Six

Gwendeline woke early the next morning despite her late night, and she immediately resolved to go to her house for a visit with Miss Brown. She might well know something helpful about the tangle Gwendeline felt she was facing. Gwendeline jumped out of bed, rang for Ellen, and in less than an hour the two of them were walking along the streets of Mayfair. Few people were abroad at this early hour, but the sun shone brightly on freshly washed pavements and entryways, and the breeze was warm.

Miss Brown was already busy with the day’s tasks when they arrived, as Gwendeline had known she would be. They greeted one another affectionately and ordered tea brought to the small drawing room. Gwendeline exclaimed over its appearance as she sat down. It was much more airy and welcoming than the last time she’d seen it.

“Well, we moved out some of that heavy furniture,” said Miss Brown, “the pieces you said you didn’t like. And we found these curtains in the attic, along with some of the smaller pieces. I can’t understand why you’re so surprised, Gwendeline. It was all done under your direction.”

“Yes, but I didn’t know just how it would look. It’s amazingly improved, don’t you think?”

Miss Brown looked around. “Yes, I do. The whole house is wonderfully changed, as you would know if you spent any time here.” She shrugged. “Will you move in soon?”

Gwendeline looked down, frowning. “Perhaps. I’m confused lately, Brown. I’ve come to talk with you about it.”

The older woman’s fine eyebrows came together. She looked steadily at her former pupil. “I’ll be happy to do anything I can, Gwendeline. What is the matter?”

“That’s part of the problem. I hardly know. It involves my mother and father.”

“I wondered if that would come,” said Miss Brown. “What has been said to you?”

“Nothing specific, nothing I really understand. I had hoped that you’d tell me what you know about my parents’ lives. Things that occurred when I was a child, perhaps, things I wasn’t aware of or don’t remember.”

Miss Brown sat back, sighing. Though she was a tall, rangy woman, her graceful carriage and the immaculate neatness of her plain dresses and dark brown hair gave her a certain distinction. But now, this air was tinged with concern. “I’ll try,” she replied. “But I know very little, Gwendeline. I spent all my time with you in the country, as you know. However, since I left you a year ago, I have heard some talk about your parents. When people learn I was employed by them, they imagine I would be interested in gossip. And one of my school friends has just become governess to Lady Forester’s children in Berkeley Square. She hears all the tattle-mongering.”

“Oh, tell me what they say, please,” said Gwendeline.

“I shall not repeat malicious stories,” Brown answered disapprovingly. “But I have learned something of your parents’ history. I can tell you that.” She sat straighter. “They married very young, it seems, and most unwillingly. Your father especially, I’ve heard, was opposed to marriage at that time of his life. He was a very wild young man by all accounts, and his parents wished to see him settled. His father was ill, and by emphasizing that fact and using other pressures, they persuaded him at last. Your mother was just out, the darling of the ton in her first season—she was very beautiful, as you know, Gwendeline—and she, too, wished to wait before marrying. But all four parents felt the financial advantages were too important to put it off.” She looked at Gwendeline. “As I think you know already, the lands that made up your mother’s dowry were adjacent to the Brooklands estate.”

Gwendeline nodded. This, at least, she’d been told.

“So they were married,” Miss Brown continued. “It was the event of the season, I understand, a very elegant wedding. They went abroad, to Paris and Rome, on an extended trip, then came home to settle in London. You were born that first year.” She paused, looking uncomfortable. “But the marriage was evidently, ah, not an entirely happy one, Gwendeline. Perhaps because they were forced into it. For whatever reason, the regard that married couples should have for one another did not develop between your mother and father. He returned to the activities and acquaintances of the past, and she gathered a circle of rather unsuitable friends about her. Like many couples today, their lives were almost separate.”

“But they always came down to Brooklands together,” said Gwendeline. “They can’t have been always apart.”

Miss Brown shook her head. “Of course not, Gwendeline, there were appearances to be maintained. And in the later years, those you remember best, your parents’ two groups of friends were becoming one group. Your mother began to, ah, join in some of your father’s pastimes.”

“Perhaps they were becoming closer to one another after so many years,” said Gwendeline hopefully.

Miss Brown seemed reluctant to continue. “I wish I could say that was so, Gwendeline,” she went on finally. “But I believe the bond involved no more than your mother’s developing interest in gambling. She started to accompany your father to the gaming table. And to go on her own account as well.”

“Oh,” answered Gwendeline. Her face fell. “I see.”

“I tell you these things only because you ask me,” Miss Brown said. “And because I think you should know them if you are to go about in London society. I would not hurt you for the world, Gwendeline.”

“I’m sure of that. And you’re right. It’s important that I know something of my parents if I’m to get along in society. Do go on.”

“There’s little more to say. Things only got worse in the last years of your parents’ lives, I understand. I saw your mother once soon after I left you. She looked unhappy.”

Gwendeline felt like crying. The story would have been sad in any circumstance, but to hear of so much unhappiness involving her own parents was doubly melancholy. She was silent for a few moments. “Did you ever meet a Mr. Blane or hear anyone speak of him?” she asked finally.

Miss Brown thought for a moment. “There was once some talk of a Mr. Blane among the servants, I believe.” She looked doubtful.

“Yes, Brown,” said Gwendeline. “He was a friend of my father’s?”

“Well, he was mentioned more often in connection with your mother.” Miss Brown was reluctant, but Gwendeline looked at her pleadingly. “You know how servants gossip, Gwendeline. Some said that there was a clandestine connection of some sort between your mother and Mr. Blane.”

“Oh,” said Gwendeline.

“I daresay it was nothing but backstairs imaginings. Doubtless entirely fabricated by a disgruntled footman.” Miss Brown’s gaze grew sharper. “Have you met the man?”

Gwendeline nodded. “And the way he talks of Mother… Well, he clearly admired her very much.”

“I see.” Miss Brown wore her stern governess look. “He doesn’t sound like the sort of person you should associate with, Gwendeline.”

“I don’t wish to,” she replied. “But he insists on talking to me at every opportunity. He makes me very uncomfortable.”

“Has he been impertinent or insulted you?” asked Miss Brown indignantly.

“No, no, he is always polite. It is only his tone, his manner, that I don’t like. I wish I needn’t meet him at every ton party.”

“It would be much more sensible to move in here and live quietly, seeing only a few good friends.” She nodded impatiently in response to Gwendeline’s gesture. “Yes, I know we’ve been over this before. Well, I think Lord Merryn should be told of this. I’m sure he could do something about Mr. Blane.”

“No,” exclaimed Gwendeline quickly. “I beg pardon,” she went on as Miss Brown gave her a startled look, “but I’m also uncertain about Lord Merryn.”

“Surely he hasn’t behaved badly toward you,” her old governess said. “He’s so much the gentleman.”

“No, of course not,” answered Gwendeline. “He hardly notices my existence. But Mr. Blane said things that made me wonder at his behavior. He suggested that the earl was also more friendly with my mother than my father. In fact, he implied that he and my father were enemies.” She looked at Miss Brown.

“I hardly consider this Mr. Blane a trustworthy source of information,” she answered. “I never heard Lord Merryn mentioned at all around your parents’ household. I cannot believe such assertions.”

Gwendeline felt a vast sense of relief. She hadn’t known until this moment how much Mr. Blane’s accusations had upset her. “But if he was a friend of my father’s?”

“He probably wouldn’t have been a subject of servants’ gossip,” finished Miss Brown.

“Of course.” Gwendeline sighed. “If he’d been an enemy, they would have talked of that. If they’d quarreled?”

“You’ve let this man’s talk upset you, Gwendeline. That is too bad. Lord Merryn has been all kindness to you. Why should you suspect him of duplicity?”

“It is just that I can’t find the others he says aided me with money and this house. He always evades my questions.”

“Perhaps they wish to remain anonymous,” offered Miss Brown.

“But why?” asked Gwendeline.

“In my experience, there are two types of philanthropists—those who wish to exert themselves as little as possible and to receive a great deal of credit, and those who do a great deal and tell no one. Perhaps your father’s friends are all the latter type.”

Gwendeline looked doubtful. “Perhaps. But it seems very unlikely. Especially considering my father’s life and the sort of friends he must have had.”

Miss Brown frowned. “When you put it that way, yes. But I think it could be true of Lord Merryn at least. He seems the sort of man who does not care to flaunt his good deeds.”

“But why, then, was he made the agent of this group? You see how confusing it is, Brown? And one thing remains most puzzling.”

“And what is that?”

“Why would he do this particular good deed?” Gwendeline looked at her. “If he wasn’t close to my parents, why would he help me?”

Miss Brown was at a loss for a moment. “Simple kindness?” she said finally, but her tone was doubtful. “To help a fellow human being?”

Gwendeline shook her head. “A stranger, with no connection to him? No, Brown, there must be a better reason. I’m perfectly ready to accept the idea that the earl is a charitable man, but even he must have some motive. Having no idea what it is makes me uneasy. I don’t distrust him as I do Mr. Blane, but I don’t understand him either.”

Miss Brown found nothing to say to this.

As they sat in silence, pondering the problem, Reeves entered the drawing room and stood before them. “Excuse me,” he said, “but Alphonse wishes to see you, Miss Gwendeline.”

“Alphonse?” asked Gwendeline, surprised. “What does he want?”

“I don’t know,” Reeves replied. “He refuses to tell me anything about it.” The butler’s expression was forbidding.

“Oh dear,” said Miss Brown. “I wonder what is the matter now.”

Gwendeline shrugged. “Very well. Ask him to step in here, Reeves.”

Reeves’s bearing stiffened further. “Yes, miss.”

Gwendeline looked at Miss Brown. “Reeves is struggling not to tell me he knew this would happen, of course. Foreigners.”

Miss Brown laughed. “Alphonse is a very excitable foreigner.”

A few minutes later, Alphonse came into the room with his customary energy. He looked defiant as he stood before Gwendeline, his black eyes snapping and his small moustache bristling alarmingly.

“Yes Alphonse,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“I wish to inform you that I depart immediatement,” he answered dramatically. “I cannot work.”

Both ladies sat up straighter. “But what’s happened?” asked Gwendeline. “I thought you were happy here.”

Alphonse gave a helpless shrug. “The house, it is good. I have nothing to say against it. But I cannot work with that dolt, that imbecile of a cookboy.” His look expressed infinite contempt. “That Michael. He drive me crazy!” The little man struck his forehead with his palm.

Miss Brown glanced at Gwendeline with amused resignation. This was a recurrent problem. Whenever Michael made some mistake, Alphonse threatened to leave. Gwendeline had heard of such scenes, but she had never before had to cope with one herself.

“Oh, Alphonse,” she said. “What has Michael done this time?”

“Well may you ask.” Alphonse looked incredulous. “He has thrown away all the truffles. Ah, mademoiselle, he is a barbarian. He says he thinks them garbage.” He made an extravagant gesture to convey his horror to his listeners. “Garbage, mademoiselle! It is too much; I cannot live with such ignorance. I, Alphonse Lorvalle, who have cooked for Brillat-Savarin. You know him, mademoiselle?”

Gwendeline shook her head helplessly.

“Ah. The greatest, the most subtle of palates. A genius, en effet. He has approved me, mademoiselle, I swear it. Before we all have to flee from that bête Buonaparte. And now I should endure this Michael?” Alphonse looked outraged. “No,” he finished. “It is not to be thought.”

“Oh dear,” said Gwendeline. “Well, let’s go and talk to him. He must learn better than that.” She rose and the three of them went downstairs to find Michael. After nearly half an hour of talk and negotiations, greatly aided by Miss Brown, Gwendeline pacified Alphonse and made Michael promise he would be more careful. She then made a thorough inspection of the house, before walking back to Lady Merryn’s. As she went, her thoughts turned back to Miss Brown’s story. She had found out a great deal, but she wished to know still more. Perhaps careful questioning would elicit some information from the countess, she thought. After all, she must know something of Gwendeline’s parents and of her son’s doings as well. Gwendeline quickened her pace, resolving to learn whatever she could from Lady Merryn that very day.

But when she arrived, she found the countess was entertaining part of her literary group, and there would be no opportunity for questions. Gwendeline was vexed and disappointed. Not only could she learn nothing now, but she would have to endure the conversation of Mr. Woodley and his ilk. She determined to avoid that if at all possible. As she was removing her bonnet in her bedroom, one of the maids knocked. “Lady Merryn’s compliments,” she said as she came in, “and she says would you join the luncheon party as soon as may be.”

“Thank her for me please, Mary, but say that I am tired and have a slight headache. I beg to be excused from luncheon.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “Oooh, but miss, there’s all sorts of important ladies and gentlemen come to lunch. My lady is half-distracted.”

“Even so,” replied Gwendeline firmly. “Please tell her what I said.”

Mary went out, but in a few minutes there was another knock and Lady Merryn entered Gwendeline’s room. “Gwendeline! You can’t miss luncheon. Mr. Woodley is here to tell us more about the Godwins, and Lady Penton is just back from abroad. She has brought mounds of French novels”—she paused—“which you, er, would not like, I imagine. But this is one of the most important literary gatherings since you arrived in town. You can’t miss it.”

Gwendeline repeated her plea of tiredness and headache.

“Well, you’ll make yourself ill if you insist on rising at dawn the day after a ball and going out. Where have you been at this hour, by the by? When I came to find you, the servants told me you are often out early.”

Gwendeline braced herself for reproaches. “I like to get a little air in the mornings, Lady Merryn. Sometimes I stop to check on my house, to make sure the servants are getting on all right.”

“Do you indeed?” asked the countess. She looked at Gwendeline worriedly. “Well, I am sure they manage perfectly well. You mustn’t worry over that house.”

Gwendeline said nothing.

“If you really don’t want to come down…” Lady Merryn looked at her doubtfully, but Gwendeline shook her head. “It’s a pity to miss such an opportunity, Gwendeline. You don’t hear such talk at ton parties.” She brightened. “Though they are giving me a wealth of material for my new novel. I’ve definitely decided to write a society novel; did I tell you? A sort of roman à clef full of well-known persons, disguised of course. That sort of thing is excessively popular now, you know.”

Gwendeline murmured something noncommital.

“I hope to start writing next week, and I know I shall receive a great deal of invaluable advice today. Perhaps you’ll be able to help me as well, my dear. You’ve met all the young people.” She smiled brightly. “I must go down. You rest, Gwendeline. I’ll have a tray sent up. You mustn’t be fatigued for the musical party this evening.” She hurried from the room.

Gwendeline sat down in her armchair and put her chin on her hand. She was tired, she found, and dispirited. She didn’t wish to go to another party this evening. She sat for a while staring out the window, then she shook herself. You are ungrateful, she thought, you don’t wish this and you don’t understand that. You’re becoming a bore. She rose and rang for Ellen. “I shall go riding,” she said, “to clear the cobwebs out of my brain.”

Within a short time, Gwendeline had changed into her dark blue riding habit, eaten a light luncheon from the tray, and gone down to the stables. She found her horse saddled and ready. The young groom who would accompany her held the bridle. Gwendeline took it and stroked the nose of the lovely little roan mare that Lord Merryn had sent over for her use some weeks ago. “Hello, Firefly,” she said to the horse. “You’re glad to get out, too, aren’t you?”

They rode to the park and through its gates. The day was still sunny, and there were a number of coaches and riders already there. Gwendeline turned into a nearly empty track and set her horse to trot. Coming to the end, she reined in and turned onto the broader, more traveled path that intersected it, the groom keeping just behind her. She hadn’t gone far when she heard someone call her name. It was Lord Merryn, mounted on a magnificent black, rapidly coming abreast of her.

“Shall we ride together?” he asked, as he reined in beside her. “It’s a fine day for it.”

Gwendeline nodded her agreement, and they went on together. Lord Merryn seemed in good spirits.

“I’m glad to see that you’re getting some use out of your horse,” he said. “I thought she would suit you. Do you like her?”

“Oh yes,” answered Gwendeline, patting Firefly’s neck. “We’ve taken many rides together, but I’m usually out rather earlier.”

“Ah. You ride very well, Miss Gregory.”

Gwendeline flushed with pleasure at this compliment. “Thank you. Riding in Hyde Park is very dull, however, don’t you think? How I long for more space and a fast gallop.” She laughed up at him guiltily. “You’ll think I’m ungrateful, but riding at Brooklands there were miles of fields.”

“I agree with you completely. Riding in the city is very flat,” replied the earl. “Perhaps we should get up a party to go riding in the country?”

“I’d like that very much. And I know Lillian Everly would be delighted also.”

“Then it shall be done,” said the earl, smiling at Gwendeline with no trace of the sardonic gleam that she disliked. “If only because it is the one thing I have seen you express real enthusiasm for since you came to London.”

“That’s not true,” cried Gwendeline. “I like everything excessively, and I’m very grateful for all…” She paused as she encountered the earl’s teasing glance. “Oh, you’re roasting me again.”

“I was,” he said. “But it is true that you haven’t shown such eagerness many times. Seeing you at gatherings lately, I almost concluded that you disliked London.” His eyes grew teasing again. “Or that you had become as blasé as some of the other young ladies.”

Gwendeline didn’t rise to his bait this time. “I’m not blasé. But I admit that I often feel restless or, or not quite happy, or… I can’t really explain the feeling. There are so many things I can’t understand. I’ve been thinking more and more lately of retiring to my—to the house you have kindly lent me, and giving up parties entirely.”

Though he looked a bit amused, the earl responded to her tone. “You’re free to do so if you wish. But I see no need for you to cease attending parties. My mother would be happy to accompany you until we found a suitable companion.”

“Oh, I have Miss Brown,” said Gwendeline before she thought. Then she flushed with annoyance and embarrassment. She’d been so enjoying the ride and the easy conversation that she’d forgotten to mind her tongue.

“Miss Brown?” asked Merryn, watching her confusion with a mixture of perplexity and amusement.

“Yes. I, uh, you see, when I was readying the house.” Gwendeline paused. She took a deep breath and continued more coherently. “I told you of Miss Brown, my governess for many years. When I knew about the house, I wrote to her and asked her to come. She kindly consented, and she has been living there for some weeks.” Gwendeline glanced apprehensively toward the earl. “She’s very respectable. I’m sure there could be no better chaperone for me.”

Lord Merryn was smiling at her. “I’ve underestimated you, I fear, Gwendeline. There are devious twists to your character that I never imagined. Does my mother know of the existence of this Miss Brown, pray?”

Gwendeline shook her head. “Are you angry?”

He laughed. “Why should I be angry? I’m much relieved to find that you’re capable of managing such things. Shall I be allowed to meet Miss Brown?”

His tone was so encouraging that Gwendeline risked teasing him a little. “To make sure she’s suitable?” she asked slyly.

The earl held up a hand. “Merely to make the acquaintance of an estimable lady. She must be quite extraordinary to have been your governess for years.”

“Well, I’ll ask her,” answered Gwendeline, laughing. “But she’s very strict. I’m not sure she would receive you alone. I may have to accompany you.” The earl’s response was a laugh so hearty and genuine that Gwendeline was surprised. She’d never seen him so unguarded.

She returned from her ride much more cheerful and ready for another foray into London society. It was nearly time to change, as dinner would be early tonight, and she ran lightly up the stairs to her room to dress. There was no sign of Lady Merryn.

When Gwendeline descended to the drawing room, wearing her new evening dress of pale blue trimmed with knots of dark blue ribbon, there was still no sign of the countess. She sat down to wait for her, a bit puzzled, since it lacked only a few minutes to dinnertime. But Lady Merryn had not appeared when Allison came in to announce dinner. Gwendeline asked him if her ladyship had gone out.

“I don’t believe so, Miss Gwendeline,” he answered. “She left no word if she did. I shall inquire.” Gwendeline sat down again, uncertain whether she should worry. Lady Merryn had never been absent without leaving a message for her.

Very soon, Allison returned; he looked resigned. “Her ladyship’s maid informs me that Lady Merryn went up to her study after luncheon,” he told Gwendeline. “She has not come out or rung since then.”

“I see,” said Gwendeline. “Perhaps she’s very busy. I’ll go up and see if she wants to have dinner sent up to her.”

Allison’s resignation deepened. “Yes, miss. I will inform the kitchen,” he said as Gwendeline left the room.

She walked down the corridor and knocked softly at the door of Lady Merryn’s study. There was no answer, but she opened the door slightly and saw the countess seated at her desk. The desktop was covered with papers, as was the floor around her chair. There were several open volumes before her, and Lady Merryn was writing furiously. She had a spot of ink on her sleeve.

“Excuse me,” said Gwendeline quietly. “Shall I have some dinner sent up to you, Lady Merryn?”

For a moment, she seemed not to have heard. Then, the countess ended a sentence with a flourish and put down her pen. “Two chapters,” she said to Gwendeline triumphantly. “Finished! I’ve written thirty pages without stopping once. The ideas discussed at luncheon fired my imagination, and I resolved to begin my new novel at once. I think it will be my best so far.”

“That’s wonderful,” replied Gwendeline. “I’m very glad.”

“Thank you, my dear. Did you want me? I think I’ll go on working since it’s going so well. We can talk at dinner.”

“I came to see whether dinner should be sent up to you,” Gwendeline answered.

“Good heavens,” Lady Merryn exclaimed. She suddenly seemed to notice Gwendeline’s evening dress. “Is it dinnertime already? And we are to go out this evening!” She got up hurriedly, knocking a book off the desk. “I must dress immediately. Ring for Mary, would you, my dear.”

Gwendeline went to the bell. “We needn’t go out if you’d rather write,” she said. “I don’t want to keep you from it.”

“Nonsense, my dear, I’ll be gathering material the whole evening. A much more intriguing way of doing research. I’ll be down instantly.” She hurried off to her bedroom.

Gwendeline returned to the drawing room and informed Allison that dinner should be put back half an hour. He took the news well, but Gwendeline heard him tell the footman as he crossed the hall that the cook “would be fair enraged.”

They were a little late for the musical evening. The entertainment had started when they arrived, and they were forced to find seats near the back of the room, behind most of the other guests. Gwendeline could see little besides the backs of the people in front of her, so she gave herself up to listening until the interval.

When refreshment was offered, Gwendeline had a chance to survey the crowd. Looking from group to group as they stood chatting, she saw many acquaintances. Lillian was present, talking to her hostess near the piano. And Gwendeline saw Lord Wanley, Mr. Horton, and Mr. Woodley, among others. But she couldn’t find Lord Merryn, look as she would. She’d hoped to see him there and was disappointed at his absence.

“If only I could believe you were searching this crush for me,” said a voice close to her ear. Gwendeline jumped, startled. “Pardon me,” said Mr. Blane. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Not at all,” said Gwendeline coldly.

“I need not ask how you are this evening,” Blane went on smoothly. “Your looks tell me that you are well.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “I was just going to speak to Lillian Everly. If you’ll excuse me.” And she moved to cross the room.

Blane stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I almost feel that you’re trying to avoid me, Miss Gregory. I’m hurt.”

Gwendeline shook off his hand. “I have something important to say to Miss Everly. That is all, sir.”

Mr. Blane looked at her speculatively. His eyes held both amusement and a hardness Gwendeline found unsettling. “Then you must allow me to escort you,” he said, offering his arm.

Gwendeline took it, seeing no alternative. Together, they crossed the room to Lillian.

Mr. Blane bowed, “I’ll leave you then to make your important communication to Miss Everly,” he said to Gwendeline. “I hope we will have an opportunity to talk later.” With a malicious glance, he turned and walked away.

Gwendeline turned to find Lillian looking at her. “Shall we take a turn about the room,” she said, seeing Gwendeline’s confusion. “If you will excuse us?” This was addressed to their hostess and the two young men she’d been talking to. Lillian linked arms with Gwendeline and guided her toward the more open space by a bow window. “Did you wish to tell me something?” she asked.

“No, no,” said Gwendeline miserably. “I merely wished to get away from Mr. Blane. It was very unkind of him to repeat my excuse before everyone.”

Lillian’s perplexity disappeared, but she looked concerned still. “Was he rude to you?”

“Not at all, he is always excessively polite. But I don’t like him, and I wished to avoid private conversation with him.” She felt both foolish and upset.

“I see,” said Lillian. “It’s a difficult situation. He’s known to have been such a, er, friend of your parents.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Gwendeline bitterly. “I have heard what a good friend he was.” She stopped in confusion lest Lillian ask her to explain.

“Have you?” responded the other girl, looking at her closely. She seemed reassured by what she saw. “That’s good.”

Gwendeline looked back at her, and Lillian nodded. “I’ve heard a few things myself,” she added. “My mother has a very liberal view about what I should be told. She usually answers the questions I put to her. It’s an extraordinary help.”

“I should think it would be indeed,” said Gwendeline feelingly. “I wish I had such a mother.”

“She’s wonderful,” agreed Lillian. “And I think you’re right to try to avoid Mr. Blane. I’ll help you if I can.”

“Thank you,” Gwendeline said. “He’s very persistent.”

The hostess began to reorganize her guests for another session of music, and the conversation was interrupted. The two girls sat together; however, just as the musicians struck up, they were joined by Mr. Horton and Lord Wanley with much embarrassing clattering of gilt chairs and dislodgement of their neighbors. Gwendeline merely looked at the floor, but Lillian said, “Shh,” as the gentlemen dropped into their chairs and seemed about to speak. The music drowned their objections.

Gwendeline was able to avoid Mr. Blane for the rest of the evening, staying close to the group of young people. Lord Merryn never appeared, and she found herself tiring early. Finally, she pulled Lady Merryn away from a spirited investigation of the latest on dits—splendid material for her book she protested—and they left the party. Gwendeline felt only relief to be home again.