Part 42 (2/2)

Polly gazed at her reflection with complete lack of interest and tweaked a curl back inside her coronet with a weary hand. The temptation to stay in here forever was overwhelming. She would have to tell Lucille. She could not bear it. A shadow fell across the mirror.

The candles wavered. Polly swung round, a hand to her throat.

She would never have thought it of him, but then she had consistently underestimated Lord Henry March night. He did not care a rush for convention and would go wherever he pleased, even into the ladies'

withdrawing-room. As she watched, he closed the door with great deliberation and came towards her.

”Good evening. Lady Polly,” Lord Henry said. With icy courtesy.

”I want to talk to you.”

Chapter Fifteen.

QysQ.

All of Polly's emotions flashed into immediate and vivid life, as though she had previously been moving through a dream.

Although Henry was standing at some distance from her, she could feel the anger emanating from him, see the hostility in his eyes. Even as she grasped at the opportunity to speak to him and attempt to explain the dreadful dilemma in which she found herself, something in her quailed before the fury she saw in him.

She put out a hand towards him.

”Henry! Oh, thank G.o.d! Please--it is not as you imagine--' ” No? Then how is it, my lady? ” There was no gentleness in him now. He took a step forward and caught both her arms above the elbow.

”Is it that Dit ton could offer what I was not free to do? Strange, I did not think you the type to accept an offer for the sake of being married!

Why, you have had many better chances! Morris.h.!.+ Bel lars!” He shook her slightly. ”So perhaps it is that Dit ton's type attracts you? But again, I could have sworn that was not so! Was his love-making prettier than mine, perhaps?”

Polly wilted in his arms.

”Oh, do not,” she whispered, unable to bear the anguish in his eyes.

She put up a hand to his cheek.

”Harry, it was not like that! I had no choice...”

There was a moment of complete stillness, when the fury still burned in Henry's eyes, then it faded and he slid his hands down her arms, clasping her cold hands in his.

”Polly, my love, you must tell me what has happened. I was so angry...

I am sorry--' He broke off. ” When I saw you tonight I knew something was dreadfully wrong. Tell me. ” He tightened his grip. ” You must trust me. ” The easy tears stung Polly's eyes again and closed her throat. If Henry had remained angry, had reviled her, she would have withstood his hostility in stony silence, but this gentleness almost unmanned her.

”Oh, Harry, I cannot tell--' The tears choked her. She could not bear it.

Henry was still holding her tightly.

”Dit ton is compelling you into this offensive masquerade, is he not?

But--' he frowned '--I cannot see by what means...”

”I cannot tell,” Polly said again, unable to meet his eyes.

”Oh, Harry, do not ask me--' ” It cannot be because of that foolish incident the other night,” Henry continued, his tone hardening.

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