“I wanted no one to know,” she replied. “My old Governess, who is now retired, lent me both her name and her references. That is how I obtained the position with – ”

She had been about to say ‘your wife’ and then she knew that the words could not be spoken because of the pain they must bring her.

It was not only the fact that he was married, but that he had behaved so badly and so heartlessly and, as she had thought when she had first met him, so despicably.

She closed her eyes for a moment, holding on to the mantelpiece.

Could it be true what she felt just now? Could that sudden fire that had burned through her whole body really be love – or something else, something she could not explain?

“Carina – ”

She heard him speak her name and knew that it left her a little breathless. She had no idea that her name could sound so different, and yet so entrancing, on a man’s lips.

She turned her face away from him, gazing down to the fire.

“What is it?” she asked.

Lord Lynche did not answer and after a moment, because she could not bear the silence, she raised her head and looked at him.

And then she found herself held spellbound by what she saw in his face.

“I love you,” he said quietly. “You know that, don’t you?”

“No – ” she answered, her voice so low that it could scarcely pass through her lips, “– no, I did not know.”

“I have loved you,” he said, “I think from that first moment when I saw you standing in the hall, your little face so white and anxious, your eyes so condemning, so contemptuous of me.”

“No, it was not really like that,” she said quickly and knew that she lied.

“Do not let us pretend,” Lord Lynche said softly, “not at this moment, not when – ”

Carina put up her hands suddenly.

“ – I may be taken away to prison,” she finished. “I am not afraid. I think I shall be glad to go. I know now that I wanted to kill him not only for what he did to my father but for what he would have done to you too.”

“Oh, my darling, do I matter at all?” Lord Lynche cried.

He came one step nearer and now Carina had to throw back her head to look up at him. She felt the nearness of him. He had only to put out his arm, or she her hand, and they would touch each other.

She tried to think clearly and tried to ask herself whether it was right or wrong, but it was impossible.

She could only feel with the intense throbbing of every nerve in her body that she loved him – loved him whatever he was, whatever he was like.

Now it was too late.