She was not thinking of herself. It did not seem to matter at the moment whether the Prince spoke to her or not. All that concerned her was Lord Dorrington.

The Prince had made one attempt upon his life and she knew with a sudden terror rising within her heart, like a snake poising to strike, that he would never rest until he had gained his revenge and Lord Dorrington was dead.

It seemed to her that she was suddenly caught up in a terrible nightmare from which she could not awake.

She watched almost as if in a dream the Prince of Wales taking Prince Ahmadi round his guests and introducing them one by one.

She could hear them talking to the Duchess of Devonshire and saw her Grace’s beautiful face with its vital blue eyes smile in response to something that had been said.

She saw Lord Alvanley being introduced, then Lord Worcester, and realised that the latter was being extremely stiff and that his bow was so slight as to be almost insulting.

Then inevitably the Prince of Wales came to where she was standing beside Lord Dorrington.

“I don’t know, Your Highness,” their host was saying, “whether you have had the pleasure of Lady Dorrington’s acquaintance. She is a bride of only a few days and, like you, is paying her first visit to Carlton House. She has, let me say, been most generous in her praise and appreciation.”

Prince Ahmadi seemed to freeze. His eyes darkened and Alyna knew that he had not expected to meet her.

Then he bowed and she curtseyed not daring to raise her eyes to his face.

“But I think you know my friend, Lord Dorrington,” the Prince of Wales continued. “His horses are remarkable, as I expect like me you have found to your cost!”

”We have met,” Lord Dorrington said before Prince Ahmadi could speak. “I hope Your Highness’s back is no longer painful.”

He drawled the words and Alyna knew with a feeling of horror that he was being deliberately provocative.

Still the Prince did not reply. He merely stood glaring like a man fighting for self-control.

Then, in the same offensive drawl. Lord Dorrington added,

“Of course, if you have not recovered your usual form, I can always repeat the treatment.”

At last the Prince found his voice.

“You are married, my Lord!” he said. “I must congratulate you on being prepared to pick up my leavings.”

There was a moment of ghastly silence. It seemed as if everyone in the conservatory had ceased speaking and was listening.

There was an ugly note in the Prince’s voice and in the way that he almost jeeringly ejaculated the last word.

“I consider that remark an insult,” Lord Dorrington said very slowly.

“And that is what I meant it to be!” the Prince replied. “Do you wish for satisfaction?”

“Naturally,” Lord Dorrington answered.