She looked up at him a little uncertainly. Their repartee had been so quick and so spontaneous, that she could not make up her mind for the moment whether he was being wholly serious or laughing at her.

As if he guessed her perplexity, he put out his hand and touched hers lightly as it lay on the banister.

“Believe me, I am speaking for your own good.”

“Which means that anything more you have to say will certainly be unpleasant,” Carina replied. “When my Nanny said that, it nearly always meant I was going to get a smack.”

“Personally, I doubt if she smacked you hard enough,” Lord Lynche added and there was no doubt now that there was a smile not only on his lips but in his eyes.

There came a moment of silence between them that seemed to be poignant with meaning – and yet what meaning Carina had no idea.

“Who are you? Tell me about yourself?”

His voice, low and deep, seemed to startle her as nothing he had said before had done.

She moved away from him quickly.

“We were going to Mrs. Barnstaple,” she said and her voice was cold and distant. “I need a thermometer for Dipa. He seems a little feverish.”

“I am sorry to have delayed you,” Lord Lynche replied formally.

He led the way down a passage, which Carina guessed led back to the centre of The Castle.

Lord Lynche stopped at the bottom of the narrow staircase and said,

“Mrs. Barnstaple’s apartment is at the top of this stairway.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Carina answered.

He gave her a slight bow and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he had tried to be kind and she had snubbed his efforts. But there was no time for introspection. She lifted her skirts with one hand and ran up the staircase, finding, as Lord Lynche had directed, Mrs. Barnstaple’s room was directly opposite the head of the stairs.

The door was open and Mrs. Barnstaple was scolding one of the housemaids. She looked up in surprise when she saw Carina in the doorway.

“Oh, Miss Warner,” she exclaimed, “I had not expected to see you!”

“I came to ask if you have a thermometer,” Carina said breathlessly as the housemaid slipped past her, glad to get off so lightly.

“Yes, I am sure I have,” Mrs. Barnstaple answered. “Are you feeling ill?”

“Oh no, it’s not for me, it’s for D – it’s for the little Prince. He seems rather flushed and I think he may have caught a slight chill this morning in the garden. It was colder than I thought.”

“More likely he ate too much luncheon,” Mrs. Barnstaple said. “I never did think those big luncheons were good for children.”

From the expression on her face, Carina guessed that for some reason she disapproved of their having lunched in the dining room.