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  She looked at him from under her long eyelashes as she spoke and Amalita knew that she was trying to make him jealous.

  Then swiftly she turned to the Marquis.

  “How sweet of you,” she said in a cooing tone, “to ask me to dinner. It is such a long time since I have dined here and you know how much I adore your wonderful house.”

  It was charmingly put, but rather overdone.

  Amalita saw the Marquis’s eyes narrow as he replied,

  “I hear that your husband is not in very good health. You must be very worried about him.”

  “Of course I am,” Lady Hermione said, “but, as you can imagine, I am not good at nursing the sick or soothing the fevered brow and my husband is content to remain in the country without me.”

  As if she did not wish to discuss this subject further, she turned to greet gushingly the other guests of the party.

  It was obvious that the ladies were not very pleased at her arrival.

  There was, however, admiration in the men’s eyes, as if they found her not only amusing but irresistible.

  Dinner was then announced and the Marquis offered Amalita his arm.

  She was somewhat surprised.

  As Lady Hermione was the daughter of a Duke, he should have taken her in.

  As if he knew what she was thinking, the Marquis muttered as they walked towards the dining room,

  “This is David’s party tonight not mine and, following on from our conversation earlier, I should be interested to have your opinion.”

  Amalita gave him a little smile and there was no need to say anything more.

  When they walked into the dining room, she found that she was sitting on the Marquis’s right.

  The Earl was at the other end of the table with Lady Hermione on one side of him and Carolyn on the other.

  They made a very extraordinary contrast that Amalita almost laughed.

  She knew that it was the Marquis’s doing and he had a distinct twinkle in his eye as he contemplated them.

  Amalita had already seen Lady Hermione looking at her, she thought, as if she was something blown in by the wind.

  She ignored Carolyn completely.

  It was obvious that she had no use for women.

  It was only after dinner when she realised that Amalita was actually staying in the house that she paid her some attention.

  “Why have I not seen you before, Lady Maulpin?” she asked. “Have you been abroad or just been vegetating in the country?”

  “I have been in mourning,” Amalita replied.

  “But you know the Marquis. Yet I have never heard him speak of you.”

  “My late husband was a very great friend of our host,” Amalita replied, “which is why he has been kind enough to ask Carolyn and me to stay here with him.”

  “That is certainly unusual,” Lady Hermione remarked. “I have always understood it that he prefers to be alone, except, of course, for his son.”

  “Then we are very lucky,” Amalita replied blandly.

  She thought that there was a hint of a frown on Lady Hermione’s oval forehead and a suspicious look in her green eyes.

  “Are you saying that you intend to stay here for the whole of the Season?” she asked coldly.

  “I hope so,” Amalita answered, “but, of course, if the Marquis finds us an encumbrance, we shall have to find a house somewhere in Mayfair.”

  “I think it would be a far better idea,” Lady Hermione answered. “The Earl has always told me what a bore it is when he comes back home to find that the house is filled with people.”

  “If he does feel like that,” she replied, “then Carolyn and I must keep out of his way. It will not be difficult in such a big house.”

  It was definitely not the answer that Lady Hermione had expected and she moved away with a flounce to speak to one of the other ladies.

  When they were joined by the gentlemen, the Earl said that they were all going on to another party.

  “It is quite a small affair,” he added.

  “As it is a small party,” the Marquis said, “and you are an odd number, perhaps Carolyn could join you. I am sure that you, Timothy, will look after her.”

  Amalita saw Carolyn’s face light up.

  “It would be very exciting,” she told the Marquis, “but perhaps the – person giving the party will not want me.”

  “It is a very small party,” Lady Hermione asserted in a crushing tone.

  “All the better then Carolyn will not feel overpowered by it,” the Marquis retorted.

  He turned to his nephew.

  “Now, you look after Miss Maulpin,” he admonished, “and then bring her home early. I don’t think you need a chaperone to accompany you just from here to Grosvenor Square.”

  “No, of course not, uncle,” Timothy answered, “and I will most certainly take very good care of Miss Maulpin, as you suggest.”

  There was nothing that Amalita could say.

  She was well aware of why the Marquis was adding Carolyn to the party.

  It amused her to see him handing her into the same carriage with the Earl and Lady Hermione.

  Timothy sat opposite her with his back to the horses.

  As they then drove off, Amalita was certain that Lady Hermione was furious at her tête-à-tête with the Earl being interrupted.

  Amalita and the Marquis went back to the drawing room. As they did so, he said,

  “You did not mind my sending Carolyn with them? I just knew that it would annoy Lady Hermione and perhaps will make David realise how very tiresome and difficult she can be.”

  Amalita thought it was unlikely that Lady Hermione would show that side of her character to the Earl.

  She was aware that the Marquis was delighted with himself. He had struck a blow at a woman he disliked and of whom he disapproved.

  She knew exactly what he was trying to do.

  There was no doubt at all that Lady Hermione was an upper-class version of Yvette.

  She could recall only too well how she had ensnared and captivated her father.

  Anyway, even if the Marquis’s dream of marrying his son to Carolyn was not to be fulfilled, at least she was in the right place and meeting the right people.

  “I had never thought about it until this moment,” the Marquis was saying, “but perhaps, Lady Maulpin, you too would have liked to go to the party?”

  “I am perfectly content to be here with you, my Lord,” Amalita replied. “It is Carolyn we have to think about and to find her plenty of partners when she goes to a ball.”

  “There will be plenty of partners for her right here at my ball, which I am already planning for next week.”

  Amalita looked at him in astonishment.

  “Next week? So soon?”

  “The sooner, the better,” he replied, “and I am already writing to the Lord Chamberlain to say that you would like to present your stepdaughter at the second Drawing Room. I am sure that the first is already fully booked.”

  “Oh, my Lord, just how kind you are. How very very kind,” Amalita exclaimed.

  The Marquis put his hand over hers.

  “I want to be kind to you,” he said, “not only because you were the wife of my old friend but also because you are very beautiful. I find it so sad to see you in mourning. I would hope, Lady Maulpin, that you will wear colours that will enhance the perfection of your skin and your very lovely hair.”

  Amalita stared at him in surprise.

  She realised that he was deliberately flattering her.

  He wanted to console her for the loss of the man he himself had loved.

  She was wearing black tonight because she thought it was too soon to appear in any way frivolous.

  Also she felt that in black she looked older than she would have done in her mother’s gowns.

  She smiled at the Marquis and explained,

  “I have always disliked black and so, to please you, I will wear bright colours. It is a mistake to live in the past when t
here is so much to look forward to in the future.”

  “Now that is a very sensible thing to say,” the Marquis replied approvingly, “and that is just what we will do, my dear, you and I. I was praying, as I looked at your pretty stepdaughter tonight, that my son would realise that she is in every way different from that creature who was sitting on his other side.”

  She had not missed seeing that Lady Hermione had kept both the Earl and the gentleman sitting on her other side enthralled with her conversation and flirting.

  She managed to amuse them all through dinner.

  They were halfway through the menu before the Earl had turned and spoke to Carolyn.

  Whatever she had replied had made him laugh.

  This, Amalita thought, was definitely a hopeful sign.

  But only a minute later Lady Hermione had recovered his attention.

  After that he spoke to Carolyn only the once or twice before the dinner was finished.

  Amalita had in fact not in any way wished to depress the Marquis. She hoped that he was not aware that so far his plotting and planning had been unsuccessful.

  He talked about the ball he was giving and the people he was inviting.

  At least a dozen of them were names she recognised as being in her father’s address book.

  “I am so excited about your party,” she enthused. “I can only pray, my Lord, that Carolyn and I will not be a disappointment to you.”

  “You could neither of you ever be that,” the Marquis asserted. “And I am so hoping to make my son see sense. Surely he is aware that Lady Hermione is of no use to him and she would be wholly detrimental to his character, his career and to the position that he will eventually hold as the Marquis of Garlestone.”

  He spoke so violently that Amalita said quickly,

  “We can only pray and that is – something I promise – I will do for you.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Earl yawned as if he was feeling tired.

  It was not surprising, considering he had just enjoyed three hours of fiery and passionate love-making with Lady Hermione.

  He was thinking that it was time he dressed and went home.

  As a rule the Earl disliked making love to a woman in her husband’s house.

  But, as Lord Buckworth was seldom in London, he had broken this rule.

  Lady Hermione’s house was just off Park Lane and it was therefore very convenient for him.

  He yawned again and a soft cooing voice beside him purred,

  “Darling wonderful David, I have to tell you that now Lionel is worse. The doctors say that it is only a question of days before he dies.”

  The Earl stiffened.

  “If that is what you have been told,” he then replied, “surely you should be with him?”

  “What is the point?” Lady Hermione asked. “He does not recognise me now and the doctors and nurses are very efficient.”

  She moved a little nearer and her long fingers touched the Earl’s bare skin before she said,

  “You know what that means, darling? I shall be free!”

  The way she spoke made the Earl instantly become aware of danger.

  It was as if there were red lights dancing in front of his eyes and bells ringing in his ears.

  After a definite pause, he said,

  “It will soon be dawn. I must go home.”

  “Very soon when I will be free,” she answered, “I can then keep you with me all the time and there need be no question of you leaving me.”

  With an effort the Earl climbed out of the bed.

  Lady Hermione tried to stop him from doing so, but as her fingers slipped away, she said,

  “Why are you in such a hurry? I want to talk to you.”

  “At this very late hour,” the Earl said coldly, “there is really little to discuss.”

  “Not where we are concerned,” she replied. “You do know, of course, David, without my putting it into words what I want and we will be very, very happy.”

  Next the Earl had slipped on his shirt.

  He buttoned it down the front, looking into the mirror over the mantelpiece as he did so.

  Then he said,

  “If you are thinking that you and I might be married, Hermione, let me make it very clear to you, I would never marry anyone my father disapproved of.”

  Lady Hermione sat up in bed.

  “That is a ridiculous thing to say?” she objected. “We all know that parents are jealous when their offspring fall in love.”

  The Earl was now dressing quickly and, as he put on his long, dark evening trousers, he said,

  “I am devoted to my father and, as I have just said, I would never do anything to upset him.”

  “And you think I would upset him?”

  “To be frank, Hermione,” the Earl replied, “it would upset him enormously. That he does not approve of you is hardly surprising.”

  “Now you are being horrid to me!” Lady Hermione protested in what she thought was a very childlike voice. “I love you, David, and I swear that when I am your wife I will make you very happy, so happy that nothing else will be of any significance.”

  The Earl then shrugged himself into his smart tightly-fitting tail-coat.

  And as he looked in the mirror to sweep back his dark hair, he said,

  “We will talk about all this another time, but there is really nothing more to say. And I think, unless you wish to shock the Social world more than you have done already, you should be at your husband’s side when he dies.”

  As he spoke, he walked across the room towards the bed.

  Lady Hermione held up her arms.

  “Kiss me goodnight, my adorable David,” she begged. “You cannot leave me unhappy and forlorn.”

  She looked anything but forlorn, but the Earl made no comment.

  He merely took one of her hands in his and raised it perfunctorily to his lips.

  Then he said,

  “Thank you, Hermione. Goodnight.”

  He had reached the door before she cried out,

  “So when shall I see you again? I really must see you tomorrow. Please dine with me or shall I dine with you?”

  Before she had spoken those last words, the Earl had closed the door.

  She heard his footsteps going rapidly down the stairs.

  For a moment or two she wondered if she should run after him.

  Then she knew that he could evade her quite easily by opening the front door and walking into the street before she could stop him.

  Petulantly she beat her pillows with her clenched fists.

  She knew, although she would never acknowledge it, that the Earl had no intention of marrying her.

  He had told her often enough that he had no wish to be married.

  In the Clubs he was knows as the ‘Elusive Bachelor’.

  ‘How can he do this to me?’ Lady Hermione asked herself furiously.

  She punched her pillows again and again.

  But she knew in her heart that she was just another woman who the Earl had amused himself with.

  But he was everything that she wanted in a husband.

  It was not only that he was so rich and would be the Marquis of Garlestone one day.

  It was also because he excited her more than any other man had ever done.

  She had believed that he would never be able to leave her.

  Lady Hermione had sent many men away when she was tired of them and some had been sad and some angry, some vowing that one day she would suffer as they were suffering.

  ‘That is what is happening to me now,’ she thought.

  She turned over to lie on her back, looking up at the ceiling.

  She was now planning and plotting what she would do when that tiresome old man who was dying in the country had finally gone.

  When she was totally free, she would somehow force the Earl to make her his wife.

  She refused to accept that he would dispense with her as his mistress.

  The ardency and
great fervour of their love-making had convinced her that physically she was his.

  However, she had always known that there was a part of him that could never be hers, something that she did not understand.

  Every other man with whom she had come in contact had been so wholeheartedly at her feet.

  Sometimes when she had wished to be rid of them, she had almost to cut them loose from her.

  Even then, however brutal she had been, they would crawl back because she was so irresistible.

  ‘If I lose David, I shall kill myself!’ she said to herself dramatically.

  Then she laughed.

  How could she imagine for a moment that he would be able to resist her?

  Nor was it possible that he would desire her no less than she desired him.

  ‘I was rather too impatient,’ she admonished herself. ‘I should have waited until Lionel had died before telling him that I was ready to be his wife.’

  It was something that she had never said to any other man.

  She had imagined that the Earl would be as elated as she was at the thought of their belonging to each other.

  Then there would be no necessity for him to go home before dawn.

  ‘He will most certainly be back here tomorrow,’ she thought with a confident smile.

  Pulling the sheets up over her naked body, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

  *

  Walking back through the empty streets to Park Lane, the Earl found that the coolness of the night air was very refreshing.

  It struck him that he was tired of the exotic perfume that Hermione always used. It remained persistently on his body until he had his bath.

  He also thought, rather unexpectedly, that he was tired of having to walk home just before the sun rose.

  It would be a relief to climb into an empty bed in the quietness of his own room.

  It was stupid, but it had never occurred to him until now that Hermione would want to marry him.

  He wondered how he could have been so foolish.

  He should have realised that once she was free there was no one who would make her a more desirable second husband than himself.

  He could not remember in all his many affairs when a woman had actually asked to be his wife.

  The majority of them had said,