"Love!" she said crossly.

'"Most loving mere folly," Lucille quoted lightly,

"Lord, why do I feel so tired all the time?" And she fell asleep where she sat.

The interview with Peter had obviously made Nicholas Sea grave as out of sorts as his brother. He was curt almost to the point of rudeness at lunchtime, announced that he had a number of visits to make about the estate and asked Polly, somewhat surprisingly, whether she would like to join him on the ride. As the day was fine and cooler than of late, Polly agreed with alacrity. They called at a couple of the tenant farms, had tea and cakes at each since Polly was too kind-hearted to refuse the offer, and finished with a gallop along the springy turf at the edge of the sea before turning for home.

The fresh air and exercise had quite restored Polly's spirits and it was unfortunate that as they entered the lime avenue that led up to Dilling ham Court, the cause of her ill-humour should appear before her eyes and undo all the good work of the afternoon.

Lord Henry March night, on an elegant bay, was just trotting down the drive and reined in hastily at the sight of them.

"Lord Sea grave! Lady Polly! This is good fortune indeed! I am just come from the house, where I was told you were out about the estate. I came to take my leave, for I shall be departing Suffolk on the morrow."

Coming so quickly after Peter's a.s.sertions, this could only confirm Polly's suspicion that Lord Henry was for the Weller den houseparty.

Her chestnut mare jibbed slightly as her hands tightened involuntarily on the reins.

"Is this a permanent departure, Lord Henry?" she enquired sweetly.

"You seem to be forever travelling hither and thither! Such a busy life!"

Out of the corner of her eyes she thought she saw a nicker of a grin cross her brother's face, but Lord Henry remained impa.s.sive.

"A temporary separation only, Lady Polly," he said, very courteously.

"As you know, I am as fond of Suffolk as anywhere on earth! I shall be back as soon as I am able."

Polly made a great show of examining her riding gloves.

"And where is your present destination?" she enquired, as though it was of no great moment.

"I have heard that Buckingham shire is proving very popular this summer!"

Lord Henry raised his eyebrows. He was looking so lazily amused that Polly felt herself go hot with annoyance. So he thought it a diversion to trifle with her feelings and then go after other game as the fancy took him!

"Good luck and G.o.dspeed then, Harry," Nick Sea- grave said, leaning over to shake his hand. Polly, watching this display of masculine complicity with irritation, nevertheless noticed the significant look which pa.s.sed between the two men. She frowned a little as Lord Henry turned his horse and cantered away. It was almost as though Sea grave knew something, and yet what was there to know? Lord Henry was, by his own admission, a man whose prime concern was to seek after pleasure, and if there were other, more mysterious, aspects to his character, what could Nick Sea grave know of those?

"I collect that you were wishing him good luck in his gambling," she said crossly.

"In all his ventures," Sea grave agreed smoothly.

Lady Laura March night was becoming a regular visitor to Dilling ham Court, where she and Polly would walk together in the gardens or set their easels up with some idyllic aspect before them, in the hope of capturing it in watercolours or charcoal. Laura made no further reference to her burgeoning relationship with Mr Far rant, and at the evening soirees and parties in Wood bridge, under the watchful eye of the d.u.c.h.ess, she appeared to be avoiding him. Polly was sad but not surprised that rank and consequence had won the day. In the face of the d.u.c.h.ess's powerful disapproval, it was difficult to see how the romance could have prospered.

She asked no questions but simply enjoyed Laura's company, which was certainly a welcome change from that of the Dit tons.

The Dit tons were relentlessly sociable, especially with those they sought to cultivate, and it was difficult to avoid all their invitations. Polly, having managed to excuse herself from a trip to the theatre in Wood bridge in their company, found that good manners forced her to accept the next pressing invitation, which was to make up a party to visit Myrmingham Abbey, a former Franciscan priory whose ruins were particularly romantic and picturesque.

The scenery was indeed very fine but the company a sad trial with Mr Dit ton uncertain whether to bestow his dubious compliments on Polly or Laura, and Miss Dit ton sulking at not being the centre of attention.

"Lady Polly is becoming quite tanned," Mrs Dit ton observed to the Dowager Countess, with a hint of malice, as they returned to the carriages at the end of the day.

"I should not encourage my Thalia to wander about in the sun without a parasol!"

Lady Sea grave looked hard at her daughter but could observe no more than a healthy colour.

"Polly looks very well," she said coldly.

"And she always wears a hat with a very wide brim!"

They all returned from the outing in a scratchy mood that the romantic ruins had done nothing to soothe and Polly was sorely tempted to reject the suggestion that they all go to the Fair at Cold Hollow two days hence.

Rather to her surprise, however, Laura March night seemed very eager to attend and almost begged Polly to go with her.

"The Fair is accounted to be great fun. Lady Polly," Laura said, looking hopeful.

"I am persuaded that you would enjoy it a great deal!"

Her anxious face relaxed into a smile at Polly's reluctant acquiescence.

In the event, Polly rather enjoyed the spectacle. Cold Hollow was only a small town, but its Fair was famous for miles around. The proceedings were opened by the Town Crier ringing the revels in as the Mayor processed down the street, accompanied by four civic dignitaries.

They seemed very full of their own importance and Polly and Laura could not help but laugh at their rather tattered livery of gold and blue.

Once the ceremonial part was over, the traders and stall holders were free to start peddling their goods. The visitors strolled between the booths, admiring the variety of entertainments, from livestock to a small circus.

Tristan Dit ton was persuaded to show his prowess in the boxing booth, despite Mrs Dit ton's protests that it was not suitable in front of the ladies. He took a heavy fall almost immediately against the Suffolk Champion, Mal Mar combe.

"Oh, dear," Lady Laura whispered in Polly's ear, "I believe Mr Dit ton's pride has taken the heaviest tumble! He looks quite furious! Do let us stroll on ahead, Lady Polly, and avoid his ill temper!"

The day was fine with a light breeze, and it was fun to meander through the crowd, eyeing the attractions. Lady Laura caught Polly's arm.

"Oh, look, a gypsy fortune-teller! I am minded to go in and discover my destiny!"

Polly hesitated, for she was not at all sure that this was the sort of entertainment of which the d.u.c.h.ess of March night would approve.

Turning around, Polly saw that Mrs Dit ton, their chaperon for the day, was a considerable distance behind and appeared to be involved in some kind of altercation with both her children and an angry stall holder.

Polly's heart sank. She had no wish to rejoin them and become embroiled in the dispute, and Lady Laura was already at the tent entrance, ready to pull aside the flap and go in.

"Very well," Polly said weakly.

"I shall wait here for you, Laura. And do not let them cozen you!"

But it was too late. Lady Laura had already disappeared into the tent's dusky, sweet-scented interior and with a sigh, Polly sat down on the gra.s.s to wait.

It was very warm in the sun and Polly was almost convinced that she had nodded off to sleep, although when she opened her eyes again everything looked much the same. She could not see the Dit tons, for which she was profoundly grateful, but as she blinked against the bright sunlight, she was almost certain that she saw Lady Laura, arm in arm with Mr Far rant, just pa.s.sing out of sight behind the roundabouts. She scrambled to her feet, pulling aside the tent flap and peering into the gypsy's den.

Dark, inquisitive eyes surveyed her from top to toe.

"Fortune, lady?" the old woman asked, holding out a hand to encourage Polly forward.

"I can tell you all about the handsome gentleman waiting to steal your heart--' " No, thank you," Polly said hastily, backing out of the tent.

So Laura had slipped away! Polly hurried past the stalls that lay between her and the fun fair. Where had they gone? Polly could not spot Laura's slender figure anywhere. Bells for sheep, leather gaiters, linen gaberdine for labourers, Birmingham jewellery... Polly's head spun. She hurried around a corner, convinced she could see Laura in the distance, and found herself back in front of the fortuneteller's tent. Nor was she alone there.