“Now, listen, dearie! You don’t know anythin’ about life, livin’ that quiet with your mother, hardly seein’ a soul since she’s been ill. You’re grown up now, you’re seventeen, but there’s a lot for you to learn and the first lesson is don’t trust no gentleman, not of the type of these two at any rate.”

“Why, what is wrong with them?” Gretna asked wonderingly.

“Well, it seems to me that I’ve heard of this Marquis,” Mrs. Merryweather answered, her brow wrinkling as if in the effort to remember. “And what I’ve heard ain’t much to his credit either. And as for the other, Sir Harry whatever he calls himself, I know his type right enough. Out for a bit of fun whoever pays for it and every pretty girl be fair game.”

Gretna gave a little laugh of sheer amusement.

“Oh, Mrs. Merryweather, you are funny! I don’t believe they are half as bad as you are painting them. They seem to me very kind, although I must admit that the Marquis seemed rather frightening and was not over-anxious to offer us his hospitality. I think Sir Harry forced him into it.”

She gave a little sigh.

“At any rate it’s only for a few hours. I cannot come to any harm in that time.”

“Don’t you be too sure,” Mrs. Merryweather warned her darkly. “I could tell you some tales. You can’t trust these young sparks.”

“Well, with you to protect me I shall be absolutely safe, as if I was sitting at home in my own little cottage,” Gretna said soothingly. “But do tell me what you know about Lord Stade.”

Mrs. Merryweather was about to reply when the door opened and two chambermaids wearing crisp mobcaps came hurrying in with jugs of hot water. They poured them into two basins standing on the marble washstand, added rosewater and laid ready two soft linen towels edged with lace.

“Thank you so much,” Gretna said to them gratefully.

“Is there anything else you want, miss?” one of the chambermaids asked. “There are clean brushes and combs on the dressing table.”

“That is all I require, thank you,” Gretna replied.

She took off her bonnet and washed her face and hands, feeling fresher as the dust of the journey was removed by the scented water. The towel was deliciously soft and, when she had dried her face, she walked across to the dressing table to comb her fair curls into some semblance of order.

“We never thought, when we set off this morning, that we should end up in a house like this, did we, Mrs. Merryweather?” she asked. “It’s a real adventure!”

“The sort I, for one, don’t appreciate,” Mrs. Merryweather replied. “I want to get you to London safe and sound and the sooner the better says I. This sort of thing ain’t goin’ to do us no good.”