“Yes, of course, and I am so glad we are driving like this and not in a closed carriage.”

“It is something I find intolerable at any time,” the Duke replied. “The only thing that could have prevented us from reaching London as quickly as we shall do now is if it had been pouring with rain.”

“Then I am very glad it’s such a lovely day,” Honora said, “and your horses are superb.”

“They are a team I bought six months ago,” the Duke replied. “They were expensive, but worth every penny I paid for them!”

“I am sure they are.”

They drove on in silence and now she told herself that her fears were groundless. The Duke was treating her casually and not as if she was a bride.

She found when they arrived at Tynemouth House in Park Lane that the staff were lined up to greet them and, after Honora had shaken hands with everybody from the butler to the lowest kitchen boy, the Duke said,

“Would you like a glass of champagne or would you prefer to go straight to your room?”

“I would like to go to my room,” Honora answered him.

She felt that he was relieved at her decision and the housekeeper, looking very much like Mrs. Morton in rustling black silk, escorted her up the stairs.

Her room was very impressive with a huge four-poster bed, carved and gilded and with curtains of blue silk.

“This has always been the Duchess’s room,” the housekeeper explained.

“It is very lovely!” Honora answered. “Will you tell me your name?”

“I’m Mrs. Barnes and I hope Your Grace’ll be comfortable. Beatrice, one of the maids here’ll look after you until Your Grace’s lady’s maid arrives.”

“I am afraid that will not be for some time, because I don’t believe any horses could travel as fast as His Grace’s!”

“I’m sure you are right, Your Grace, and you needn’t worry about your gowns as quite a number came here direct from Bond Street.”

Mrs. Barnes opened a wardrobe door as she spoke and Honora saw that a dozen of the gowns that her aunt had ordered for her trousseau had been sent direct to Tynemouth House.

She had a bath and afterwards put on a very elegant gown that was not unlike the one in which she had been married.

Because Mrs. Barnes expected her to wear white as a bride, she did not argue, but allowed herself to be helped into a gown made entirely of lace and ornamented with small bunches of white roses.

“I suppose, Your Grace, your maid will know which of these gowns to take with you on your honeymoon tomorrow?” Mrs. Barnes said.

“H-honeymoon?” Honora repeated. “Are we leaving tomorrow?”

“I understood that was His Grace’s intention and that you’re going to his hunting lodge in Leicestershire.”

Mrs. Barnes smiled before she added,

“It’s a very attractive house, Your Grace, and you’ll be very comfortable there. The gardens are nearly as beautiful there as they are at The Castle.”