"Oh, Lord, Polly, I promised Nicholas that I would say nothing, but when you told me last week that you would marry the first man who asked, I scarce thought--' Polly took a breath to tell Lucille that she wanted to explain, but Mr Dit ton turned back to them and the chance was lost.

"The supper dance!" Mr Dit ton said, still burning with the unpleasant glow of excitement that his torment of Polly engendered.

"Lovely Lady Polly, do me the honour..."

There was no possible way that Polly could eat anything at all. The food at The Angel was very good for a provincial a.s.sembly, but Polly, plagued by the joint torments of Tristan Dit ton's presence and the sight of Lord Henry ostentatiously ignoring her, sat miserably looking at the plate of strawberries and playing with her spoon. Eventually she excused herself and slipped out of the dining-room. Not even Tristan Dit ton would insist on accompanying her to the ladies' room.

Polly gazed at her reflection with complete lack of interest and tweaked a curl back inside her coronet with a weary hand. The temptation to stay in here forever was overwhelming. She would have to tell Lucille. She could not bear it. A shadow fell across the mirror.

The candles wavered. Polly swung round, a hand to her throat.

She would never have thought it of him, but then she had consistently underestimated Lord Henry March night. He did not care a rush for convention and would go wherever he pleased, even into the ladies'

withdrawing-room. As she watched, he closed the door with great deliberation and came towards her.

"Good evening. Lady Polly," Lord Henry said. With icy courtesy.

"I want to talk to you."

Chapter Fifteen.

QysQ.

All of Polly's emotions flashed into immediate and vivid life, as though she had previously been moving through a dream.

Although Henry was standing at some distance from her, she could feel the anger emanating from him, see the hostility in his eyes. Even as she grasped at the opportunity to speak to him and attempt to explain the dreadful dilemma in which she found herself, something in her quailed before the fury she saw in him.

She put out a hand towards him.

"Henry! Oh, thank G.o.d! Please--it is not as you imagine--' " No? Then how is it, my lady? " There was no gentleness in him now. He took a step forward and caught both her arms above the elbow.

"Is it that Dit ton could offer what I was not free to do? Strange, I did not think you the type to accept an offer for the sake of being married!

Why, you have had many better chances! Morrish! Bel lars!" He shook her slightly. "So perhaps it is that Dit ton's type attracts you? But again, I could have sworn that was not so! Was his love-making prettier than mine, perhaps?"

Polly wilted in his arms.

"Oh, do not," she whispered, unable to bear the anguish in his eyes.

She put up a hand to his cheek.

"Harry, it was not like that! I had no choice..."

There was a moment of complete stillness, when the fury still burned in Henry's eyes, then it faded and he slid his hands down her arms, clasping her cold hands in his.

"Polly, my love, you must tell me what has happened. I was so angry...

I am sorry--' He broke off. " When I saw you tonight I knew something was dreadfully wrong. Tell me. " He tightened his grip. " You must trust me. " The easy tears stung Polly's eyes again and closed her throat. If Henry had remained angry, had reviled her, she would have withstood his hostility in stony silence, but this gentleness almost unmanned her.

"Oh, Harry, I cannot tell--' The tears choked her. She could not bear it.

Henry was still holding her tightly.

"Dit ton is compelling you into this offensive masquerade, is he not?

But--' he frowned '--I cannot see by what means..."

"I cannot tell," Polly said again, unable to meet his eyes.

"Oh, Harry, do not ask me--' " It cannot be because of that foolish incident the other night," Henry continued, his tone hardening.

"That would be a nonsense. So, Polly, what is it all about?

Blackmail?"

His tone compelled her to look up and meet his eyes. She saw stark determination there, anger, puzzlement and an intentness to find out the truth. Her resolve weakened. But it would not be like confiding in Lucille--Henry would feel obliged to take some action, and to pour out Hetty's disgrace to him would be so unfair to her future sister-in-law.

She could not break her silence and expose Hetty's guilt.

"It is not my secret to tell," she said piteously.

"But Harry, it is not my actions that have given Mr Dit ton the means to exert his will..."

Henry frowned.

"Then--' " It is Hetty! " Polly said, and burst into tears.

"Miss Mark ham?" Henry seemed astounded.

"Polly, you must tell me. Trust me--' Polly gazed at him hopelessly.

Surely he could see how desperate she was to tell him, that she trusted him more than anyone in the world, and yet... Henry had forgiven her so much--the youthful immaturity that had stunted her first love for him, her foolish suspicions about his activities. But now he would believe that she did not trust him enough to confide in him, not understanding that a loyalty to her family kept her silent. Polly saw the look of withdrawal she dreaded come into Henry's eyes, and in that second, she realised that the most important thing was not to preserve Hetty's secret, but to entrust Henry with it. She started to speak, but another voice interrupted her before she had said more than two words.

"By all accounts, fishing in other men's pools is your favoured occupation, March night!" Tristan Dit- ton sneered from the doorway.

"An affecting tableau, but not one to which you have any right! Do not approach my promised wife again!"

All expression had been wiped clean from Henry's face. He turned to face the other man. For a moment it seemed that Dit ton flinched back, although Henry had made no move towards him.

"Take care that you do not make her a widow, Dit ton," he said softly, but with an edge to his words that made Polly shiver suddenly.

"It will be my most earnest endeavour to see her so."

"Mr Dit ton!" Barely had Henry brushed past Tristan Dit ton without another word before Lady Belling ham was standing behind him in the pa.s.sage and addressing him in tones of deepest displeasure.

"You do realise that this is the ladies' withdrawing-room, sir? I a.s.sure you, you are the last person a lady would wish to meet when she takes refuge in here! Kindly retire!"

Mr Dit ton flushed bright red and sidled off down the corridor.

"Routed!" her ladyship said with immense satisfaction. She closed the door behind her and turned her critical dark gaze on Polly.

"My dear, how very woebegone you look! Did you have the chance to speak to Lord Henry? I sent him along to you as soon as I was able, but I was afraid that that unpleasant Dit ton fellow would get in the way! What a vulgar piece of work that man is!"

Polly was not sure whether to laugh or cry. There was something so bracing about Lady Belling ham's practical common sense that it made matters seem much less black.

"I was about to confide in Lord Henry when Mr Dit ton came in," she admitted.