“I am afraid, ladies, I have bad news for you. My Agent informs me that the coach cannot possibly be ready tonight. Only by working on it for at least another seven hours will it be in sufficient repair to leave for London tomorrow morning.”

“That is bad news, indeed,” Mrs. Merryweather replied. “I said our luck was out from the very first thing this mornin’. Well, my Lord, we must thank you for your hospitality and see what sort of accommodation we can find at the local inn. There is one, I think you said.”

“Naturally you will stay here,” the Marquis answered.

He turned to the footman as if there was no question of there being any argument in the matter.

“Tell the housekeeper to have two bedchambers prepared immediately and send to the coach to collect these ladies’ baggage.”

“Very good, my Lord.”

The footman withdrew as Mrs. Merryweather, growing a little red in the face, expostulated,

“This is quite unnecessary, my Lord.”

The Marquis smiled that same cynical twisted smile which had it seemed very little humour in it.

“However reluctant you may be to accept my hospitality, Mrs. Merryweather, you cannot expect me to turn you out at this hour in the evening. Besides I promise you that the village inn is very uncomfortable and not at all suitable for anyone with the countenance of your niece.”

“Very well, my Lord.” Mrs. Merryweather was defeated and she knew it “And we must thank you for being so accommodatin’ in this matter.”

“We must, indeed,” Gretna added warmly. “And I must be truthful and say I am not sorry for what has happened. This house is so lovely and you have so many beautiful things, my Lord. May I look at them?”

“I shall be delighted,” the Marquis nodded. “But we dine at seven o’clock. Perhaps you ladies will wish to repair to your rooms. Your baggage will not be long in arriving.”

“I’m sure, my Lord,” Mrs. Merryweather said a little hastily, “that you would wish us to dine upstairs. It must be an inconvenience to your Lordship to entertain us.”

“If it was, Mrs. Merryweather, I should not hesitate to say so,” the Marquis replied.

His dark eyes met Mrs. Merryweather’s troubled brown ones and Gretna, watching them, fancied that there was a faint glitter in the Marquis’s as if he relished overthrowing the obstacles that were being put in front of him.

Gretna rose to her feet.

“Thank you very much for – having us,” she sighed rather like a child who has been reciting something that she had been told to say.

The Marquis turned his eyes upon her.

“I hope that you will not be disappointed in Stade Hall. It will give me much pleasure to show you some of its treasures after we have dined.”