Her voice was thin and breathless, quite unlike her usual bright and happy prattle.

Algernon turned quite pale. He continued to grip her hand but said nothing for a moment. "Rache!" he said at last. "Don't upset yourself. Of course I am very fond of you. You know that, you little goose. And of course you are safe with me."

"But that is all?" She looked back at him distraught. "There is no understanding between us? It has all been in my imagination? You are not going to offer for me?"

"I don't think this is the time to talk about such a thing, Rache," he said, patting her hand, trying to soothe her. "You are upset about something and of course you turn to me. As you should. We have always been dear friends. But I think perhaps that is all I am to you, Rache. You are very young, and you have had great success this Season. When you have calmed down, I am sure you will find that you wish to be free to choose a husband far more dazzling than I am."

"No," she said. "No, it is not true, Algie. I love you. You are the very dearest person I know. And I am sure I will only ever be happy with you. I will make you happy too. You do love me, don't you?"

"Of course I love you," he said. "You have always been my dearest little Rache. You know that."

"Then marry me," she said, her face suddenly bright and eager again. "Marry me, Algie. Let us not wait any longer. I am nineteen and I have made my come-out. Marry me so that I may be with you all the time and be safe. I will make you happy, Algie. I swear it. It will be my life's work to make you happy. And we will have children. I will give you children."

He looked down into her eager face, his own still pale. "Let us wait just a little while before making anything official," he said. "We will keep all this to ourselves until summer is over and all your guests are gone, shall we? We can decide then what is best to do. In the meantime, you have houseguests to entertain, and you may well be glad of your freedom yet."

"And in the autumn we will be betrothed?" Rachel's face was lit up with happiness. "We will, Algie? And you will speak to Papa? Oh, I am so happy. I do love you so." She stopped in her tracks, flung her arms up around his neck, and hugged him so hard that he thought for one moment that she was trying to strangle him.

"Do have a care, Rache," he said, glancing back in some anxiety to be sure that the other couple was not yet in sight. He put his arms around her and hugged her briefly and comfortingly, his pale face hidden against her shoulder for a moment.

"Kiss me, Algie," she said suddenly, taking him by the lapels of his coat and looking at him with bright and urgent eyes. "Hold me and kiss me. Please."

"I say, Rache," he protested, his hands going to her waist. But he put his mouth to hers and kept it there for a few moments before lifting his head and glancing uneasily back the way they had come.

Mr. Holland and Celia were just appearing over a rise. Rachel waved her hand to them, took Algernon's arm again, and walked on with him. Soon she was talking away happily, much more her usual self again, an uneasy Algernon noticed.

They reached the Red Fox soon after and were regaled by the landlord's gossip until the other two joined them there. And Rachel was determinedly and loudly gay all through tea and then bore off Raymond Holland for the walk back home.

Lord Rivers tucked Celia's arm through his and held it comfortably against his side. "Will you be content with a sedate stroll home, Miss Barnes?" he asked with a smile. "Or would you prefer to stride along so that we may keep up with Rache and Holland?"

"The stroll by all means, my lord," Celia replied, "unless you have an appointment that necessitates our hurrying. Rachel has always been the same ever since I first knew her. She will never walk if it is possible to run. It was a good thing that Mr. Holland and I knew we were to take tea at the Red Fox, or we might have lost the two of you among the hills an hour ago."

Algernon relaxed somewhat as he matched his pace to that of his companion and listened to her quiet and intelligent conversation. Miss Barnes was not a particularly pretty young lady and her company was not especially exciting. But there was something very comfortable about her presence. He was glad of her company at that moment. She was the sort of person with whom one did not have to make any effort at conversation-not because she was dull, but because her conversation was easy and matched his own thoughts so nearly.

"Did you find yourself greatly fatigued yesterday?" he asked abruptly.

"Rather," she said. "We were actually glad of a quiet day at home. I of course took great delight in exploring the house."

"Rache was tired too?" he asked.

She smiled. "It is almost hard to believe, is it not?" she said. "I have never known quite such a bundle of energy as Rachel. But she was quite out of sorts yesterday."

"And today?" he asked.

She hesitated. "You have noticed it too?" she asked. "She seems almost dangerously high-spirited. And yet not happy." She frowned, her own words making no sense to her.

Algernon sighed. "I sometimes think Rache is more nymph than woman," he said. "There is no use in our worrying, Miss Barnes, and wondering what we can do to help her. I daresay she will be herself again by tomorrow."

"Yes," she said, "I do hope so."

"I thought I might ride over tomorrow and escort the two of you into the village to see if we can find David at home," he said casually, watching her from the corner of his eye. He was satisfied to see her color up and drop her eyes before agreeing calmly that that would be very pleasant.

Chapter 6

Oakland looked more festive than Rachel remembered seeing it. There had been formal dinners there before, and even some balls. But there had been nothing on quite such a lavish scale as this. All the neighbors for miles around had been invited, but the big attraction, of course, was the presence at the house of a dozen guests, all freshly arrived from the Season in London. Under the circumstances there was not a single refusal of the invitations sent out. Only a select few had been invited to dinner, but there would be a respectable crowd at the ball, considering the fact that this was not London.

Rachel was delighted by the diversion. First there had been the day of everyone's arrival, her friends and some of Mama's and Papa's. Indeed, Mr. Jeremy Hart had been invited mainly because he was one of Algie's friends. It had been a day full of busy activity and animated conversation. It was amazing what news could accumulate in a week of not seeing one's friends. And the two days since had been no less active. Rachel had had no time at all for any of her usual activities in the country. She had had almost no time to herself and certainly no time to visit any of her friends among Papa's tenants. In fact, she had not seen any of them since before her journey to London.

Inevitably, though, there were the moments when she was alone. One had to retire to one's dressing room to change one's clothes at certain hours of the day, and one could not always take someone else with one. One had to retire to bed at some time during the night, and sleep could not always be relied upon to come as soon as one laid one's head on the pillow. In fact it rarely did so.

She tried to fill her mind with deliberate thoughts. She thought of Algie and how she loved him and felt comfortable with him. She thought of how they would be betrothed in the autumn and perhaps marry before the year ended. She thought about how she would have to remove only as far as Singleton Hall. It would be like living at home for the rest of her life.

She was very happy. So happy, in fact, that she had been unable to keep her feelings entirely to herself. She had told Celia that Algie was to make her a formal offer once the summer was over and that she was going to accept. She had told Celia that she loved him, a pointless announcement, of course. That truth must have been obvious to Celia since the beginning of the Season. Celia had been delighted. She had hugged and kissed her and promised to return to Oakland for the wedding, probably near Christmas.

And Rachel's thoughts frequently concentrated on Celia. Happily settled herself, she wanted her friend to be as fortunate. It was a shame that Celia was such a quiet girl. Very few people took the trouble to get to know her, and consequently few people knew what a very beautiful person Celia was. Rachel had hoped that her friend would attach some gentleman's interest during the Season, but there had been only Mr. Paige, who was doubtless too attached to his mother to pluck up the courage to offer for a wife. Rachel had been relieved that he did not offer.

There were possibilities among the houseguests. There was Sir Herbert Fanshawe, for example. And Mr. Hart was worth considering, for all that he was rather bookish and was reputed not to be able to see a hand in front of his face when he was not wearing his gold-rimmed spectacles. Rachel intended to see to it that these gentlemen had a chance to see Celia as she really was.

Mama had said on more than one occasion that David Gower was likely to become Celia's suitor. And so he succeeded in slipping into Rachel's thoughts after all. She could not keep him out. Indeed, no matter how busy she kept herself during the daytime or how fast she talked or how gaily she laughed, he was there all the time. And no matter how full of important matters she kept her thoughts when she was alone, no matter how careful the defenses she erected, he was there anyway. She carried David Gower around in her thoughts and in her feelings as surely as she carried around her own heart.