“Perhaps you are oversensitive,” the Duke had suggested.

“Nonsense!” his friend replied. “You know as well as I do that Germans are extremely intolerant of any human frailty and the Prince is no exception.”

The Duke knew this was more or less true.

The Prince was a true Coburger at heart. He might be shy and at times ill at ease, but he always behaved with a rigid dignity.

He had many good qualities, but he lacked a sense of humour and, because he was over-serious and very respectable the easy-going aristocrats, who often found their position at Court a bore, disliked him.

Looking round the ballroom the Duke thought that with the beauty of the women and the elegance of the men who wore their clothes and their decorations in an unselfconscious manner, it was England at its best.

Yet he could, because he was extremely intelligent, understand why the Prince could not feel himself a part of it.

He also imparted his feelings to those near him so that it was he who always seemed the outsider in the Trather than the guests he was entertaining.

Quite suddenly the Duke wanted to yawn and go home.

Enough was enough and, although for a short while he could find the Royal presence quite enjoyable, he knew that there were always restrictions behind the laughter.

As far as he was concerned, tonight was not an evening he wished to repeat very often.

Then, as she danced by in the arms of one of the aides-de-camp, Aline Langstone gave him a glance from under her long eyelashes that he could not misinterpret.

For a moment he wondered if it had been perhaps too revealing.

Then, as she turned her lovely face to laugh up at her partner, he was aware that no one would have seen it or if they had, would have understood except himself.

She was certainly very attractive and he was looking forward, as he had earlier in the day, to the weekend when they would be staying in the same house.

He was sure that their hostess would contrive subtly, because she knew it was expected of her, that they should be together as much as possible.

Then he asked himself why he should wait for the weekend when Aline Langstone had already said that she particularly wished to see him tomorrow.

The Duke was sure that it was a mistake, when the Earl was in London, for him to go to their house and yet she had been so insistent that now he felt curious as to what she had to say to him.

Moreover the glance she had just given him told him very clearly how much she wanted him and that the fires he had ignited in her were still blazing.

‘I shall do as she asks,’ the Duke decided.

He walked from the ballroom with a smile on his lips.

*

The following afternoon the Countess of Langstone was waiting in the long L-shaped drawing room at Langstone House in Grosvenor Square,