"Enough, sweetheart! It seems I misjudged you, too. Such sweet responsiveness will be my undoing!"

There was an undertone of laughter in Henry's voice, but he still sounded shaken.

"My innocent, wayward Lady Polly--have you any idea just what you are doing?"

With great deliberation he pulled her cloak close about her and turned her around.

Polly felt cold and bereft. She wanted to be back in his arms, wanted it quite dreadfully. And yet, all she had ever been taught suggested that this had to be wrong. It was desperately confusing.

"I'm sorry--' she began, in a small voice, but Henry took her arm in a comforting hold.

"Do not be. It was my fault. I thought I knew what I was doing, but you proved me wrong." She saw him grin.

"You may have been smothered in propriety but it seems there may be a chance to redeem you!" He took Polly's face in his hands and kissed her again lightly.

"Now, we must go down to the Well Walk before I forget myself even further."

He took her hand and drew Polly reluctantly down the remaining steps, taking care to let her go before they emerged into the lamplight. The carriages were all drawn up on the Walk and Lucille and the Dowager Countess were already there, turning hopefully at the sound of footsteps, their faces breaking into relief.

"Polly! Poor child! Whatever has happened to you? You're shaking!"

Lucille enfolded her in a comforting hug. Over Polly's head she said to Henry,

"Nicholas is scouring the Terrace, but he should be back directly!

Oh, he will be so grateful. Henry! We were so worried!"

Polly shrank into the shadows whilst the Dowager Countess pressed her slightly more grudging thanks on Lord Henry. She was sure that she must look as bemused and dazed as she felt.

"Thank G.o.d she came to no harm," the Dowager was saying gruffly, eyeing her daughter's fl.u.s.tered face and fortunately attributing her confusion to the shock of being lost.

"We are indebted to you, sir."

Lord Henry smiled.

"By great good chance Lady Polly came to no lasting hurt this evening."

His eyes met Polly's and she saw the wicked twinkle there. She hoped desperately that it was dark enough to hide her burning face.

"Do not be too hard on her, ma'am! I have taken her to task enough for her behaviour!"

"Harry Marehnight playing the moralist!" the Dowager Countess said as the coach rumbled home.

"Who would have thought it! Evidently he has an understanding of proper behaviour after all! I expect he was most uncompromising!"

Polly shivered, remembering the explosive heat of the encounter with Henry.

There had certainly been little of compromise about it.

"He was indeed, Mama!" she said, and only Lucille saw the shadow of a smile that touched her sister-in-law's mouth as she sat back in her corner of the carriage and dreamed.

It was much later that night when Lord Henry March night strolled un.o.btrusively into the card room at White's and glanced around with apparent lack of interest at the games that were in progress. At one table an older gentleman of military bearing was winning steadily at whist, a shrewd look in his eye and a gla.s.s of water at his elbow.

"Fitz patrick has the luck of the devil," Simon Verey said in Lord Henry's ear.

"How does he do it?"

"Easily," Lord Henry said laconically, without turning his head.

"He is sober--the others are drunk. It is an unequal contest."

Verey grinned.

"You look as though you could do with a drink yourself.

Harry! You're uncommon serious tonight! Is it love or business that prompts such severity? " Lord Henry smiled reluctantly.

"A little of both, perhaps... Mr Dit ton is losing heavily," he added with apparent irrelevance, nodding towards a table where a dandy clad entirely in yellow was slumped in his chair, scowling ferociously at the cards in his hand.

Verey was no fool and he knew more than most about Lord Henry's preoccupations.

"Dit ton has always been intemperate in his habits," he observed quietly, 'but lately. " "Yes, he plays too deep--' Lord Henry broke off to greet an acquaintance and turned away from the card tables, moving to a quieter corner.

"Another one for whom matters do not prosper," Verey said, watching Peter Sea grave weaving his way a little unsteadily between the tables.

"Extraordinary, I always thought him the most straightforward of the family!

Nick Sea grave was the very devil for gambling and women before his marriage and now he's as quiet as a lamb and it's Peter who has lost fifty thousand in one sitting!"

Lord Henry winced.

"As bad as that?" he asked. "And in one of Lady Bolt's preferred gaming h.e.l.ls, I have no doubt!"

Verey shrugged.

"She has her claws into him now, for all she's after Gars ton's fortune as well! He would have done better to settle for that sweet little Miss Mark ham!"

"In praise of marriage, Simon?" Lord Henry said mockingly.

"You have become quite the old married man yourself these two years past!"

Verey grinned a little self-consciously.

"I'll not deny that I count myself the most fortunate of men to have found Therese," he said, a little gruffly.

"I am only here tonight because my sister Jane is up from the country and the two of them sent me out so that they could have agossip in peace!"

"How does the d.u.c.h.ess?" Henry asked lightly, smiling as always to think of Jane Verey with so weighty a t.i.tle. Her brother laughed.

"She does very well, I thank you! I shall pa.s.s on your regards! I doubt she will be in Town for long, for Delahaye returns from the continent shortly and will no doubt be in haste to claim his wife! Ah, these tales of married bliss! One might almost consider it fashionable to dote on one's spouse these days!"