“She will find plenty to do, I imagine. She will have first to learn what is expected of Lady Rotherham, which is likely to keep her pretty fully occupied for some months. She will hunt, of course—”

“Hunt?” cried Emily. “Oh, no, please! I never do so!”

“You will,” he said.

“J-jump over those dreadful fences you showed me?” Emily said, horror in her voice. “I couldn’t!”

“We shall see!”

“Well, if ever I heard anything to equal it!” gasped Mrs Floore. “First, she’s to learn a lot of lessons, and next she’s to be made to break her neck!”

“Oh, she won’t break her neck!” said Rotherham. “A few tumbles won’t hurt her! I shall have some fairly easy jumps put up, and school her over them.”

“No!” almost shrieked Emily. “I won’t, I won’t!”

“No more you shall, lovey!” hotly declared Mrs Floore.

“It will be as well, Emily, if you realize that when you are Lady Rotherham I shall expect obedience from you. I warn you, it will not do if you say “I won’t” to me.”

Mr Goring, who had been seated rather in the background, got up, and said in his level tone: “We’ve heard a great deal of what you expect, and what you like, my lord, but we haven’t yet heard you ask Miss Laleham what she would like!”

“She’ll learn to like what I like—if she’s wise! I did not choose a bride out of the schoolroom, sir, to have her setting up her will against mine!”

Mr Goring’s jaw was becoming momentarily more aggressive. “It seems to me. Lord Rotherham, that what you want is a slave, not a wife!”

Mrs Floore, unable to contain herself another instant, said forcefully: “And he’s not getting a slave in my Emma! Why, the man’s a downright monster! A fine husband you caught for Emma, Sukey! I wonder you aren’t ashamed to look me in the face! If I didn’t say to Lady Serena that it wouldn’t matter to you if a man was cross-eyed, and had one foot in the grave! Not so long as he was a Duke, which is all you care for! And this Choctaw Indian here isn’t even a Duke!”

There was the faintest tremor at the corners of Rotherham’s mouth, but it went unnoticed. Lady Laleham said: “I cannot believe that Lord Rotherham means all he says! I am sure he means to make Emily very happy!”

“Certainly,” said Rotherham, bored. “She has only to adapt herself to my wishes, and I see no reason why she should not be perfectly happy.”

Suddenly Emily sprang up, and fled to her grandmother’s chair. “I can’t, I can’t! I don’t care if I am ruined! I can’t! Oh, Grandmama, don’t let Mama make me!”

“Emily!” There was a red spot on each of Lady Laleham’s cheeks. “How dare you say such a thing? As though I should dream—”

“You keep your distance, Sukey!” commanded Mrs Floore.

Mr Goring, stepping up to Rotherham, his chin now well out-thrust, said: “Perhaps your lordship will do me the favour of stepping outside for a few minutes!”

“No, you fool!” said Rotherham, very softly.

“Emily, think what you are doing!” Lady Laleham was saying urgently. “You’ll never get a husband, if you play the jilt! Particularly after your folly today! The whole world will think it was you who were jilted! You’ll have to stay at home, for I shan’t take you to town again, and you’ll end your days an old maid—”

“You’re wrong, ma’am!” said Mr Goring. “There’s time and to spare before she need think of being married, but you needn’t fear she won’t get another offer, because I can tell you that she will!”

“You can lay your life she will!” said Mrs Floore. “Now, don’t you cry, my pretty, because your ma isn’t going to make you do anything!”

“What shall I do?” sobbed Emily. “I don’t w-want to go home in d-disgrace, and I don’t w-want to have n-no reputation!”

“Emma, would you like to stay with your old grandma? Now, think, lovey! It ain’t very lively, living here, and nothing but the Assemblies, and the Sydney Gardens, and if it’s the ton parties you want, I can’t give them to you, because if I was to take you to London I couldn’t chaperon you, my pet, because there’s no getting round it, I’m not a fine lady, and I never will be! Myself, I think you’d be a deal happier if you was to forget all these Marquises and things, but it’s for you to say.”

“Live with you always?” Emily cried, lifting a flushed, tear-stained face from Mrs Floore’s lap. “Oh, Grandmama!”

“Bless you, my precious!” said Mrs Floore, giving her a smacking kiss.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” demanded Lady Laleham. “I’ll have you know Emily is my daughter, Mama!”

“And I’ll have you know, Sukey, that if I have one more word out of you, you can pay your own bills from now on, and so can Sir Walter!”

There was a pregnant silence. Mrs Floore patted Emily’s shoulder. “You dry your eyes, love, and give the Marquis back his ring!”

“When you see your sisters all married before you, I hope you will remember this day, Emily!” said Lady Laleham. “For my part, I wash my hands of you!”

“And a very good thing too,” commented Mrs Floore. “Go on, love! The sooner we’re rid of this Marquis of yours the sooner we can have our dinner, which I’m sure we all need!”

The door shut with a slam behind Lady Laleham. Emily shyly held out the ring to Rotherham. “If you please—I beg your pardon, but—we should not suit!”

“Thank you,” he said, taking the ring. “You have no need to beg my pardon: I will beg yours instead. The truth is that we both made a mistake. I wish you extremely happy, and I feel sure you will be—but Mr Goring is quite right: there’s plenty of time before you need think of marriage. As for your reputation, and your sisters, and all the rest of that nonsense, you needn’t regard it!” He glanced at the ring in his hand, and said: “I think you had better keep this—but wear it on another finger!”

“Oh, thank you!” gasped Emily naively.

He turned from her, to confront Mrs Floore, who had heaved herself up out of her chair, and was eyeing him with sharp suspicion. He grinned at her. “Don’t worry, ma’am! All that you would like to say to me, and a great deal more, has already been hurled at my head, and I fancy there is more to come. I am delighted to have made your acquaintance, and I trust that—next year, perhaps—I shall have the pleasure of entertaining you, and Emily, of course, at Rotherham House! By the way, don’t send a notice to the papers! I shall be sending one that will obviate the necessity, and will convince the world that I have treated Emily abominably—which, I own, I have!”

“So that’s it, is it?” said Mrs Floore. “Of all the impudence! Well, I’m sorry for her, that’s all! And I hope with all my heart that she’ll lead you such a dance as will put you in your place once and for all!”

“She will do her best. Pay me a visit when you come to town, Goring, and we’ll put the gloves on. You shall tell me, too, how you enjoyed taking care of Lady Serena: you had my sympathy!”

A brief bow, and he was gone. Half an hour later, he was being admitted to the house in Laura Place by Fanny’s footman. He found the butler in the drawing-room, engaged in lighting the candles in the wall-sconces. “Masterly, Lybster!” he said. “Go and tell the Lady Serena that although you did not let me in I am nevertheless here, and should like to see her immediately!”

“Her ladyship, my lord,” said Lybster, with an apologetic cough, “informed me that if your lordship should happen to cross the threshold, she would partake of dinner in her bedchamber.”

“Did she, by God? Go and tell her ladyship that if she does not come down to me, I shall go up to her!”

“Yes, my lord—if your lordship insists!” said Lybster, and departed.

He did not return, but within five minutes Serena swept into the room, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes far too fierce to suit the dove-grey gown she was wearing. “How—dare—you send me insolent messages by my own servants?” she demanded.

“I thought that would fetch you down,” he remarked, walking forward.

“Yes, and you will be shortly extremely sorry that it did! If you think, Ivo—”

This speech ended abruptly. Not only was she roughly jerked into Rotherham’s arms, but her mouth was crushed under his. For a moment or two, she strained every muscle to break free, and then, quite suddenly, the fight went out of her, and she seemed to melt into his embrace. It tightened ruthlessly, and only relaxed sufficiently to allow her to get her breath when Rotherham at last raised his head, and looked down into her eyes.

“Well, you beautiful, bad-tempered thorn in my flesh! Well? Have you done scolding yet?”

She lay against his arm, her head flung back on his shoulder, her eyes glinting at him under their curved lids. “Detestable creature! Mannerless, conscienceless, overbearing, selfish, arrogant—oh, how much I dislike you!” she sighed. “And how much you dislike me! I’d as lief be mauled by a tiger! You’re mad, too. Never were you more thankful to be rid of anything than of me! Own it! All these years—!”

“Never!” he assented fervently. “I swore then that never again would I put it in your power to drive me to the brink of insanity with your obstinate, headstrong, willful, intolerable conduct! But it’s no use, Serena! don’t you know that? I thought I had torn you out of my heart—I thought you were nothing to me but an old friend’s daughter—until—What made you do it, Serena? What crazy folly made you do it?”

The smile vanished from her eyes. “O God, I don’t know! I meant it, Ivo! When I saw him again—oh, I felt I was a girl—a nineteen-year-old! Perhaps it was because I was so lonely, perhaps because he still loved me so much, thought me a goddess, flattered me—oh, Ivo, worshipped me as you never did, I’ll swear!”