“I don’t take instructions from you,” he said sharply as if speaking to a servant. “When I wish to end the fight, this ineffective dandy will lie dead at my feet.”

The Minister gave a little sigh and made as if to step back, but before he could do so or Lord Alvanley could call out “on guard” again, the Prince lunged at Lord Dorrington.

It was a deliberate foul and those watching drew in their breath with horror.

But there was the ring of steel on steel as with a quickness that was amazing Lord Dorrington moved at the precise second that the Prince should have pierced his heart.

“Disgraceful! Disgraceful!” Alyna heard the Prince of Wales mutter.

Then, as the two men crossed swords again, Lord Dorrington, with a quickness and accuracy of eye that was indescribable, thrust at the Prince and ran him through the body just above the heart.

For a moment no one could realise it had happened until slowly the Prince collapsed and fell backwards onto the marble floor.

There was absolutely dead silence.

Then in a calm quiet voice Lord Dorrington said without looking round,

“Will someone go to the assistance of my wife? I think she is about to faint.”

His voice broke the spell that seemed to have held everybody motionless.

“Is His Highness dead?” the Minister asked in quavering tones.

“Not yet,” Lord Dorrington replied. “He will live for two or three hours. I suggest, Your Excellency, that you convey him to your Embassy so that he can die on the soil of his own country.”

Servants hurried forward to lift the fallen man.

“Be careful as you take him through the house,” the Prince of Wales ordered in what he meant to be a low voice, but which was audible to all present. “I don’t want blood on my carpets.”

Chapter Ten

“Is there anything else you need, my Lady?” the maid asked respectfully.

“No, thank you,” Alyna replied.

The maid took a last glance round the bedroom to see if anything had been forgotten and then she left closing the door quietly behind her.

Alyna rose from the dressing table and walked to the fireplace.

She had been cold and shivering when the Duchess of Devonshire had brought her home and her maid, without asking permission, had lit the fire.

She held out her hands towards it, but felt that the flames gave out little heat.

She was still trembling from the horror that she had felt as she had watched Lord Dorrington fight Prince Ahmadi, fearing at any moment that he would be killed.

Even now that she realised what an exceptional swordsman he was, she still felt it was a miracle that he had escaped with his life.

The Prince’s face, contorted with rage, his eyes blind with his desire for revenge and his lust for blood, was a horror that Alyna felt she would never be able to erase from her memory.