FRF. DEI~ICA WAS STILL shaking when she reached her room. How could she have allowed that to happen? How could he? Unclenching her fingers, she suddenly bee me aware of the money that she held, and she grew hot all over.

So that was it! Unlikely as it seemed, espedally given her drab disguise, that must be it. She was slated to become his next mistress, conveniently placed in his own house to carry out their intrigues under his unsuspecting bride's nose!

For a moment she was nearly blinded by anger that he would callously intend to betray her so.

Then, almost immediately, she was suffused by shame that he would think her willing to parfieipate in such a betrayal.

Abruptly, she recalled Milly's words: "If you are not careful, you will end up being jealous of your selL Was that it? Was she jealous? After a moment's thought, she had to admit that she was. Jealous as Miss Cherrystone that he would go ahead with this marriage for money; and jealous as Miss Chesterton that he would pursue an affair with Christabel's nanny while he was betrothed to her. The situation was patently absurd, but she could find no humour in it. Not now.

She remembered again those few delicious moments in his arms. She knew that she had to him, al210 lower him liberties that amply justified his a.s.sumptions. And she still tingled at the memory of her response to the touch of his lips, his hands, upon her. How was she to face him in the morning?

She couldn't. Now that her body had betrayed her a second time, she dared not stay. Nor was she bold enough to go through with her intended confession. No, she would leave the house now, tonight, get away from his influence, and then make new plans.

Spurred by the thought, she began to pack.

It took her no time at all to bestow her few belongings in the small trunk she had brought.

Changing out of the dress she had worn to the party, she again donned the plain grey gown she had arrived in--was it only two weeks ago? Pulling out pen and paper, she wrote a brief note accounting for her departure, one that anyone might read, though she knew that Lord Sea brooke would divine her real reason. Not until a tear fell onto the sheet before her and smudged her signature did she realize that she was crying. The fifty pounds she left in the top drawer of the dressing-table as repudiation of his offer.

Tiptoeing into the nursery, Frederica gazed down at Christabel in her little bed, serene in sleep, and envied her her unsullied innocence.

The thought of leaving her tore at her heart. I. eaning down, she softly kissed the child's velvet cheek, fervently hoping that the earl might somehow make her understand why she had to leave.

Tears streaming down her face, Frederica left the nursery, closing the door silently behind her.

She picked up her trunk and stole softly down the back staircase and out of Sea brooke House, into the night.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

IN SPITE OF his late night, Gavin awoke early, feeling remarkably refreshed.

For a moment he could not understand his pervading sense of well- being, and then he remembered the pa.s.sionate kiss he had shared with Cherry. He had a vague memory of dreams, pleasant dreams, that had cent red upon her as well.

In that moment, as he lay smiling up at the ceiling, his plans for the future crystallized. He could never be happy with anyone but Cherry as his wife.

Somehow he must persuade Miss Chesterton to call off the betrothal. He would call on Sir Thomas that very morning to discover just how set on the match she really was. Then, once that matter was taken care of, he could lay his heart before Cherry.

His mind clearer than it had been in weeks, Gavin fairly leapt out of bed, ready to execute his plans. He had just finished shaving when Metzget made his appearance, obviously startled to find the earl already awake and alert.

"Good morning, m'lord. Would you like me to... Oh, I see you've already shaved. Mrs. Abbott has asked to speak to you at once. I told her you wouldn't likely be down for an hour or more, but- ' " Thank you, Metzget, I'll be down directly. You may tell her to wait in the library," replied the earl cheerily. His valet helped him to shrug into his coat, then went to report to the housekeeper while Gavin tied his cravat. Even the complicated en cascade gave him no trouble today.

Humming merrily, he descended to the library to ascertain what Mrs. Abbott wanted. Doubtless something pertaining to last night's gathering. At the sight of the housekeeper's distraught face, however, he stopped humming.

"You wished to speak with me, Abby?" he asked at once, his manner slightly more subdued.

Mrs. Abbott was not easily upset, he knew; only something very much out of the ordinary could account for it.

"Oh, my lord! I don't know what to do, and that's the truth. She's gone!"

His normally sedate housekeeper was actually wringing her hands.

"Gone?" he echoed.

"Who is gone? Christabel?" Sudden alarm "No, my lord.

"Tis Miss Cherrystone. Miss Christabel discovered her gone this morning and came to find Lucy. She left in the night, seemingly, and took all her things with her! All she left behind was this."

Gavin s.n.a.t.c.hed the proffered sheet of paper from her hand, his alarm increasing to dread. He read through the brief, polite note, in which Miss Cherrystone apologized for leaving without notice and hoped that he would convey her affection and best wishes to Christabel.

In short, it told him nothing. He knew at once, though, why she had gone.

What must she have thought when he had all but ravished her, then let her go without a word of apology? She knew that he was engaged to be married. With her elevated principles, it must have seemed to her that the only thing she could honourably do was to leave before they could do anything they might regret.

But d.a.m.n her principles! He wanted--needed-- her back I Belatedly, he became aware of Mrs. Abbott still regarding him anxiously.

"Doubtless she has gone to her friend's house here in London," he said rea.s.suringly.

"I shall find her. "

"Pray do, my lord. Miss Christabel is most upset, and will be even more so if she learns Miss Cherrystone don't mean to return. The child needs her--and so do you, if you'll pardon my ~aN~ ~mCEeTiO~ saying so." Mrs.

Abbott actually patted him on the shoulder as she rose to go. She had obviously not missed the anguish in Gavin's eyes. "I believe you are right,"

he said with a rueful smile at the unwitting echo of his own thoughts.

"Do rea.s.sure Christabel while I make enquiries."

FINDINO MISS CHERRYSTONE did not prove so simple a matter as Gavin had predicted. By late that afternoon, he was growing increasingly frustrated--and anxious, as well.

He had known, of course, that many of Cherry's references had been false. As their friendship deepened, he had more than once thought that she was on the verge of telling him the truth about her background, but she had never done so. Now he discovered that not one of her impressive list of referrals could help him to locate her. In fact, none of the people he queried discreetly through Jeffries had so much as heard of a Miss Cherrystone. It was as though she had materialized on his doorstep out of thin air, and had so returned.

When Jeffries delivered a polite negative to his fifth enquLry, he swore in exasperation.

"Blast it, she must have worked somewhere before coming here! What of her friend, the one she visited on her half Jeffries was unable to help him, so the earl went out to the mews himself to speak to his coachmen. With mounting frustration, he discovered that Cherry had never availed herself of the' it services, always hailing a hackney when she left the house.

"I don't suppose anyone happened to notice which one?" he asked without much hope. They had not.

Fighting a sense of despair, he returned to the house. After a moment's thought, he mounted the steps to the fourth floor. Perhaps he could find something in her room to give him a clue.

It seemed that Mrs. Abbott had unfortunately been quite correct. The only thing he saw was the borrowed dress Cherry had worn to the party the previous night. At the sight of it, laid neatly across the narrow bed, Gavin's precarious control began to crumble. He felt closer to crying than he had at any time in his adult life. A slight noise from behind him served to pull him from his painful reverie. He turned to see Christabel standing in the doorway to the nursery, regarding him with big, serious eyes. "She's not coming back, is she, Uncle Gavin?" she asked softly. One crystal tear trickled down her cheek.

Swiftly, Gavin knelt to take her in his arms.

"I don't know, Sunshine," he said huskily.

"I hope she will." They clung together for a few moments, comforting each other for their mutual loss.

Finally Christabel stirred and looked up at him.

"Perhaps Cherry was really a good fairy who came to help us. Perhaps she thought her work was done here, and she went away to help someone else."

"Perhaps," he replied with a twisted smile. In truth, it seemed as plausible an explanation as any he had been able to devise.

Gavin remained with Christabel until her bedtime, playing with the pet mice--Cherry had left these for Christabel, she'd said in her note, along with the peac.o.c.k--and sitting at the table with her while she ate her dinner.

The child seemed to draw some measure of comfort from his presence, as he had to admit, he did from hers. Once the child was asleep, he methodically ex mined Cherry's room. Nothing remained in the clothes-press, he quickly discovered, turning his attention to the dressing-table. Pulling open the top drawer, he saw the roll of pound notes he had given her last night and froze. Suddenly he understood. What must she have thought when he kissed her, caressed her so intimately, only moments after pressing the money into her hand?