“But you’re not like them, Bruce!” she protested. “You’re not like these men here at Court!”

“Oh, I haven’t got their superficial tricks. I don’t paint my eyebrows or comb my wig in public or play with ladies’ fans. But—Well, to tell the truth the age is a little sick, and all of us who live in it have caught the sickness too.”

“But surely I live in it?”

“No, you don’t!” He released her. “You’re no part of this shabby world. And thank God you’re not!”

“Thank God? But why? Don’t you like these people? I thought they were your friends. I’ve wished I could be more like them —the ladies, I mean.” Now she was thinking of the Duchess of Ravenspur.

His mouth gave a bitter twist at that. “Corinna, my darling, where can you have got such a foolish idea? Don’t ever dare think of it again. Oh, Corinna, you can’t know how glad I am that I saw you that day in Port Royal—”

Suddenly her fears and jealousies were gone. A great and wonderful sense of relief swept through her, washing out the hatred, the poison of mistrust that had been festering there.

“Are you glad, darling? Oh, I remember it so well!”

“So do I. You were on your way to church. And you were wearing a black-lace gown with a black veil over your hair and roses pinned in it. I thought you were Spanish.”

“And my father thought you were a buccaneer!” She threw back her head and laughed joyously, safe back there in those happy days when no slant-eyed minx with the title of “duchess” had existed to try to take him from her. “He was going to send you a challenge!”

“No wonder. I must have been a disreputable looking fellow. I hadn’t got ashore half-an-hour before. Remember—I followed you into church—”

“And stared at me all through the service! Oh, how furious father was! But I didn’t care—I was in love with you already!”

“Dirty clothes, five-day beard, and all?”

“Dirty clothes, five-day beard, and all! But when you came to call that night—oh, Bruce, you can’t imagine how you looked to me! Like all the princes out of every fairy-tale I’ve ever read!”

She looked up at him, her eyes illumined like stained-glass in a chapel. Suddenly his own eyes closed, as if to shut out the sight of something that troubled him, but at the same time his arms drew her close and his head bent to kiss her. Oh, you’ve been a fool! Corinna told herself. Of course he loves you—and of course he’s faithful! I’d see it when he looked at me, I’d feel it when he touched me, if he weren’t.

And yet, the next time she saw the Duchess of Ravenspur, her resentment was stronger than ever. For the woman looked at her, she knew it, with a kind of sliding contempt, a sort of secret sneer, as though she had an advantage over her. Her Grace seemed, however, more friendly than she had at first, and she always spoke to Corinna pleasantly.

But at last Corinna felt that she could bear this uncertainty, these jealous suspicions of hers no longer. And finally, as if in the hope that she could exorcise the demon by speaking its name, she determined to talk to Bruce, as casually as she could, about the Duchess—though it had been some time since she had been able to hear the woman’s name without wincing inside. They were coming home one night from the Palace when she forced herself to begin the conversation. She had known for a long time what she would say and had repeated the sentence over so many times that the words seemed to come out flat and stilted.

“How lovely the Duchess of Ravenspur looked tonight. I do think she’s more beautiful than my Lady Castlemaine—don’t you?” Her heart was pounding so that she could scarcely hear her own voice and her hands, clenched tight inside her muff, felt wet and cold.

Horsemen rode beside the coach and the torches they carried threw a bright unsteady light in upon them, but Corinna looked straight ahead. It seemed to her that he hesitated a long while before answering and those few seconds passed in torture. I should never have said it! she thought miserably. The sound of her name means something to him—something I don’t want to know about. I wish I had kept quiet–

Then she heard him say, with no more emotion in his voice than if it were some comment upon the weather: “Yes, I think she is.”

She felt a kind of sudden relief and now she said, almost gayly: “She flirts furiously with you. I suppose I should be jealous of her.”

Bruce looked at her and smiled faintly, but made no reply.

But Corinna was determined not to stop now that she had made the break. “Is it true she was once an actress? Or is that only gossip? The other women don’t seem to like her. They say terrible things about her—of course, they’re probably jealous,” she added hastily.

“Do women ever like one another? Not very often, I think. But it’s true she was an actress—several years ago.”

“Then she isn’t of quality?”

“No. Her people were yeomen farmers.”

“But how did she come by her fortune and title?”

“The only way a woman can come by such things if she isn’t born to them. Somehow she contrived to marry a rich old merchant, and when he died she inherited a third of his money. With that she bought a title—another old man. He’s dead too.”

“She’s married now, though, isn’t she? But where’s her husband? I’ve never seen him.”

“Oh, he comes to Court sometimes. I don’t think they’re very well acquainted.”

“Not very well acquainted! With her own husband!” Genuinely astonished at that, Corinna forgot her own wretched feeling of nervous tightness. “What did she marry him for, then?”

“To get a name for the King’s bastard, I think.”

“Oh, heaven! I feel as though I’m in a strange new world here! Everything seems to be turned upside down!”

“It is upside down—unless you’re standing on your head with the rest of them. You’ll be glad to get home again, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes!” Then, regretting her too hasty enthusiasm, she added, “But only because I miss Summerhill—and everything it means to us.” She turned her head to look up at him, and he was so close their lips brushed and then his mouth pressed down upon hers.


A few days later Corinna went with her waiting-woman to make some small purchases at the New Exchange. The Exchange, located far out on Thames Street, was a great blackened stone building with a double gallery on two separate floors. Each tiny shop had its own sign that hung so low that anyone of more than usual height must duck or dodge to avoid striking his head. The shopkeepers were for the most part attractive well-dressed girls—though there were a few young men—who kept daily court for their admirers. It was the most fashionable lounging-place and rendezvous of the town, much frequented by beaus waiting to meet some masked lady who had a father or husband to outwit. Pretty young women came there too, flirtation-bent—but always pretending to be very pert and disdainful when first approached.

With her woman Corinna mounted the staircase and strolled along the gallery. Stares and low whistles and audible comments followed her, for many of the fine ladies would rally with the gallants, bandying barbed compliments and insults sweetened with a smile. Corinna, however, had not caught this London habit either and she paid them no attention.

At last she paused before the booth of a pretty little woman, Mrs. Sheldon, who had been temporary mistress to several great men but was just now without a keeper.

“Good-day to you, Lady Carlton!” she cried pleasantly. “I didn’t know you were with his Lordship this morning.”

“Oh. Is my husband here?”

She turned, glancing around, and as if she had known exactly where to find him she looked across into the opposite corridor and saw him standing with his back to her, evidently talking to someone who was hidden by his size and bulk. Impulsively she started forward, intending to go around and surprise him, but just at that moment he stepped aside to let someone pass. She saw then that he was talking to the Duchess of Ravenspur.

Horrified, she stopped.

Could he have met her there by accident? Of course! With all her heart she wanted to believe that that was what had happened. But after all the doubts and hints and suspicions of the past weeks the sight of them standing there together could mean only one thing to her. Corinna turned back, trying to conceal her agonizing confusion and shame. Little Mrs. Sheldon looked as miserable as though she had unwittingly given away a state secret.

“He’s talking to a friend just now,” murmured Corinna, scarcely aware of what she was saying. “I’ll make my purchases and meet him below in the coach.”

“Can’t I show you the embroidered ribbons I told you about last week, your Ladyship? They came in on the packet-boat from France not two days since!” She almost fluttered as she talked and in spite of herself her eyes shifted again and again across to the opposite corridor. Red-faced over the terrible mistake she had made she was frantically piling great heaps of ribbons on the counter. Oh, if only it had been anyone else but Lady Carlton—so lovely, so gentle, so kind!

Corinna’s head was ringing and her eyes were blinded; she could see nothing but a blur of colour before her. “Yes,” she said softly. “I’ll have three yards of this—and ten of this, I think.”

Lord Carlton and the Duchess of Ravenspur were strolling toward them now, taking a leisurely path along the crowded corridor, absorbed in their own conversation. Quickly Corinna’s woman stepped around behind her mistress to shield her from them as they passed. And little Mrs. Sheldon was babbling distractedly in hope of keeping her from hearing their voices.