“I do indeed, Mrs. Merryweather,” Sir Harry assured her. “Well, perhaps you will be gracious enough to confide in Lord Stade before you leave. I shall be consumed with anxiety to hear that the accident has had no serious effect on you, as well as your niece.”

“Get along with you, sir, that’s just an excuse and well you know it,” chuckled Mrs. Merryweather. “Thank you for your help, though. You’ve been kind, I’ll say that for you.”

“That is a recommendation in itself,” Sir Harry laughed as he turned towards the door.

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Julien,” he said. “I’ve a good mind to call you out for it. I shall detest every moment of Harriet’s dinner party and be in such a fit of the sullens that she’ll be incensed with you too when I tell her the reason for it.”

He opened the door and then he looked back at Gretna.

“Au revoir, Miss Gretna,” he said softly. “I am convinced that we shall meet again very soon.”

He departed, slamming the door behind him.

The Marquis reached towards the bell.

“I will enquire how far your coach has progressed. There should be news by this time.”

The door opened again to admit a footman with the tea that had been ordered for Gretna. It was served on a silver tray from a beautifully chased silver teapot and the cup she sipped it from was of such thin china that it was almost transparent.

Gretna’s eyes wandered round the room.

“Oh!” she exclaimed with a little lilt in her voice. “I see you have a Van Dyck and what a beautiful one. Mama always used to say that one could never mistake a Van Dyck because of the hands. How beautifully that man’s hands are painted.”

The Marquis’s eyebrows went up.

“He was one of my ancestors,” he explained. “But I am surprised that you should recognise the artist so readily.”

“Surprised?” Gretna questioned.

Even as she spoke she realised that his surprise was due to the fact that he thought her to be Mrs. Merryweather’s niece and she felt the colour come into her face, as with difficulty she stifled the retort that although she might be poor she had been well educated.

‘He is arrogant and overbearing,’ she thought and suddenly resented the fact that he had sent Sir Harry away when the younger man had wanted so much to stay.

‘I suppose everyone must obey his commands,’ she mused and noticed the disdainful way he took a note from the silver salver that had been brought to him by a footman.

He read the piece of paper through his quizzing glass and then laid it down again on the salver.