The pistol holster on the wall at her side caught her attention. Instantly she looked away, hoping he had not observed her. Very little escaped his Grace.
“I am desolated to have to disappoint you, my dear. It is empty.”
She laid a careless hand on the holster, verifying his statement.
“This? Oh, I guessed it, your Grace!”
He admired her spirit more and more. Was there ever such a girl?
“My name is Tracy,” he remarked.
She considered it with her head tilted to one side.
“I do not like your name, sir,” she answered.
“ ‘There was no thought of pleasing you when I was christened,’ ” he quoted lazily.
“Hardly, sir,” she said. “You might be my father.”
It was a master stroke, and for an instant his brows drew together. Then he laughed.
“Merci du compliment, mademoiselle! I admire your wit.”
“I protest I am overwhelmed. May I ask when we are like to arrive at our destination?”
“We should reach Andover soon after eight, my dear.”
So it was some distance he was taking her?
“I suppose you had the wit to provide food for the journey?” she yawned. “You will not wish to exhibit me at an inn, I take it?”
He marvelled at her indomitable courage.
“We shall halt at an inn certainly, and my servant will bring you refreshment. That will be in about an hour.”
“So long?” she frowned. “Then, pray excuse me an I compose myself to sleep a little. I am like to find the journey somewhat tedious, I fear.”
She shifted farther into the corner, leaned her head back against the cushions and closed her eyes.
Thus outwitting his Grace. For it is impossible to be passionate with a girl who feigns sleep when she should be struggling to escape from you. So Tracy, who, whatever else he might lack, possessed a keen sense of humour, settled himself in his corner and followed her example. So they jogged on. …
Arrived at length at the inn, the coach pulled up slowly. Diana opened her eyes with a great assumption of sleepiness.
“Already?” she marvelled.
“I trust you have slept well,” said his Grace suavely.
“Excellently well, I thank you, sir,” was the unblushing reply.
“I am relieved to hear you say so, my dear. I had thought you unable to—your mouth kept shut so admirably. Doubtless you have schooled your jaw not to drop when you sleep sitting up? I wish I might do the same.”
The triumph in his voice was thinly veiled. She found nothing to say.
He rose.
“With your leave, I will go to procure you some refreshment, child. Do not think me uncivil if I remind you that a servant stands without either door.”
“I thank you for the kind thought,” she smiled, but her heart was sick within her.
He disappeared, returning a few moments later with a glass of wine and some little cakes.
“I deplore the scanty nature of your repast,” he said. “But I do not wish to waste time. You shall be more fittingly entertained when we reach Andover.”
Diana drank the wine gratefully, and it seemed to put new life into her. The food almost choked her, but rather than let him see it, she broke a cake in half and started to eat it, playing to gain time: time in which to allow her father a chance of overtaking them before it was too late. She affected to dislike the cake, and rather petulantly demanded a “maid of honour.”
Tracy’s eyes gleamed.
“I fear I cannot oblige you, my dear. When we are married you can go to Richmond, and you shall have maids of honour in plenty.”
He relieved her of her glass, taking it from hands that trembled pitifully.
The rest of the journey was as some terrible nightmare. She felt that she dared no longer feign sleep. She was terrified at what his Grace might do, and kept him at arm’s length by means of her tongue and all her woman’s wit. As a matter of fact, Andover had himself well in hand, and had no intention of letting his passion run away with him. But as the time went on and the light went, some of Diana’s control seemed to slip from her, and she became a little less the self-possessed woman, and a little more the trapped and frightened child. When they at last reached Andover Court, and his Grace assisted her to alight her legs would barely carry her up the steps to the great iron-clamped door. She trembled anew as he took her hand.
On the threshold he paused and bowed very low. “Welcome to your future home, my queen,” he murmured, and led her in, past wooden-faced footmen who stared over her head, to his private room, where a table was set for two. He would have taken her in his arms then, but she evaded him and slipped wearily into a chair.
“I protest,” she managed to say, “I protest, I am faint through want of food.”
Andover, looking at her white lips, believed her. He took a seat opposite.
Two footmen came to wait on them, and although her very soul was shamed that they should see her there, she was thankful for their restraining presence.
XXVI
My Lord Rides to Frustrate His Grace
My lord yawned most prodigiously and let fall the Spectator. His eyes roved towards the clock, and noted with disgust that the hands pointed to half after five. He sighed and picked up the Rambler.
His host and hostess were visiting some miles distant, and were not likely to be back until late, so my lord had a long dull evening in front of him, which he relished not at all. Lady O’Hara had tried to induce him to accompany them, promising that he would meet no one he knew, but he had for once been prudent and refused steadfastly. So my lady, after pouting crossly at him and assuring him that he was by far the most obstinate and disagreeable man that she had ever come across, not excepting her husband,
