She felt the tears of helplessness gather in her eyes. She had never felt so young or so childlike in her desolation. She wanted her mother and her father. She wanted to cry out to them to save her.

Then she found herself whispering a prayer.

‘Please, God, don’t let them – hurt me. Please, God, don’t let them – kill me.’

She knew as she prayed that only God could save her from the predicament that she was in now. On two other occasions she had come up against Lord Wroxhall, but each time the Marquis had been there.

He had arrived just in the nick of time.

She had been well aware of the danger that she was in. There was a ruthlessness and cruelty about Lord Wroxhall that could not be disguised by his oily voice or his elaborate dandified appearance.

She had known that he was evil from that very first moment in Stade Hall. She had known it as she stepped out into Berkeley Square and been afraid that he would use violence to take her into his house.

And if he wanted something, he would stick at nothing.

He was determined to be rid of Maria. He had sworn it and now he had put his plan into operation.

It was a clever plan for, if Maria had set out in the coach for the Marine Pavilion, it would have been morning before anyone had the least idea that anything was amiss.

Then it would have been too late. That lovely body, that spun-gold hair, those melting hazel eyes would be lying at the bottom of the sea and there would be no one to tell the tale of what had happened.

Gretna was praying again.

‘God, help – me! God, make them realise it is me before it is too late. Don’t let them spring on me suddenly. Don’t let them throw me into the water – when I am not expecting it.’

It was the unknown that was so horrible and it seemed to be gathering in on her, choking her, chilling her whole body so that she felt as if already the hand of death was upon her.

She tried to be glad that Maria was not in her place and she tried to think of what Maria would do in such circumstances.

But somehow she could only see her lying asleep, deeply asleep, a faint smile on her lips as if she dreamed of the man she loved, her golden hair flowing over the pillows.

Again Gretna saw that Certificate of Marriage staring up at her from the box that Maria always kept beside her. She and the Prince were married and Maria had the courage to keep silent under the most intolerable insults and under the most unbearable slights.

If she was brave enough for that, she would be brave enough to face the far lesser ordeal of physical hurt.