Madness! She could not throw away her own future because of Hetty's behaviour. Then, through the open door she saw them, Peter smiling down into Hetty's face with such love, his hand covering hers as it lay on his arm.

Polly remembered his unhappiness over the broken betrothal, how he had made a fool of himself with Lady Bolt, how he had got drunk through his misery on hearing the false news of Hetty's betrothal to Grantley.

"I am at the point where I need a rich wife," Dit ton was saying conversationally, only heightening the horror of it all, 'and you are both rich and well connected. I could never aspire to marry an Earl's daughter under other circ.u.mstances. Come, my dear, we could make a good match of it!

What do you say? " There were a hundred people at the ball, Polly thought with dread. If Dit ton were to announce Hetty's downfall before them all, the effect would be too devastating to contemplate. If she could only buy some time, prevent the disclosure. She need never go through with it and she would be able to talk to someone, sort it all out, explain. Polly's mind was a whirl of thoughts and images.

Henry's face was before her, the scene between them in the conservatory suddenly so distant it seemed almost imagined. Or was this the unreality? Dit ton was like a coiled spring, unpredictable, unstable.

"Very well," she said weakly, and heard his breath hiss with satisfaction, 'but the betrothal must be kept a secret until I have had chance to tell my family--' It had been a gamble and it showed at once how far she had underestimated him.

"A secret!" Dit ton exclaimed gaily.

"No such thing! I want to shout it from the rooftops!" He had grasped her hand and was drawing her with hideous inevitability towards the supper room, where the c.h.i.n.k of china and buzz of voices could be heard. Polly hung back, suddenly terrified.

"Oh, no! You cannot! I did not intend... We must wait--' But her words fell on deaf ears.

"Come, come, my dear, do you think I shall give you the chance to cry off!

Credit me with a little sense, I beg of you! What a sensation this will be-almost, but not quite, as good as telling the guests of Miss Mark ham's debauchery! " Polly gave a faint moan.

"Oh, never fear," Dit ton continued in the same light tone, "I shall keep my part of the bargain for as long as you keep yours! And here we are--ready to break the news!"

A curious silence fell on the room when they entered. The tables, in long rows that stretched towards the picture windows at the end, were laden with a harvest supper and almost full. At the top table, the whole Sea grave family were chatting animatedly to the friends and neighbours around them. Worse, to their left, the d.u.c.h.ess of March night, Lady Laura and Lord Henry were enjoying the repast. Henry's head had been inclined towards his mother as she expressed some view on the sweetness of the strawberries. He looked up as Polly came closer and the glad light sprang to his eyes, to be banished only slowly as he saw Tristan Dit ton pulling her forward by the hand.

Dit ton reached the top table and stopped. He addressed the Earl of Sea grave.

"Lady Polly has done me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage,"

Tristan Dit ton said with oily complacency.

"She has made me the happiest of men!"

There was absolute silence. The Dowager Countess put down her winegla.s.s with a clatter that sent her dessert spoon spinning away.

"Polly? Engaged to Mr Dit ton? What nonsense is this?"

Polly felt Tristan Dit ton stiffen beside her. Afraid of his instability, convinced that he would suddenly blurt out what he had just told her, she hastened into speech.

"It is not nonsense. Mama! I a.s.sure you, I have consented to marry Mr Dit ton. After all, we have known each other all our lives, and I esteem him greatly--' She broke off as she saw the look of contemptuous amus.e.m.e.nt cross her elder brother's face. Polly knew that she had started to rattle on out of nervousness, here in front of all these people. And, as yet, Nicholas had said nothing at all. Beside him, Lucille's face was a blank mask.

Fortunately, Tristan Dit ton had been the only one convinced by her words.

He beamed at the a.s.sembled group.

"Come, congratulate me on my conquest!"

Nicholas Sea grave stood up. The look of scorn in his dark eyes was so swift it was barely noticeable, but Polly saw and understood. He would not make a scene in front of his guests, but the reckoning would come later.

"Thank you for your announcement, Dit ton," Sea- grave said pleasantly.

"I.

shall look forward to having the opportunity to discuss the matter with my sister and. " his hesitation was barely perceptible 'her trustee.

Sir G.o.dfrey."

Dit ton's lips curved in a sneer. Even he was not so thick-skinned to miss the lack of warmth in the atmosphere. He turned to Polly, his hand at her waist, pushing her forwards into the centre of the room.

"Come, my love," he murmured, 'it is time to tell everyone of our tender romance! Speak up, lest your brother think you half-hearted!

You know you must convince him! " Polly could hear the threat implicit in his tone. His hand was hot and damp through the thin silk of her summer dress. Her skin crawled. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, that might help win the day, though she knew in her heart that the cause was hopeless. Then she met Lucille's eyes.

The Countess of Sea grave had one hand resting lightly on her stomach where the faintest curve of her pregnancy was beginning to show. The other hand was on her husband's arm, in a gesture at once tender, supportive and united.

And the look in her vivid blue eyes as she gazed at Polly was one of direct challenge. A sob tore itself from Polly's throat. Lucille had everything that Polly wanted, everything that she had thought at last she might achieve with Lord Henry March night, and here she was, smashing it to pieces before it had begun.

She looked at Hetty Mark ham and found herself trembling on the very edge of exposure. Hetty's disgrace would be her freedom, but then there was Peter.

Peter, who had never been particularly sensitive but was looking at her with a mixture of puzzlement and concern, Peter who would be so hurt.

"You must excuse me... the heat... I feel so unwell..."

But before she could escape the pitiless stare of all those eyes.

Henry's chair went clattering back. Polly saw the outrage and disgust on his face, the blazing fury as he turned his back on her and stalked out of the room, and then she fainted.

Somewhere beyond the locked door, Polly could hear the Dowager Countess's voice rising and falling like a peal of bells.

"It's madness, I tell you, complete madness! To throw herself away on that loathsome creature well, really, G.o.dfrey! Someone must speak to her! No, not you, G.o.dfrey, you would only make matters worse! Oh, Lord, what are we to do?"

There was a rumble from Sir G.o.dfrey, the words indistinguishable, then Polly heard Lady Belling ham's soothing tones.

"Dear ma'am, I do not believe for one moment that Lady Polly wishes to marry Mr Dit ton. Surely what is of concern is the reason she feels she must!"

Polly held her breath. She had great respect for Lady Belling ham's perspicacity.

"She has told us that it is that ridiculous business the other night!"

the Dowager Countess was saying tearfully.

"We have told her and told her that it is of no consequence, but she insists that her reputation is damaged!

I never heard such a nonsense! The girl has taken leave of her senses!

And to pretend that she holds him in esteem! It's utterly absurd! "

Polly heard the sound of a door closing across the corridor, then Lucille's tones, soft and questioning.

"Lucille!" the Dowager Countess expostulated. "You must speak to Polly! At once!"

Polly tensed, awaiting the knock at the door. She could hear Lucille's tones, a brief murmur in stark contrast to the Dowager's histrionics, and then there was silence. Polly waited, but no knock came. She felt so relieved that she almost cried all over again, for now she would at least be spared the necessity of lying to Lucille, something she simply could not bear to do.

She slipped off the bed, where her hot, furious tears had soaked right through the pillow, and went across to the open window. The cool evening breeze from the sea was stirring the curtains, caressing her swollen face with its gentle touch. Polly could not bear to look at her reflection, both to avoid seeing her ravaged face but more to avoid the shock of recognising the pain in her own eyes.

She had cried all night and for the better part of the following day, until she had no tears left. She had cried for herself, for her brother Peter, who had inadvertently put her in this situation, and for poor, f.e.c.kless Hetty, whose obsession with glamour and consequence had been her own--and now Polly's-- downfall. But most of all, Polly cried for the death of all her hopes. She remembered the tenderness with which Henry had held her only the previous evening, the stupefied amazement on his face as Tristan Dit ton had made his announcement, and the way he had turned his back and walked away.