She wanted to run to him and tear him away from that blonde harpy. She wanted to cry to him that she was lonely and hurt and lost, that she had made a terrible mistake, that Webb and Miss Snapper were bullying the life out of her.

But the heartless ghost philandered on, and at last Alice could bear it no longer and begged to be allowed to retire.

Miss Snapper and Lord Harold cheerfully agreed. There would be no confrontation with Alice’s uncle that night.

When Miss Snapper had seen Alice safely to her room, she descended the stair to the ballroom where she found Webb awaiting her.

“I think, my dear Miss Snapper,” said Webb in measured tones, “that we must plan. Come with me!”

Her hurt at the Duke’s snub abating under the interest of this newfound intrigue, Miss Snapper eagerly followed him.

He led her into a small anteroom and closed the door. The faint strains of a lilting Scottish reel filtered faintly into the quiet room.

“I do not think, Miss Snapper,” said Webb pompously, “that our little Alice will be able to refrain from telling her uncle that we have been… hem… a trifle rough with her. It was all for her own good but he may not see it that way and may forbid the marriage.”

“He cannot,” said Miss Snapper eagerly. “Alice told me he had left her papers allowing her to marry whom she chooses.”

“Well, she may use his support to cancel the engagement. Alice has not been happy of late,” said Webb. He spoke the truth. His daily hectoring criticism had reduced Alice to a quaking wreck. But Webb found Alice, shaking and frightened, infinitely exciting and did not want her any other way.

Miss Snapper lowered her eyes. “It could be, mayhap, that he might find it necessary to give his blessing to the marriage…”

“You mean?… She will not allow me intimacies and it did not seem to me necessary to press my suit since we are shortly to be wed.”

Miss Snapper fidgeted with the lace of her mitten. “There are ways it could be achieved.”

The reel finished with a crashing chord and the faint murmur of voices permeated the room and Lord Harold looked down at the companion with an unpleasant smile on his face.

“You hate her, don’t you?” he said.

Miss Snapper raised her black eyes to the ceiling. “As God is my witness, my lord, I have only the girl’s best interests at heart.”

“Oh, whatever way you want it,” he sneered. “How is this seduction to be achieved without her screaming the place down?”

“I never said…”

“Oh, yes you did in your own sweet way. Stow the hypocrisy.”

Miss Snapper cast down her eyes again. Her hand flew nervously to the jewels at her neck. She had been feathering her nest very well and unless she quickly swallowed her pride, then Alice might escape.