It took Lady Pamela a while to catch the idea of turning the handles steadily instead of stopping each time she jumped successfully over the rope. But finally she could jump three times in succession before getting the rope tangled about her feet.

aHow can you do it so many times?a she asked Fleur petulantly.

Fleur laughed. aPractice,a she said. aJust as with the pianoforte.a Though that was ridiculous, she thought, laughing again. She had not skipped rope for perhaps fifteen years.

aCharming,a a languid voice said from the doorway, so far distant that neither Fleur nor Lady Pamela had heard the doors open. aTwo happy children, would you say, Kent? Ah, but no, one of them transforms herself into Miss Hamilton, now that I have my glass to my eye.a Fleur could feel her face flaming. Lord Thomas Kent and Sir Philip Shaw were strolling toward them along the gallery, Sir Philipas quizzing glass to his eye. She rolled up her own skipping rope with hasty fingers.

aI am skipping,a Lady Pamela announced.

aSo I see.a Lord Thomas regarded them both with laughing eyes and winked at Fleur. aHow is my favorite niece today? Can you skip the length of the gallery?a aI donat think so,a Lady Pamela said.

He took a coin from his pocket and stooped down in front of her. aThis is yours if you can,a he said.

Lady Pamela drew a deep breath and went hurtling off along the gallery, tripping over the rope every few steps. Both gentlemen laughed as they watched her go.

aI forgot to tell her that she must do it without once coming to grief,a Lord Thomas said, and strolled, laughing, after her.

aWhat a charming picture you made,a Sir Philip said to Fleur. aI am sorry in my heart that I spoke as soon as I did. I have not seen such a trim pair of ankles in a long while.a Fleur stooped down without replying and put her skipping rope back into the cupboard. She had found the gentleman decidedly flirtatious when she had danced with him on the evening of the ball. By the time she stood up, Sir Philip was standing before her, one hand against the wall, regarding her with heavy-lidded eyes.

aWhere do you hide away when you are not with the child, my sweet?a he asked. aUpstairs?a She smiled briefly and willed Lady Pamela to turn and skip back down the gallery again.

aYou must be lonely up there all alone,a he said, and leaned forward to kiss the side of her neck.

aDonat,a she said firmly.

But the hoped-for interruption came in an unhoped-for way. Two ladies had entered the open doors of the gallery, one of them the duchess.

aAh, darling,a she said, stooping down to kiss her daughter as Sir Philip moved off to examine one of the paintings through his glass. aMaking friends with Uncle Thomas, are you?a aSee, Mama?a Lady Pamela held up her coin. aI can skip. I will show you.a aSome other time, darling,a her grace said, straightening up. aMiss Hamilton, will you please take my daughter upstairs to her nurse, then await me in my sitting room?a aThe dragon is incensed, I fear,a Sir Philip muttered without turning from the picture. aShe is usually at her worst when she smiles and speaks so sweetly. My most abject apologies, my sweet. I will make it up to you some other time.a Fleur walked half the length of the gallery, her chin up, though her eyes were lowered to the floor. She curtsied, took the skipping rope from Lady Pamelaas hands, took one of her hands in hers, and led her from the room.

aBut, Mama,a the child wailed. aI want to show you.a aWas it a forbidden romp, Sybil?a Lord Thomasa laughing voice was saying before Fleur was beyond earshot. aHow shocking.a FLEUR STOOD QUIETLY INSIDE the door of the duchessas sitting room for all of half an hour. For some five minutes of that time she could hear coughing in the adjoining dressing room. Finally the door opened and her grace came in. She crossed to a small escritoire without even glancing Fleuras way and picked up a letter lying there. Fleur stood for another full five minutes while she read it.

The duchess set down the letter and turned to look Fleur slowly up and down. aSlut!a she said sweetly.

Fleur looked at her calmly.

aBy whose authority were you in the gallery?a her grace asked.

aBy his graceas,a Fleur said.

aI beg your pardon?a The voice was soft, the face delicate and surprised.

aBy his graceas, your grace.a aAnd by whose authority was my daughter playing with the toys there?a aBy mine, your grace,a Fleur said.

aI see.a The duchess picked up a book from a stool and seated herself gracefully on the daybed.

Fleur stood quietly for several more minutes while her grace turned pages.

aIs it your habit,a the duchess said, looking up at last, her voice expressing pleasant curiosity, ato allow every man you meet to fondle you?a aNo, your grace.a aAre you not satisfied with the salary you are paid?a aYes, thank you, your grace,a Fleur said. aI am very satisfied.a aI thought perhaps it was the money,a the duchess said. aI can understand that for some servants it must be tempting to augment wages in such a manner. In your case it seems to be merely that you are a slut.a Fleur said nothing.

aI wish you no ill,a her grace said. aYou are what you are, Miss Hamilton. Perhaps you are unfortunate to have a mistress who has such tender sensibilities. But it distresses me beyond bearing to think of your being close to my daughter and influencing her. I will expect Mr. Houghton to inform me early tomorrow morning that he has been handed your resignation. I regret having to make such a request. You may go.a aSir Philip Shawas attentions were unasked-for and unwanted,a Fleur said. aI do not believe you have cause to suspect me with anyone else.a The duchess laid aside her book carefully and looked slowly about the room, her eyebrows raised. aI do beg your pardon,a she said with a light laugh, abut is there anyone else in this room?a aI spoke to you, your grace,a Fleur said.

aTo me?a The duchess looked at her and smiled. aYou have an unfortunate habit of not identifying the person to whom you speak, Miss Hamilton. I did inform you that you are dismissed, did I not?a But the door from the dressing room opened before Fleur could turn, and Lord Thomas Kent stepped inside.

aStill here, Miss Hamilton?a he said. aYou must be fit to drop. Have you not offered her a seat, Sybil? How uncivil of you.a His eyes were laughing.

aYou are dismissed, Miss Hamilton,a her grace said.

aFrom the room?a Lord Thomas said. aBy all means. But not from the house, I hope. My sister-in-law has the most volatile of tempers, Miss Hamilton. But she is not vindictive once she has calmed down. I believe you will still find yourself with employment by the end of the day. You had better move now before you fall down. I believe you must have been standing on that same spot for the better part of an hour.a He smiled at her as she turned and made her way from the room.

Perhaps she should resign, she thought, assuming that she would have any choice in the matter anyway. Perhaps she should leave even before morning. Even before dinner.

But if she left, Matthew would think she was running from him. And he would come after her and fetter her and take her off to prison this time. Her temporary reprieve would prove to be very temporary indeed.

Besides, even if she did get away without being caught, what would she do? She had no money and no references. Her situation would be appallingly familiar, except that this time she would know how it must end.

She shut the door of her room behind her and locked it. And she threw herself facedown across the bed.

She had been so filled with elation just a few hours before. There had been the fresh air and the outdoors and the blessed, blessed freedom. And there had been that ride and her absurd happiness over the mad and dangerous race. Despite the fact that he had been her companion, she had been happier than she could remember being for years. Even happier than she had been at the ball. Her happiness with Daniel had been a quieter, less vibrant thing.

Daniel! She must not think of him. The pain of dull hopelessness would be too hard to bear if she allowed herself to think of him.

aTHOMAS,a THE DUCHESS OF RIDGEWAY said indignantly, athat was intolerable. You quite undermined my authority, and people tend not to take me seriously anyway because I am so small and mild of manner.a aAre you angry with me?a He leaned down and kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth and bearing her back and sideways until she was lying along the daybed. aDo you want to fight me? Kick me? Come on, then.a He laughed down at her.

aI am serious,a she said, lifting a hand to trace the line of his jaw. aI had quite steeled myself to be strict, and you completely spoiled the effect.a aWhat has the poor girl done?a he asked. aAllowed a bored guest to taste her lips? I gather Shaw is a lusty enough character, Sybil. Doubtless he was the seducer and she the seducee, even if she was enjoying what she was getting. And one can hardly fault his taste. She is a pretty girl.a He laughed at the look in her eyes. aOr would be to a man who is not besotted with you, of course.a aAre you?a she asked, twining an arm about his neck.

aBesotted with you?a he said, the laughter dying from his eyes. aYou know there has never been anyone but you, Sybil, and never could be.a He kissed her long and deeply.

aShe is a woman of loose morals,a she said. aShe really must go. I was shaking with the distress of having to dismiss her, but I did what I knew to be right.a aShe is Adamas, you said?a Lord Thomas smiled at her as he eased her dress off one shoulder. aLet him amuse himself with her, Sybil. I can be persuaded to comfort you. Or are you jealous?a aOf Adam?a she said, wide-eyed. aAnd a governess? I hope I think better of myself than to feel jealousy, Thomas. But I do not think it kind of him to conduct his debaucheries here.a aLeave them alone,a he said. aAnd let Shaw have her too if he wants. And Brocklehurst. The two of them were strolling out on the back lawn and looked to be deep in conversation early this morning. Their tte--tte was interrupted by Adam.a He laughed. aLet Adam be preoccupied with guarding his hot little property. And I will be preoccupied with guarding you.a aOh, Thomas,a she said, throwing both arms about his neck and drawing his head down onto her shoulder, ait is not funny. There is no humor in this at all. What are we going to do?a aPatience,a he said soothingly. aSomething will turn up.a aBut what?a she said. aI am married to him. That can never change. Oh, why did you not take me with you when you left? I would have gone to the ends of the earth with you. You should have known that. I would not have cared.a aI could not,a he said gently. aI could not have taken you out into the uncertainty of my future, Sybil, especially in your delicate condition. I could not do that to you. It would have been too cruel.a aAnd it was not cruel to leave me as I was?a she asked.

aHush,a he said. aAll will work out, you will see. Does anyone ever walk through either of these unlocked doors unbidden?a aNo,a she said. aBut donat, Thomas. Iam afraid.a aDonat be,a he said, getting to his feet and gazing down at her. aWe belong together, Sybil, and you know it. I shall lock the doors and then you may feel quite secure.a He lay down beside her on the narrow daybed when his task was accomplished, and kissed her, drawing up the muslin skirt of her dress with one hand as he did so.

aThomas,a she moaned, her fingers twining in his hair. aOh, Thomas, it has been so long. I love you so.a He kissed her again without replying.

HIS WIFE WAS BRIGHT-EYED AND APPEARED FEVERISH, the Duke of Ridgeway saw later that evening, although she was playing the game of charades with all their guests with a great deal of laughter and enthusiasm. The game had become decidedly bawdy as time went on.

The outing to Wollaston and the constant activity of the last several days, including the ball and the excitement over his brotheras return, were proving too much for her, though she was not admitting it, perhaps even to herself. But he knew her well enough to know that her fragile health could not take such a hectic pace of living for much longer without breaking down.

He wondered if it was obvious to all their guests that Sybil and Thomas were fonder of each other than one might expect of a sister- and brother-in-law. He supposed that it must be. Certainly Shaw had ceased his marked attentions to her and was directing his gallantries toward Victoria Underwood that evening.

The duke supposed that no one would be particularly scandalized even if they had noticed. As he had suspected before he came home from London, his wifeas guests were not a group renowned for propriety and restraint. Sidney had informed him earlier that a poor chambermaid had been bewildered to find Lady Mayberry in Grantshamas bed that morning and Mrs. Grantsham in Mayberryas.

He watched the scene about him rather grimly. Good breeding dictated that he continue to act the courteous and amiable host despite all. He could not possibly do what he dearly wished to do and get to his feet to make the public announcement that the gathering would be at an end the next morning.

The thought afforded him the only glimmering of amusement he had felt all evening.

Sometimesa"just sometimesa"he wished that he had not been born to a privileged and decadent class. But he wondered if any class was totally different if one just knew the truth. Perhaps people were people wherever one looked.

The duchess, flushed and laughing, sat down on a love seat.

aYou always were wonderfully clever at charades, Thomas,a she said, smiling up at him until he seated himself beside her. aI am very glad I was of your team. Now we need something quiet and soothing to calm us down.a aI could think of something without even trying,a Sir Hector Chesterton said.

Her grace reached out to tap him sharply on the arm with her fan. aI said quiet and soothing, you naughty man,a she said. aWho can sing? Walter?a aNo breath, I do assure you, Sybil,a that gentleman said. aLet one of the ladies play us a sonata.a aNot I,a Mrs. Runstable said. aI am quite hagged.a aI make it a practice,a Lady Mayberry said, ato be out of practice whenever I am from home.a Laughter greeted her words.

aIt seems that my suggestion was not such a foolish one after all,a Sir Hector said, seating himself on the arm of the chair occupied by Mrs. Runstable.

aMusic is the soul of love,a the duchess said, smiling and wafting one delicate arm in the air. aGive me music, do.a aHow I wish I could sing,a Lord Thomas said, taking her hand and carrying it to his lips.

aI know of someone who can play like an angel,a Lord Brocklehurst said, aand who is not at all hagged from playing charades all night.a His grace felt an uncomfortable premonition and shifted in his chair as Sir Philip Shaw yawned delicately behind a hand.

aAnd who is this paragon of endless energy?a he asked.

aMiss Hamilton, the governess,a Lord Brocklehurst said.

aAh.a Sir Philip fixed him with a languid gaze. aSo you have a prior acquaintance with the damsel, do you, Brocklehurst, you lucky devil? And even succeeded in discovering that she plays like an angel? Ah, the pianoforte, I assume you mean? Let us have her down by all means, Sybil.a aIt is late,a the duke said. aMiss Hamilton is quite possibly in bed.a aIs she, by Jove?a Sir Philip said. aYour suggestion begins to sound more attractive by the minute, Chesterton.a aWe do not like to keep our servants busy beyond their working hours,a the duchess said.

aBut, Sybil, Sybil.a Lord Thomas reached for her hand again. aIf Miss Hamilton plays like an angel and if it will give Bradshaw pleasure to hear her play, then you really should humor your guest. And if she is in bed, Adam, then you must cancel morning lessons for Pamela and allow her governess to catch up on her sleep. Nothing could be simpler. Bradshaw, pull the bell rope beside you, my dear chap. We will have the governess sent for.a It must be close to midnight, the duke thought as restrained applause greeted his brotheras suggestion. Perhaps he should have spoken his protest more firmly. But it was too late. Thomas was giving instructions to Jarvis.

Fifteen minutes passed before the doors opened again to admit Fleur. Such a length of time suggested that she had indeed been in bed.

His grace jumped to his feet even as his brother got to his, and crossed the room to her.

aMiss Hamilton,a he said, amy guests have requested that you play the pianoforte for us for perhaps half an hour.a Her face was shuttered, her eyes calm. She looked very much as she had looked in that bedchamber at the Bull and Horn, except that now she was healthy and beautiful. He had not realized then, as he realized now, that she often wore a mask to hide the real and vivid Fleur Hamilton.

And it struck him suddenly that she must think that he had betrayed her, that he had given her access to the instrument in the music room and listened to her each morning just so that he might use her talents for such an occasion as this.

aWill you, please?a he asked her.

aWe have been told that you play like an angel,a Sir Philip Shaw said.

But they were not my words, his grace told her with eyes that hardened against the cool expression in hers. It was just such an expression that had angered him on that first occasion and had changed the course of his encounter with her.

aShe is shy,a Lord Thomas said, bowing to her. aMiss Hamilton, would you please do us the honor?a His grace held out a hand for hers, but her eyes had shifted to his brother, and she stepped past him and across the room to the pianoforte without looking back to him.

She seated herself on the stool, very straight-backed, and looked coolly at Lord Thomas.

aIs there any music in particular that you wish for, my lord?a she asked.

He continued to smile at her. aSomething quiet and soothing, Miss Hamilton, if you please,a he said.

aA lullaby, no less,a Sir Philip said. aSomething that will put us in the mood for, ah, sleep, Miss Hamilton.a The duke stood where he was, just inside the doorway, and watched her. She sat looking down at her hands clasped in her lap for a few moments, perfectly calm, perfectly self-possessed. And then she began to play Beethovenas Moonlight Sonata. She had no music.

She played faultlessly, very well even. If something of the magic of her morning performances was missing, probably only he would know it.

And if he continued to stand where he was, he thought as a buzz of quiet conversation spread around him again, then he was going to draw attention to himself. He moved to sit beside one of the ladies who was listening to the music and watched Brocklehurst move around to stand behind the music stool.

Did she play like an angel? If she did not, she certainly looked like one. The unadorned simplicity of her pale blue dress, the same one she had worn to the ball, the plain smoothness of her red-gold hair, the calm beauty of her facea"all set her apart from any of the other ladies present. Yes, she looked like an angel.

Who was she? Isabella? Last name unknown? aHera",a she had begun to call her former home. Brocklehurst lived at Heron House in Wiltshire.

He would get to his feet when the music had ended and escort her to the door. She could return to her bed and to sleep.

But his brother spoke before he could do so.

aBravo, Miss Hamilton,a he said. aYou have a superior touch, indeed. You have some acquaintance with Lord Brocklehurst? I am sure I speak for the whole gathering when I say that you may be excused now with our thanks. Indeed, both of you are excused. Bradshaw?a Lord Brocklehurst bowed as she half-turned on the stool.

aI had hoped that I might take a stroll with Miss Hamilton in the long gallery,a he said. aWith your permission, your grace?a He turned his bow on the duchess.

aYou have my permission, Miss Hamilton,a her grace said with a smile, aand you may for the present forget about the task I set you for tomorrow morning.a His grace resumed his seat and watched her leave as calmly as she had entered, Lord Brocklehurst a few paces behind her. She afforded him only a brief expressionless glance as she passed him.

aWell, I am for bed,a Sir Philip said with a yawn. aMay I escort you to your door, Victoria?a aI think everyone is ready for bed,a the duchess said. aI never felt more tired in my life.a The duke rose to offer her his arm. And he wondered if it had been a trick as deliberate on her part as on his brotheras, to bring Fleur to the drawing room at a shamefully late hour and then to snare her into a tte--tte meeting with Brocklehurst.

aYou are feverish again,a he said to his wife, a hand over one of hers when they paused a few minutes later outside her dressing room. aYou need rest, Sybil. Why donat you stay in bed until noon tomorrow? I will see to the entertainment of our guests.a aI will be better by morning,a she said. aI am just tired. And how can I miss a single hour with my guests? Life is so dull when they are not here. You are either away altogether or about your own business somewhere all day.a aIt need not have been that way,a he said. aWe might have made a marriage of it, Sybil. We might at least have shown each other some kindness.a aNo, it need not have been this way,a she said, looking up at him, her eyes bright and feverish. aI might have been happy. He would not have neglected me, Adam. He would not have left me for months at a time and then resented my inviting guests here to relieve my boredom and loneliness. But then, I would not have needed guests with him. I would have been neither bored nor lonely.a The color was high in her cheeks.

He opened the door for her.

aI will send for the doctor in the morning if your fever persists,a he said, aand for a physician from London if we get no more satisfaction than we did in the winter when you were so ill.a aI donat need anyone but Dr. Hartley,a she said petulantly. aWhy did you send Thomas away, Adam? I will never forgive you, you know. And I am glad he has come back. Glad!a She whisked herself inside the room and closed the door hastily. He could hear her coughing behind it.

He turned back with a sigh to the daytime apartments.

FLEUR HAD NOT AT FIRST been sorry to be woken up. The face bent over her, the body that was causing her such tearing pain and such eternal humiliation, was Danielas. His handsome, pleasant features were distorted by raw carnal lust so that she hardly recognized them. But she knew they were Danielas.

He had been calling her whore while hurting and hurting her.

The maid who had been sent to her room told her, wide-eyed, that she was to dress immediately and present herself to the company in the drawing room.

He had told everyone, she thought, as she dressed herself hastily and with trembling hands. He had decided to tell everyone, and now he was going to confront her with her crime in front of the whole gathering, for the amusement of all.

Her day of reprieve was at an end. And she was indeed his puppet on a string. And would be for the rest of her life.

She felt weary to the marrow of her bones by the time a footman opened the doors into the drawing room and she stepped alone inside to be confronted with light and sound and the sight of a large number of people. But she would not show it. If it was the last thing she was ever to do, she would carry this off with dignity. Neither Matthew nor anyone else would have the satisfaction of seeing her grovel or beg or break down and cry.

And then his grace was standing before her informing her very briefly that the reason she had been called from her bed at midnight was that he wished to display her talents before his guests. She was now to pay for the privilege she had been granted of practicing alone each day in the music room.

Or so she interpreted the few words he did speak.

She looked into his harsh and shuttered face, she looked at the disfiguring scar, and she hated him. Not only did she feel a fear of him and a physical shrinking from him. She hated him. She hated the fact that he could grant what seemed like free favors and then demand payment for them purely for his own pleasure. She hated him for claiming to care for and protect his servants while using them as slaves to cater to his whims.

She remembered their ride, the exhilaration of their race, the splendid sight of him galloping alongside her on his black stallion, surging ahead of her, leaping over the gate in the wall, laughing at her as she came after. She remembered her own laughter, her own happiness, her own strange forgetfulness, just as it had happened when she had waltzed with him.

And she hated him.

She spoke only to Lord Thomas Kent, who always smiled at her with open friendliness, and who had spoken up on her behalf that afternoon in the duchessas sitting room. She would play for him since he had asked and since she did not have any real choice anyway.

His grace stood at the door for a while and then sat down. He had betrayed her. She had played her whole heart out in his hearing morning after morning and he had never disturbed her. He had always given the impression that he listened but respected her need to be alone with her soul. And yet now he had brought her here to play like a performing monkey for people who had had too much to drink and who had no real interest in music anyway.

Something special about those mornings, something she had not thought of or identified before, died. She was very aware of him sitting next to Miss Woodward, quiet, still, dark, and morose. Listening to her. Watching his performing slave.

She hated him. And she was surprised by the force of her hatred. She had only feared him before.