Almsbury came to her rescue. He crossed the room, kissed her casually, and slipped one arm about her waist. “What d’you think, sweetheart! The scoundrel put into town yesterday!”

“Did you?” said Amber weakly.

Bruce smiled, his eyes going swiftly down over her body. “The sailor’s home from the sea.”

“To stay?”

“No—at least not for long. Amber, may I go with you today?”

She glanced at Almsbury in surprise, for she had forgotten that she had told him her plans for the baby’s birthday. “Yes, of course. Will you wait while I dress?”

With Nan she went back into the bedroom and when the door was shut she sank against it, her eyes closed, as exhausted as though she had just finished some tremendous physical labour. Nan looked at her in alarm.

“Lord, mam! What is it? You don’t look well. Is he your husband?”

“No.” She gave a shake of her head, and started for the dressing-table, but her legs felt as though every bone and muscle had dissolved. “Will you get out that new gown Madame Drelincourt just finished?”

“But it’s raining again, mam. You might spoil it.”

“Never mind!” snapped Amber. “Just do as you’re told!” But she was instantly apologetic. “Oh, Nan, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

“Neither do I, mam. I suppose you’ll not be wanting my company today?”

“No. Not today. I think you’d better stay here and polish the silver—I was noticing last night it’s somewhat tarnished.”

But as she painted her face and Nan dressed her hair she began to grow calmer, the blood seemed to flow in her veins again, and a passionate happiness replaced the first stunning sense of shock. She had thought him more handsome than ever, and the sight of him had filled her with the same intense irrational excitement she had felt the first time she had ever seen him. The past two years and a half had dissolved and vanished. Everything else in her life seemed suddenly unimportant, and dull.

Her new gown was made of chartreuse-coloured velvet and her shoes and stockings matched it exactly; her hooded cloak was topaz velvet, almost the same honey-rich colour as her eyes and hair, and she wore Rex Morgan’s topaz heart around her neck. She picked up her great mink muff and started for the door, but Nan stopped her: “When will you be home, mam?”

Amber tried to answer casually, from over her shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be a little late.”

She saw disapproval on Nan’s face and knew that she was jealous for Rex, thinking that she ought not to go out there with another man, particularly a man who affected her as this one did.

“What about Captain Morgan?”

“The devil with Captain Morgan!” muttered Amber, and went back in to join Almsbury and Bruce.

When they were all in the coach, several gaily wrapped packages piled beside Amber, Almsbury gave a sudden snap of his fingers. “By God, I’m engaged to play at tennis with Sedley! Damned lucky thing I remembered!” With that he climbed out again, grinning back at them from the doorway. Bruce laughed and slapped him on the shoulder, Amber blew him a kiss, and the coach started off.

Behind them the Earl and Nan exchanged looks. “Well,” said his Lordship, “there’s no friend to love like a long voyage at sea,” and he climbed into his own coach and rattled off in the opposite direction.

Amber turned instantly to Lord Carlton. “Bruce! Oh—is it really and truly you! It’s been such a long time—oh, darling, it’s been two years and a half!”

She was close beside him as she looked up, her eyes seeming to swim in some luminous light, and his arm went around her. He bent his head swiftly and his mouth came down hard upon hers. Amber returned his kiss with wild abandon, forgetting where they were, straining toward him with a longing to be crushed and enveloped. She had a sense of plunging disappointment when he released her, as if she had been cut off in the midst of a dream, but he smiled and his fingers passed over her face, lightly caressing.

“What a charming little witch you are,” he said softly.

“Oh, Bruce, am I? Do you think so? Did you ever think about me—way over there?” She was intensely serious.

“I thought about you a great many times—more than I expected. And I worried about you too. I was afraid that someone might get that money away from you—”

“Oh, no!” protested Amber immediately. She would have died rather than let him know what had happened to her. “Don’t I look well enough?” A wave of her hand indicated her expensive clothes, the coach they rode in, her own triumph over the great world. “I can shift for myself, I’ll warrant you.”

He grinned, and if he saw through her bluff he gave no indication of it. “So it seems. But I should have known you would. You’ve got the world’s most marketable commodity—enough for ten women.”

“What’s that?” she asked him, putting on a demure face.

“You damned well know what it is, and I’m not going to flatter you any more. Tell me, Amber: What does he look like? How big is he?”

“Who?” She looked at him in sudden surprise, thinking that he meant Rex Morgan, and then they both burst into laughter. “Oh, the baby! Oh, Bruce, wait till you see him! He’s grown so big I can hardly lift him. And he’s so handsome! He looks just like you—his eyes are the same colour and his hair is getting darker all the time. You’ll adore him! But you should have seen ’im at first. Lord, he was a fright! I was almost glad you weren’t there—”

Both their faces sobered at that. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry you had to be alone. You must have hated me for leaving you.”

She put her hand over his and her voice was low and tender. “I didn’t hate you, Bruce. I love you and I’ll always love you. And I was glad I had him—he was a part of you that you’d left with me, and while I carried him I wasn’t as lonely as I’d have been otherwise. But I don’t want any more babies—it takes too long. Maybe someday when I get old and don’t care how I look I’ll have some more then.”

He smiled. “And when will that be?”

“Oh, when I’m about thirty.” She said it as though she would never be about thirty. “But tell me what you’ve been doing. What’s it like in America? Where did you live? I want to know everything.”

“I lived in Jamaica. It’s an island, but I went to the mainland too. It’s a wonderful country, Amber—wild and empty and untouched, the way England hasn’t been for a thousand years. And it’s over there waiting—for whoever will come to take it.” He sat staring ahead now, talking softly and almost as though to himself. “It’s bigger than anyone knows. In Virginia the plantations are spreading back from the coast, hundreds of thousands of acres, and still there’s more land. There are wild horses and herds of wild cattle, and they belong to whoever can catch them. The forests are full of deer and every year the wild pigeons come over in clouds that blot out the sky. There’s more than enough food in Virginia alone to feed everyone in England better than he’s ever been fed before. The soil is so rich that whatever you plant grows like weeds. It’s something to catch your imagination—something you never dreamed of—” He looked at her suddenly, his eyes glittering with passionate enthusiasm.

“But it isn’t England!”

He laughed, relaxed again, the tension gone. “No,” he agreed. “It isn’t England.”

As far as Amber was concerned that settled the matter, and they began to talk, instead, of his adventures at sea. He told her that the life was unpleasant, that nothing could make a man uglier than being shut up for weeks at a time on a ship with other men, but that it was not very dangerous and was a sure road to riches. That was why so many seamen preferred sailing with the privateers to joining the British navy or the merchant fleets. At that moment the Thames was crowded with prizes just brought into port and more were arriving every day.

“I suppose you’re a mighty rich man, now.”

“My fortunes are considerably improved,” he admitted.

It took an hour and a half to reach Kingsland, for the road was unpaved most of the way and the recent heavy rains had turned it into a slough. Tempest and Jeremiah had to pry the wheels free a dozen times.

But at last they arrived and went around to the kitchen-door of Mrs. Chiverton’s pretty little thatched cottage, where they found her just cleaning the remains of the noon-day meal. Amber had given her frequent and generous gifts of money, for she wanted her son to live in a comfortable home, and the cottage now had an air of pleasant warmth and friendliness that it had not had at first.

The baby lay in his cradle, which he had now almost outgrown, flat on his back and sleeping soundly. Amber put up a cautioning finger as they came in and, walking softly, went over to look at him. His cheeks were flushed and there was a sheen of moisture on his eyelids, his breathing came quietly and regularly. For a long moment Bruce and Amber stood staring down at him, and then their eyes turned and met in a look of mutual pride and congratulation. Lord Carlton’s slender, hard aristocratic hands reached down and closed under his son’s armpits and he lifted him to his chest.

He woke up then, yawning, looked in some surprise at the man who held him, and then catching sight of Amber broke into a sudden smile and reached out for her.

“Mother!”

After a while, when they had eaten a bowl of hot pottage which Mrs. Chiverton insisted they have, they began to unwrap the baby’s presents. There were numerous toys, including drums and soldiers and a Jack-in-the-Pulpit—a Puritan preacher which popped out of a box and swayed comically from one side to the other. And there was a doll with real blonde hair and an extensive wardrobe which Amber had bought for Mrs. Chiverton’s four-year-old daughter. They stayed until mid-afternoon, but when finally they got ready to leave, the baby cried and wanted to go with them. While Amber tried to quiet him Bruce gave Mrs. Chiverton fifty pounds, telling her that he was grateful for the good care his son had received.