But Ellen was determined that matters would not be left at that. She had made a promise to Charlie, and she was going to keep it. His father would not reject them if appealed to, Charlie had said. Well, if necessary, she would go to Sir Jasper herself-not to take tea, but to plead with him to accept his granddaughter. If he had really loved his son, as Dorothy claimed, and if he truly grieved for him now, then surely he could not refuse to meet the daughter whom Charlie had loved, even if there really could be any doubt about her birth.

She would allow one more week to pass. If Dorothy had not said anything more in that time, then Ellen would take action herself. She felt better having decided so. She felt as if she were coming back to life after a long time. She reached for the blotter and carefully dried the ink on her letter.

She had taken action on something else too. She had told Dorothy the day before about the child. She had been feeling unusual tiredness during the days, and frequently felt nauseated and dizzy in the mornings. She needed to tell someone. She had told no lies. She had said nothing about the baby’s paternity and had said merely that it was expected sometime early in the following spring. She had not told the truth either, of course.

Dorothy had been overjoyed, and had hugged her and kissed her and laughed and shed tears.

“Oh, I am so very happy,” she had said. “I have hoped for it ever since Charlie married you, Ellen. And now it has happened just when it seemed too late. I am so very happy for you. But have you seen a physician?”

Ellen had shaken her head and agreed that she would see Dorothy’s doctor later in the week, as soon as it could be arranged.

She felt uneasy about the deception. But what could she have done? How could she have told Charlie’s sister the truth? On the whole, it felt good to have her secret off her chest. Though it was not entirely so.

“Please don’t tell Jennifer yet,” she had said.

“But why ever not?” Lady Habersham had asked. “She will be thrilled to know that she is to have a sister or brother.”

“I will find the right moment to tell her,” Ellen had said.

Jennifer’s brother or sister! She had felt very uneasy and guilty again. But if only she could bring about this reconciliation with Sir Jasper, then she could remove to the country, and she would be free to tell everyone the truth. The time would come soon, she hoped, long before her child was born.

Yesterday had brought one other relief from a burden, although Jennifer had been disappointed. An unexpected commitment had forced Lord Eden to cancel his plan to call on them during the afternoon. There had been no other explanation. It must be that he had realized that she was at home when he had called before, that she had refused to see him. It must be that he had changed his mind about forcing his company on her.

There was enormous relief in the knowledge. She really did not want to see him. And there had been a certain pain in the prospect of his seeing Jennifer again. It had seemed for a while in Brussels that the two of them might be developing a tendre for each other. And at one time she had hoped it was true.

She would not think of such things. Jennifer was not unhappy. She had her friends, and she was very young. There would be time enough for beaux and marriage after her year of mourning was past.

Ellen sealed her letter and got to her feet. She stayed standing despite the wave of nausea that had her bending her head forward and closing her eyes for a moment. She would hand the letter to a footman and it would go with the day’s mail. Strange to think that she would be in Paris herself if Charlie had still been alive. No, she would not think of it. She hurried out into the hallway.

And collided head-on with a man standing just outside the morning-room door.

“Oh,” she said, looking up sharply as he caught at her arms to steady her.

“Ellen,” he said.

She looked up into his face through a long, dark tunnel. There was a buzzing in her ears. She clasped her letter to her bosom.

“Ellen,” he said again. “How are you?”

“Well,” she said, but no sound came from her mouth. “Well,” she repeated.

He was still clasping her arms. He let her go suddenly, and they stared at each other foolishly, both seemingly incapable either of moving or of mouthing some commonplace.

“I have just sent the butler upstairs with my card,” he said eventually.

“I was writing a letter,” she said, holding it out almost as if she were offering it to him.

Her voice sounded very far away. She listened to it as if it were someone else forming the words. And the buzzing in her ears became a roar even as she felt her face grow cold and her vision recede.

“Ellen!” someone was saying very, very far away. “Sit on the stairs for a minute.” And someone was holding her sagging body in very strong arms and lowering her to a sitting position on the stairs. And someone’s warm hand was at the back of her neck, forcing her head downward. And someone was stooping down in front of her. She was breathing in the fragrance of a familiar cologne.

“She has fainted. She will come around in a moment.” The quiet voice was close to her ear.

“May I fetch something, my lord?” The voice of the butler.

“A glass of water, perhaps.” Strong, warm hands took one of hers between them and began to chafe it. “Keep your head down, Ellen,” he said. “Take slow, deep breaths.”

Dominic’s voice. It was Dominic. And she had fainted! She was sitting on the second stair in the hallway, the butler hurrying up with a glass of water, and Dominic down on one knee in front of her, taking the glass in his hand, covering her own cold and shaking hand over it, and helping her to lift it to her mouth.

She had fainted. She did not think she would ever be able to raise her head.

“How foolish of me,” she said. “I am quite all right now.”

But a firm hand on each of her shoulders held her down when she would have got to her feet.

“Just sit there for a moment,” he said.

And then the front doors were being opened and Dorothy and Jennifer were there, and her humiliation was complete.

“My lord?” Jennifer said. “And Ellen? Whatever is the matter?”

“She has fainted,” Lord Eden said. “But I believe she has almost recovered now.”

“Ellen!” Dorothy said, hurrying over to her. “One of those dizzy spells again, dear?”

Don’t say anything!

“I am fine,” Ellen said, trying again to rise, and feeling those strong hands close again about her shoulders, holding her down. “I cannot think what came over me. Please forgive me. I shall go up to my room.”

“I shall carry you there,” Lord Eden said.

“Yes, you must lie down,” Lady Habersham said. “You really should be resting more, dear.”

Don’t say any more. Please don’t say any more!

“Thank you,” Ellen said, “but I have quite recovered now, my lord. I do not need your assistance.”

“I shall come with you, Ellen,” Lady Habersham said. “You must lie down until luncheon time. And I shall send for my physician. It is high time you consulted him.”

Please, oh, please, don’t say any more!

Ellen collapsed facedown on her bed a few minutes later and stayed there as her sister-in-law removed her slippers and tiptoed from the room.

If she tried very hard from now until doomsday, she could not possibly think of a greater humiliation than what had just happened. He had appeared again, and she had swooned-literally swooned-at his feet. Whatever would he think? He was bound to draw all the wrong conclusions.

She had been feeling dizzy before she left the morning room. She had not been expecting him. She had not had time to prepare herself for that first face-to-face encounter. If only she had known, she would have received him with admirable coolness. He had taken her by surprise.

And she had swooned!

How would she ever be able to face him again? As if it had not been hard enough to do so anyway. But would she have to face him again? Would he not now realize that she just did not want to see him?

Or would he feel obliged to come back to inquire after her health?

Lord Eden, downstairs with Lady Habersham and Jennifer, was expressing concern about Ellen’s health.

“She has been feeling indisposed for some time,” Lady Habersham said. “It is doubtless no more than the stress caused by my brother’s death. I will make sure that she sees a physician and rests more.”

“I did not know that Ellen had been feeling unwell,” Jennifer said in some distress. “She has not said anything to me, Aunt Dorothy. I have been selfish, as usual, have I not? I have been thinking about only my feelings.”

“You are absolutely not to blame, my dear,” her aunt said briskly.

Lord Eden got to his feet. “I was hoping that you and Mrs. Simpson would be free to walk with me this afternoon,” he said to Jennifer. “But I will, if I may, call tomorrow to see how your stepmother does.”

He made his bows and took his leave.

Had he done that to her? he wondered as he rode away. Had she really been unwell, as Lady Habersham had said? Or had it been a sickness that only the sight of him had brought on?

Should he call the next day? Would it be kinder and more honorable to stay away? But he would have to go. He would have to assure himself that she was feeling better.

He had dreaded making the call. He had dreaded that first moment of looking at her again with all the necessity of appearing cool without seeming careless, of appearing friendly without seeming heartless. He had dreaded having to form those first words to say to her.