or to ride alone around the estate. It was, in fact, the only way I could escape from the house.”

  The Earl waited, thinking he knew how the story would develop.

  “My husband’s cruelty went on,” Lady Dunsford continued in a very low voice, “and I was wondering how I could bear to live with him any longer when by chance out riding I met the Comte de Saucorne. He was staying with a neighbour for the hunting. His horse had lost a shoe, so he was riding very slowly home, having been obliged to leave the hunting field.”

  There was a smile on the Earl’s lips as he knew what must ha
ve happened. The impressionable young Frenchman had been overwhelmed by the beauty of the woman he met riding alone, without even a groom, and who had offered to show him the nearest route to where he was staying.

  “We fell in love,” Lady Dunsford said, “and we arranged to meet the following day, the day after that and the day after that again.”

  There was a softness in her voice now as if it had been a revelation to her to meet a man who was kind and sympathetic and told her she was beautiful without wanting to punish himself for doing so.

  “So you ran away?” the Earl said.

  “The Comte begged me to do so and I thought that if I stayed on I should become insane. There was seldom a day that my husband did not hit me and he had begun never to speak to me except in words of abuse that are too horrible to repeat.”

  “So you left him, but you did not take Baptista with you.”

  “I wanted to do so,” Lady Dunsford answered, “but I knew that I could not marry the Comte and in becoming his mistress I would ostracise myself from everyone in England who was respectable and I would never be accepted socially for the rest of my life.”

  She made a helpless little gesture with her hands before she said,

  “But I knew it was either that or to stay where I was, where if my husband did not kill me in one of his rages, I would die from sheer misery.”

  Her voice was very moving.

  Then, as she went on, she said,

  “I missed Baptista terribly, but I thought that my husband, crazy though he was, would be kind to her because she was his only child. Also I hoped that, as soon as she was old enough, she would find a man who would love her, who would take her away from the grim austerity of her home.”

  “Instead of which your husband treated her as he treated you.”

  Again Lady Dunsford gave a cry of horror before saying as if with an effort,

  “Jacques de Saucorne made me very happy, but his family wished him to marry and a year ago I realised that it was something he should and must do, but unless I left him he would continue to be loyal to me.”

  “I thought when I heard that he had married,” the Earl said, “you might have remained with him as his mistress.”