"Tell us," Lucille repeated, and her tone was inexorable.

Polly allowed herself to look across at Peter and Hetty, who were sitting opposite her on the sofa. Peter looked vaguely puzzled but the delicate colour had already started to come into Hetty's face, as though she sensed what was to come. Polly took a deep breath.

"Very well, if it must be so. Mr Dit ton came to me on the night of the ball. First he suggested that we should become betrothed to protect my good name from the scandal caused by his presence in my bedroom that night at the House of Tides. I thought this ridiculous and told him so. He then dropped all pretence of respect and affection." Polly looked briefly at Hetty again.

This was so very difficult. Everybody was quite silent, waiting for her to continue. Lucille was willing her on with a look of combined sympathy and determination.

"Mr Dit ton told me," Polly said very clearly, 'that he had information injurious to Hetty's reputation and that he would make it public--announce it in the ball- room--if I did not immediately consent to an engagement between the two of us. " "Oh!" Hetty had gasped even before Polly finished speaking, pressing one hand to her mouth, her cheeks scarlet and her eyes wide with horror. Polly watched as Peter moved closer, taking her hand in a comforting hold.

"Mr Dit ton must have told you what that information was in order to gain your consent," Lucille observed, coolly.

"And it must have been convincing.

You would not have believed it else. " Polly's eyes flew to her face.

"Yes, indeed, but-- Lucille, I cannot!" She threw another look at Hetty, who had turned her face into Peter's shoulder.

"Hetty, I am so sorry! I did not wish to tell--' Peter's face was grim.

"You should finish Dit ton's tale. Poll!"

"How can I?" Polly appealed to them. She felt sick at what was happening.

Hetty looked like a broken b.u.t.terfly, her tumbled curls brushing Peter's shoulder, her face hidden. Polly had a horrible vision of Peter pushing her away, repudiating her when he knew the truth. Yet Peter was holding her so tenderly, whispering words of comfort, almost as though he knew. "You know!"

she said, almost accusingly.

"I know the truth," Peter said harshly, 'but what is the tale? "

Astonishingly, whilst Polly groped for the words, it was Henry who answered.

"My guess is that Dit ton told Lady Polly that Miss Mark ham had spent a night alone at an inn with a man, and that the man was Edmund Grantley."

This time it was Polly who gasped. She stared at him in astonishment.

"How could you possibly know?"

Across from her. Henry said bitterly, "I would guess further that Lady Polly could not bear for her future sister-in-law to be ruined, but most of all she could not see you hurt and disillusioned, Peter.

Perhaps she thought that you might already know and that you were protecting Miss Mark ham by offering her marriage. In either case.

Lady Polly knew that you loved Miss Mark ham sincerely and would be dreadfully injured by the disclosure. It was misplaced loyalty that kept her silent--and impelled her into the betrothal."

Polly could not speak. Hetty was crying quietly in Peter's arms and Polly wished she could follow suit. Her mother's face was stiff with shock and horror, Nicholas looked almost as grim as his brother, and it was Lucille who came across to Polly in a rustle of silk and put an arm around her.

"I did what I thought was right!" Polly said. It seemed to her that the words came out too loudly, rattling the china, making her listeners wince.

"Of course you did," Lucille said soothingly, hugging her close.

"It is just that Mr Dit ton's story was not true. Oh, if only you had confided in someone--' She bit her lip, clearly thinking that this was hardly the time for recriminations.

The Dowager Countess, who had been viewing Hetty's sobbing figure with a mixture of concern and doubt, turned to Lucille, her face clearing.

"The tale was not true, you say? Dit ton invented it? But--' Nicholas Sea grave stirred slightly.

"Peter," he said thoughtfully, 'there is nothing for it but to tell the truth. " Hetty gave a little whimper.

"Oh, must we, indeed? I cannot bear--' " Yes, you can, my love. "

Peter put her a little away from him, giving her an encouraging smile so full of love and warmth that Polly felt a huge lump in her throat.

This was very different from her imaginings, from the denunciation and horror that she was certain would greet her revelations.

"It is true," Peter said grimly, 'that Edmund Grant- ley took Hetty to the Rose and Crown at Famforth and imprisoned her there. There is no doubt his intention was to seduce her. He had taken her driving that afternoon and Hetty had become concerned at the distance they had gone from home. It was dusk when they pulled into the yard at Famforth, and Grantley's intentions soon became clear to her. " He glanced down at Hetty, who was still held close to his side, her eyes cast down, her face now as pale as it had been scarlet before.

"He kept her locked in one of the chambers for several hours whilst he drank below," Peter continued savagely.

"Several people heard Grantley boasting drunkenly of the ripe little bird he had waiting for him upstairs. All might have fallen out as he had planned had I not chosen to put up at Famforth that night."

"You!" It was the Dowager Countess whose stunned accents spoke the word and conveyed that she had already understood the rest of the story.

Peter sat up a little straighter and took Hetty's hand in his once more.

She was still very pale, but a light burned in her eyes. Watching her, Polly understood. Hetty was safe in the knowledge that Peter loved her above all things and that his love would never falter. He would not desert her to the condemnation of the world.

"It was too late to travel on to Kings mar ton that night, and Famforth was conveniently on my route," Peter confirmed, meeting his mother's eyes very directly.

"Hetty heard my arrival, heard me talking to the ostler, and recognised my voice." He looked at her and smiled.

"She smashed the window and shouted to me for help. Grantley was still downstairs and I.. persuaded him to take himself off. It was quite a mill."

There was grim amus.e.m.e.nt in Peter's voice.

"Then I went to find Hetty. She was desperately upset and frightened."

There was a pause whilst everyone filled in the missing bits for themselves.

Polly could imagine Hetty's overwhelming relief at her rescue, the breaking of the tension after such terror, Peter's fear for her and his feelings on finding her unharmed. An irresistible pa.s.sion could quite easily sweep one away. Moral frailty, perhaps, but entirely understandable. Looking up, she caught Henry March night's eyes upon her, accurately reading every thought and looking very interested.

Polly blushed and looked away.

"I think you all know already," Peter said gently, 'how much I love Hetty and how honoured I am that she will be my wife. None of that has changed and I would marry her tomorrow if I could! I wish with all my heart that I had never done anything that endangered her reputation but--' he shrugged '--such things happen and it is pointless to deny it. Poor Hetty has been through agonies of regret and remorse but I feel she has done nothing of which she should be ashamed. I can only repeat that I love her with all my heart. " "A good thing that you are to many so soon!" The Dowager Countess said trenchantly, conveniently forgetting that it had been her most ardent hope to see the marriage at St George's, Hanover Square, the following spring.

"But the scandal, Peter! Whatever can Mrs Mark ham have thought when Hetty did not return that night?"

"Mama was most distressed," Hetty confirmed, speaking for the first time and just managing to overcome her embarra.s.sment.

"Fortunately, my aunt and cousins were from home, so knew nothing of the scandal, and when Mama saw that it was Peter who had rescued me and that we were..." she blushed 'betrothed once more, her fears were put to rest. " The Dowager Countess snorted.

"A fine protector, indeed, who takes advantage--' Aware of where her words were leading her, she broke off again. Her eye fell on her younger son, defiantly looking back at her, and she softened slightly.

"Well, well!" She looked as though she were about to say "No harm done!" but quickly changed her mind.

"What I do not understand," Lucille said, a frown on her forehead, 'is how Tristan Dit ton came to know of this--or at least to know enough to make up so damaging and scurrilous a story. " Now it was Henry's turn to look a shade embarra.s.sed.