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So they went into the dining-room, and seated themselves round the long table, Fanny at one end, and Marling at the other.

‘Y’know I scarce dare venture abroad nowadays,’ remarked Rupert, shaking out his napkin. ‘Wherever I go I’m pounced on for news.’

‘Ay, no one seems able to believe that we know no more than the rest of the world,’ said Davenant.

‘And the people who flock to the house to inquire if Léonie is safe!’ said my lady. ‘This very day I have received Condé, and de Richelieu, and the de la Roques! The child will have a great welcome when – if – if she returns.’

‘Plague take your “ifs”, Fan!’ said Rupert. ‘Will you have claret, Tony?’

‘Burgundy, I thank you, scamp.’

‘I have ceased to answer the letters,’ said Fanny. ‘People have been very kind, but in truth I cannot hope to reply to all.’

‘Kind?’ snorted Rupert. ‘Damned inquisitive, is what I say!’

‘Armand, what becomes of de Valmé – I mean, Bonnard?’

Armand laid down his fork.

‘If you will believe me, the boy is almost glad!’ he said. ‘He understood not in the least what was toward at Madame du Deffand’s that night, but when I explained the matter to him – what do you think he said?’

‘We don’t know,’ said Rupert. ‘We’ve enough mystery without you trying to start a fresh one, stap me if we’ve not!’

‘Rupert!’ My lady frowned upon him. ‘Rude boy!’

‘He said,’ Armand went on, ‘“At last, at last I may have a farm!”’ He looked round impressively. ‘Did you ever hear the like of it?’

‘Never,’ said Davenant gravely. ‘And so?’

‘I shall buy him a farm, of cour

se, and settle money upon him. I suggested that he might wish to remain in Paris, and assured him of my protection, but no! He hates town-life, if you please!’

‘Mad,’ said Rupert with conviction.

Merivale started up.

‘Listen!’ he said sharply.

Outside in the hall was some stir, as of an arrival. Those in the dining-room sprang up, looking half shamefacedly at each other.

‘A – a caller,’ Fanny said. ‘I’m sure it’s only –’

The door was flung open, and his Grace of Avon stood upon the threshold, booted and spurred, and great-coated. Beside him, her hand in his, was Léonie, flushed and radiant. She had shed her cloak and hat, and her bright curls were tumbled.

There was an outcry. Fanny ran forward, exclaiming incoherently; Rupert waved his napkin over his head.

‘What did I tell you?’ he shouted. ‘Mademoiselle de Saint-Vire!’

His Grace raised one white hand, holding them in check. A curiously proud smile hovered above his mouth.

‘No, Rupert,’ he said, and bowed slightly. ‘I have the honour to present to you all – my Duchess.’

‘Thunder an’ turf !’ gasped Rupert, and surged forward.

Fanny reached Léonie first.

‘Oh, my sweet life! I am so glad – I can hardly believe – where did you find her, Justin? Silly, silly child! We have been in such a taking – Kiss me again, my love!’


Tags: Georgette Heyer Alastair-Audley Tetralogy Romance