As he stepped into the small vestibule of the hotel, he thought that Richard was diverting him far from what had been his intention when he called on him this morning.

He was not for the moment interested in acquiring another mistress. His last one had been selected, he admitted now, rather hastily when he first returned to London and had been a failure.

It was not the money he had expended on her that had irked him, but the fact that he considered he had wasted his time and shown, perhaps for the first time in his life, a lack of good taste.

Fay had, as it happened, been outstandingly lovely. It was only when he got to know her a little better that he had found her inane conversation and the way she giggled at everything or nothing got on his nerves besides the fact that she was greedy almost to the point of absurdity.

It had been his own fault, he admitted, that he had ever become involved and he told himself as Richard led him up the stairs to the first floor, that he would never again act in haste.

Richard knocked on a door, which was opened by a maid somewhat theatrically attired in a mob cap trimmed with lace and an apron that matched it.

“M’mselle expectin’ you, monsieur,” she said in broken English and then saw, with a look of surprise, that Richard was not alone.

The Earl followed him into what was a quite decent sized room.

There was a bed draped with chiffon curtains in one corner of the room and seated at a dressing table in front of the bow window that overlooked the street was a young woman trying on a fashionable bonnet.

Beside her stood the milliner with one bonnet in her hand and several others arrayed in their round boxes on the floor.

“Monsieur Rowlands, m’mselle!” the maid announced from the door, “et un autre gentilhomme.”

The woman at the mirror turned round.

“Richard! Quelle chance! I need your advice. ’How do I look?”

There was no doubt of the answer she expected, for her small piquant face with flashing eyes fringed with dark eyelashes and a red mouth that curved provocatively at the corners was framed by a black bonnet trimmed with lace, red ribbons and scarlet roses.

Not only was the hat sensational but also Genevieve wore only a thin black nightgown that did little to conceal the perfection of her figure.

“Good morning, Genevieve!” Richard said, raising her hand to his lips. “You must forgive me for arriving late, but I have brought with me someone I particularly want you to meet – the Earl of Hellington!”

He stood to one side as he spoke and Genevieve held out her hand to the Earl.

“Enchantée, monsieur,” she smiled. “Richard has told me much about you. I hope I not be disappointed.”

The Earl, as was expected, kissed her hand.