Slowly, as if he deliberated over his words, he set down the glass of wine he held in his hand, and which he had left almost untouched on the polished table.

“I told you that I had been thinking about you, Gretna, as I travelled towards London. I had not thought to see you so soon, but had planned to find out your address by sending one of my servants to enquire at the farm of your aunt, Mrs. Merryweather.”

“Oh – but you must not do that,” Gretna said quickly.

“Why not?” he enquired.

“Well – there is no need,” Gretna answered. “I am here. You have found me. It would be quite unnecessary, would it not, for you to make enquiries – now that we have met?”

“Quite, I agree,” the Marquis said. “I am only informing you of what I intended to do.”

“It was kind of you to be – interested,” Gretna murmured.

“It would be more to the point,” he answered, “to ask why I was so anxious to see you.”

“Yes – of course,” Gretna agreed and then hesitated at a loss for words.

“It was because I had a wish to see you again,” the Marquis explained. “And because I too was perturbed as to what would happen to you in London. You see, my dear, you are very lovely and London is not at all the place for lovely young women to be on their own or with only another woman for protection.”

“I-I suppose not,” Gretna said in a small voice.

“And, therefore, when I had found you,” the Marquis went on. “I was going to suggest that you might care to look on me as – your protector.”

There was a moment’s silence and then Gretna replied in a bewildered voice,

“But – I don’t – understand.”

“I think you do,” the Marquis answered. “You are young and quite obviously innocent. Equally you are old enough to know what Lord Wroxhall wants of you.”

The blood came flooding into Gretna’s small face.

“You – mean – ” she faltered and then her voice died away in her throat.

“Exactly,” the Marquis responded drily. “And, although I am hoping that it might seem to you better than just the better of two evils, I am offering to look after you myself.”

“But – but how?” Gretna stuttered.

“The details can be thought out later when we have come to some agreement,” the Marquis carried on with a smile. “Perhaps a house in Chelsea, a carriage of your own or anything else you might fancy. Sufficient to say that no one will insult you when it is known that if they do they must answer to me.”

“A house in Chelsea and a carriage!” Gretna repeated and then suddenly the full impact of what the Marquis was proposing dawned upon her bewildered brain.

“No! No!” she said sharply. “No – of course not!”