For a brief moment their gazes met, and Frederica felt more strongly than ever that disturbing thrill.

"Thank you, my lord. I shall," she said breathlessly, feeling as though she were agreeing to something quite different and far more important.

"Good day." Turning, she hurried from the library and all but fled up the stairs to the relative safety of the nursery.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent in going through the boxes that Lord Sea brooke caused to be delivered to the nursery within the hour. Frederica had feared that the sight of her mother's things might be disturbing to Christabel, but the child, rooting ruthlessly through gowns, trinkets and bandboxes, seemed intent only on finding her beloved doll.

Frederica was surprised at the clothing the boxes contained. The dresses were for the most part quite conservative--not at all what she would have expected a fancy-piece to wear. At the bottom of one box she discovered a sheaf of letters tied together with a red riband. Love letters from the earl, perhaps? It occurred to her that the letters might very well be the tangible proof that Thomas would require, and despite a twinge of conscience at the idea of invading Lord Sea brooke's and the late Miss Amity's privacy in such a way, she tucked the stack of letters into a bottom drawer in her room.

"Molly Dolly! Here you are!" exclaimed Christabel as Frederica re-entered the nursery.

"I'm sorry you had to spend all this time in a box." She held the doll to her ear.

"What? You did? I'm glad." She turned to Frederica.

"She says she had a very long nap and is feeling ever so refreshed now."

"I'm so pleased that Molly did not suffer from her experience," said Frederica, coming forward to shake the cloth hand that Christabel held out to her.

"I'm honoured to make your acquaintance, Molly Dolly."

Christabel bent her golden head to the doll's face again.

"She says you are very pretty, Cherry, and she likes you. And she wants to know if she may share my supper tonight."

"Certainly she may. I'll set a place for her at once." ' Lucy brought up the evening meal a short time late rand after she had gone Frederica asked, "What does Molly like best for her supper?"

"Oh, candies and cakes, Cherry! That is all she eats."

"That doesn't sound very nourishing. Axe you certain she would not prefer some bread and milk first?"

Christabel shook her head firmly.

"Molly Dolly eats only sweets, and she is never ill."

"I see that Lord Sea brooke was right. Molly has very decided tastes."

She placed one of her own cakes and one of Christabel's in front of the doll.

"Could she not have extra cakes just for her?" asked Christabel with a trace of disappointment.

"I'm afraid tonight we shall have to share," said Frederica, hiding a smile at the child's tactics.

"Perhaps tomorrow we can convince Cook to send a few extras."

Christabel was certainly not lacking in intelligence, she thought, wondering how often Molly Dolly had successfully doubled her pastries in the past.

Surely a better future could be contrived for the girl than the bleak one Miss Milliken had painted!

Oxam 'ri-m ~ ~w D^ S Frederica established a routine with Christabel, discreetly leaving the house after breakfast for an hour or two in Hyde Park before it become crowded. As Sea brooke House was situated on Upper Brook Street, only a short distance from the Park gates, there was no need to draw unnecessary attention to themselves by taking a carriage or hackney.

After an early dinner, Christabel customarily napped while Frederica read in her room or went downstairs to preserve the fiction that she was Mrs.

Abbott's a.s.sistant. She found, on those occasions, that there was indeed much she could do to help, for the Sea brooke household was in sad disorder.

Indeed, Mrs. Abbott seemed more than grateful for her suggestions regarding the management of the establishment. Christabel then had lessons and games until supper after which she retired for the night, leaving Frederica at liberty until her own bedtime.

During those first days, Frederica saw little of Lord Sea brooke beyond his daily visit to the nursery and an occasional glimpse of him setting out in his carriage or on horseback as and returned from the Fortunately, none of the downstairs servants had yet espied them on their way in or out.

Frederica knew that she should give Lord Sea brooke notice so that Christabel might have another suitable nanny as soon as she left, but she was so enjoying her time with the child that she was loath to end it.

One symptom of her reluctance to leave was that she had yet to read through the letters she had secreted in her dresser drawer. She told herself each evening that she was too tired, or that the candle was not bright enough, but those factors, oddly enough, did not keep her from perusing books gleaned from the library downstairs.

It was after exchanging one volume for another during Christabel's afternoon nap that Frederica decided to have a look at the rest of the house. Thus far, she had seen little but the library, nursery and kitchens. Lord Sea brooke was out, she knew, for she had seen him leaving earlier when she had happened to look down from the nursery window. Walking softly so as not to attract attention from the other servants, most especially the leering butler, she peered into the other rooms on the first floor.

There was a large par lout obviously intended for entertaining on a lavish scale, that boasted a pianoforte and a harp. Frederica had been used to practising frequently on both instruments at Maple Hill, and it was with an effort that she refrained from touching them. The dining-room was easily s.p.a.cious enough to seat forty guests, and the ballroom at the rear of the house was of n.o.ble proportions, if in need of a fresh coat of paint.

As she examined each room, Frederica auto- matieally catalogued the changes she would make in the decor if she were mistress of the house: lighter colours in the dining-room, fresh curtains and matching upholstery in the par lout gilt on the ballroom plaster work Yes, Sea brooke House had the potential to be one of the finest in London, she thought.

Opening another door, she saw a long, well-lit room with paintings hung along either wall.

"Ah, the family gallery," she murmured to herself.

"I wonder what skeletons I might unearth here?" Letting herself quietly into the room, she walked slowly down its length, stopping to admire an occasional portrait or to read the identifying plaque below.

One painting, in particular, of a beautiful young lady, drew her eye.

It was bathed in light from the window opposite, and she paused to gaze at it in delight'.

The painting could not be very old, she thought, judging by the style of the lady's gown. As she exanined the face before her, she was struck with a sense of familiarity. Surely she had seen those soulful blue eyes, those bright golden curls, before?

Realization hit her like a splash of cold water. It was Christabel's face, grown up, that looked out at her from the painting. Had not Lord Sea brooke said that she was the very image of her mother? What effrontery to hang his mistress's portrait in the family gallery! To be certain, Frederica leaned closer to read the plaque. Amity Alexander.

Alexander? But surely, she thought, that was Lord Sea brooke's family name!

Had he married the woman, after all? Suddenly she remembered their conversation in the library, his outrage at her brash suggestion, and comprehension dawned. No, he had not married her. Miss Amity, Christabel's mother, had not been Lord Sea brooke's mistress at all. She had been his sister.

CHAPTER SIX.

lh"~aD~ STARED BLINDLY at the painting before her as she tried to adjust her thoughts to this unexpected revelation. Her first feeling was one of profound relief; Lord Sea brooke was not the villain she had thought him.

Instead of attempting to hide his illegitimate child from the world, he was protecting his dead sister's name from censure. Seen in this new light, his actions appeared almost honourable.

She shook her head slightly. Honourable? Lord Sea brooke was a debauched rake, as evidence Ll by his appearance three mornings previously. An unscrupulous fortune-hunter, he had used his practised charm to dupe a gullible young man into signing away his sister's fortune--a fortune he was already spending! No, in spite of his charity towards his poor orphaned niece, Frederica could not call him honourable. But she now had a problem.

With her primary accusation against him done away, she was no closer to proving the earl a scoundrel than she had been at the outset; He was a fortune-hunter, of course, but she rather doubted that an aging housekeeper's word on that would be enough to invalidate a marriage contract.

Surely there must be financial records about the house that would provide more tangible proof? Frederica nodded grimly. The library, where Lord Sea brooke had his desk, would be the place to start her search. She had just reached the library door when she heard the earl's firm footsteps behind her.

Whirling, Frederica held up the leather-bound volume she had obtained earlier.

"I was merely coming to exchange a book, my lord," she began, when a cry from the stairway stopped her. "Cherry! Where are you, Cherry?" came Christabel's high-pitched, childish voice. "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Frederiea.

"I am sorry, my lord--I thought Lucy was with her." Lord Sea brooke looked annoyed, she thought, as well he might. But then, she had warned him how difficult it would be to keep a child forever quiet. Still, she hurried to the stairs as quickly as she could, hoping to minimize the damage. The earl followed.