“Oh, it’s I who should have called on you, madame,” protested Amber politely, trying to count up in her head the number of pounds sterling she saw represented in Lady Stanhope’s ensemble; and the higher the total mounted the angrier she became. But she smiled and asked her to be seated while she finished her toilet and then, as Lady Stanhope caught sight of a length of blue velvet, Amber quickly told the tradespeople that it was time for them to go.

“Come to my apartments tomorrow morning,” said Lucilla with a wave of her hand, and the man took up his velvet and left with the others.

Amber sat down to stick on her patches while Lucilla panted, obviously uncomfortable in her too-tight corset. “Heavens!” said her Ladyship, crossing her small feet and cocking her head on one side to admire them. “You wouldn’t believe how taken up with business I’ve been this fortnight! I’ve a great acquaintance here in town, you know, and everyone must see me at once! Provoking creatures! I’ve been most horribly towsed.” She put one hand to her head, preening. “I’ve scarcely seen Gerry at all. Pray tell me, how has my dear boy been?”

“Very well, I think, madame,” replied Amber, too angry over the thought of her hard-gotten money going to decorate this old woman to be able to pay much attention to what was being said.

Now she got up, crossed the room and went behind a magnificent blue-lacquered Chinese screen, beckoning one of the women to bring her gown. Monsieur le Chien was nosing curiously about Lucilla’s shoes and yapping from time to time, not at all intimidated by the sharp looks she gave him. Only Amber’s head and shoulders could be seen now and while she was not looking Lucilla’s eyes studied her, slightly narrowed, hard and critical and disapproving. But as Amber glanced suddenly across at her she smiled, a quick and guilty smile.

“It’s strange I never see Gerry in the mornings. At home he always called on me each day before he did anything else. He’s always been the most devoted child a mother could want. He must go abroad very early.” She spoke rapidly, looking at Amber as though she expected her to lie.

“Why, as far as I remember,” said Amber, sucking in her stomach while the maid jerked tighter the strings of her busk, “he hasn’t been here at all since the day you arrived.”

“What!” cried Lady Stanhope, as horrified as though she had heard that her son was under arrest for picking pockets. “Doesn’t he sleep with you!”

“Tighter,” muttered Amber to the maid. “It’s got to be tighter.” Her waist was growing larger but she intended to lace it in just as long as she could. Far more than the agony of labour she hated the months of being misshapen, and this time more than ever, for Bruce was here and she wanted desperately to look her best. Then she replied, casually, “Oh, yes. He has.” He had, in fact, just three times, and Amber had permitted that only because the King hoped to make him think that the child was his own.

“Well!” Lady Stanhope fanned herself harder than ever and her face flushed, as it always did at the slightest hint of nervousness or embarrassment or anger. “I never heard of such a thing! A man not sleeping with his wife! It’s—Why, it’s immoral! I’ll take a course with him about this, my dear! I’ll see he doesn’t neglect you any more!”

Amber gave her an amused lazy smile over the top of the screen and bent slightly, stepping into first one petticoat and then another. “Don’t trouble yourself, madame. His Lordship and I like the arrangement as it is. The young men have a great deal of business nowadays, you know—going to theatres and taverns, drinking till midnight and scouring about the streets afterward. It keeps ’em well occupied, I assure you.”

“Oh, but Gerry doesn’t live that kind of life, I’m sure of it! He’s a good quiet boy, you may believe me, madame. If he doesn’t come here it must be he’s of the opinion he isn’t wanted!”

Amber swung about and looked directly at her mother-in-law, her eyes cool and with a malicious slant at the corners. “I’m sure I can’t think where he could have got such a notion as that, madame. What’s o’clock, Nan?”

“Almost half-after-twelve, your Ladyship.”

“Oh, Lord!” Amber stepped out from behind the screen, fully dressed now, and a maid handed her her fan and muff while another came to set the cloak on her shoulders. She picked up her gloves and began pulling them on. “I have a sitting with Mr. Lely at one! I must beg to be excused, madame. Mr. Lely is so furiously in demand he cannot stay a moment for anyone. If I’m late I’ll lose my turn and he has the portrait half done.”

Lady Stanhope got to her feet. “I was just going abroad myself. I’m engaged to dine with Lady Clifford and then we’re going to the play. One never has a moment to oneself in town.” The two countesses started out of the room, walking side by side, followed by Nan and Tansy and Monsieur le Chien. Lucilla gave Amber an arch sidewise glance. “I suppose you knew that Lord Carlton is a guest in the house?”

Amber looked at her sharply. What did she mean by that? Was it possible she had heard gossip about them? But they’d been very discreet—always entering and leaving by their own doors, paying each other no undue attentions in public. Her heart hammering hard, Amber tried to give her an off-hand answer.

“Oh, yes. I know. He’s an old friend of the Earl.”

“I think he’s fascinating! They say every woman at Court is mad in love with him! And have you heard? They say he’s one of my Lady Castlemaine’s lovers—but of course they say that about everyone.” She rambled on, for she always talked as if she had more to say than time would allow, but Amber was conscious only of relief. Evidently she knew nothing—she just wanted to prattle. “But to think of the venturesome life he’s led—soldier-of-fortune, privateer, and now a planter! I’ve heard he’s one of the richest men in England—and of course his family’s most distinguished. It was Marjorie Bruce, you know, who was the mother of the first Stuart King of Scotland, and that’s his family. And his wife, they say, is a great beauty—”

“Everyone’s a great beauty with a portion of ten thousand pound!” snapped Amber.

“Well,” said Lucilla. “He’s a fine person, I vow and swear. He’s everything in the world that I admire.”

Amber bowed to her. “Good-day, madame.”

She walked off, down the stairs, seething inside, furious and hurt. Oh, I can’t stand it! she thought wildly. I can’t stand knowing he’s married to that woman! I hate her, I hate her, I hate her! I hope she dies! Suddenly she stopped, catching her breath. Maybe she will. She began to walk on, her eyes glowing. Maybe she will die, over there with all those sicknesses—maybe she will—She had completely forgotten her grievance against the Baroness for spending her money.

The next night she and Bruce came home from Whitehall together. He had completed the most urgent part of his business and was beginning to go there in the evenings to gamble and talk. They climbed the stairs, laughing over the current story that Buckingham, still in hiding, had been arrested for rioting in the streets and locked up and then released again without being recognized. Outside her rooms they parted.

“Don’t be long, darling,” she whispered.

She came into her own drawing-room still smiling, but the smile froze unpleasantly as she found Gerald and his mother sitting there, before her fireplace.

“Well!” She swung the door shut.

Gerald got to his feet. He looked wretchedly unhappy and Amber knew that coming here had not been his idea. The Dowager Baroness gave her a languid look over her bare shoulder, then stood up and made just the suggestion of a curtsy. Amber did not return it, but she came on into the room, glancing from one to the other.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” she said to Gerald, who immediately cleared his throat and stuck a finger into the high close-fitting cravat about his neck. He tried to smile, but nervousness made his face break into little pieces.

“I just came to talk to Gerry while he was waiting for you to return,” interposed his mother hastily. “I’ll be going along now and leave you two young people together. Your servant, madame. Good-night, Gerry dear.” As Gerald obediently kissed his mother’s cheek Amber saw her give him an admonitory but encouraging pat on the arm.

With a triumphant flaunting little smile she left the room, her long train swishing after her, making a definite sound in the stillness, and all at once a clock began to chime. Amber did not watch her go but kept her eyes on Gerald, and as she heard the door close she tossed her muff and gloves to Tansy and waved him off. Monsieur le Chien was prancing and barking at Gerald, for he had seen him but seldom and was not sure he belonged there.

“Well,” repeated Amber again, and walked to the fire to warm her hands.

“Eh bien, madame,” said Gerald. “Here I am. And after all” —suddenly he straightened his shoulders and faced her defiantly —“why shouldn’t I be here? I’m your husband, madame.” It sounded like what Mother had told him to say.

“Of course,” agreed Amber. “Why shouldn’t you?” Then all at once she put one hand to her stomach and, with a little groan, dropped onto the settee.

Gerald started. “Good God, madame! What is it? Is something amiss with you?” He turned and would have run out. “I’ll fetch someone—”

But Amber stopped him. “No, Gerald. It’s nothing. It’s just that I’m with child, I think—I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for sure—”

He looked delighted, amazed, as though this had happened to no man before him. “Already? My God! I can’t believe it! But; Lord! I hope it’s true!” She had surprised him out of all his airs and French grimaces; he was merely a frightened pleased English country boy.