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He laughed. "You are delightful, your Grace. i cannol tell you how I envy my cousin. Will you dance?"

"Certainly,"she said. "But I must warn you that I have a nasty habit of treading all over my partner's feet."

He grinned. "They say to be forewarned is to be forearmed, your Grace," he said as he led her onto the floor to join a set that was forming.

"If we are cousins," she said, "I think you must call me Henry."

When the dance was over and Cranshawe led her to the sidelines, Henry was surprised to find Eversleigh standing there, looking relaxed and at his ease. He had disappeared into the card room an hour before.

"Ah, Oliver," he commented languidly, "enjoying the festivities, dear boy?"

"I have been making the acquaintance of your very charming wife, Marius," Cranshawe replied, smiling down at Henry.

"Quite so," Eversleigh said, putting his quizzing glass to his eye and surveying the other occupants of the room in a leisurely mariner. "I always consider it such a bore to feel duty-bound to converse and dance with family members. In fact, I make it a practice almost never to do so."

"But who would call dancing with Henry a duty?" Cranshawe replied, bowing to her and smiling warmly into her eyes again.

Eversleigh's glass swept in the direction of his heir. "I,, certainly do not, Oliver," he said, "but then her Grace is my wife."

Cranshawe stood uncomfortably where he was for a few moments. Then he bowed to Henry. "If you will excuse me, cousin," he said, "I see someone that I must talk to."

"Good night, Oliver," Henry said, smiling a little uncertainly at him.

Eversleigh lowered his glass and looked at his heir. "On your way so soon, dear boy?" he asked.

Cranshawe bowed again and walked away.

"Marius," Henry said, turning to him with indignation in her eyes, "why were you so rude to your cousin?"

"I? Rude?" he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "But, Henry, I pride myself on always displaying impeccable manners. Will you waltz, my love, before the five young men converging on this spot arrive to whisk you away from a mere husband?"

"Absurd!" she commented, and laid her hand on his proffered arm.

Chapter 6

Henry renewed her acquaintance with Oliver Cranshawe two mornings later in Hyde Park. She was out unfashionably early, riding Jet, who had been brought to London since her marriage. A groom was riding within hailing distance of her. She became aware of Cranshawe cantering up alongside while she was 'in the midst of resisting the temptation to take off her feathered riding hat so that she could feel the breeze in her hair.

"Good morning, cousin," Cranshawe called, flashing her a smile and sweeping off his hat.

."Oh, good morning, Oliver," Henry returned gaily. "Is it not a beautiful morning?"

"All the more so since I saw you," he said, sweeping admiring eyes over her trim figure clad in moss-green riding attire and over her powerful, gleaming black horse. "That is a splendid mount, if I may say so, your Grace."

"Yes, is he not?" she agreed. "But I thought it was decided that you are to call me Henry."

His face grew serious and he looked earnestly across at her. "I understood that your husband did not approve of such familiarity, ma'am," he said.

Henry hesitated. "He was in a disagreeable mood the other night, was he not?" she said. "Is there some quarrel between you and Marius, Oliver?"

"Perhaps you should ask your husband about that," he replied earnestly. "On my part, there is no cause for bad feeling at all. I try my best to be friendly to my cousin. But I realize that it must be difficult for him to know that I am his heir. I assure you that it matters not at all to me, but I do believe that Marius feels threatened by my existence.

Henry looked at him sharply. "That is surely nonsense," she said.

He shrugged. "You must judge for yourself, Henry. I certainly do not wish you to see your husband in a bad light. I should prefer that you judged me harshly." He smiled rather sadly into her eyes.

"I shall do no such thing," she replied firmly. "I always judge matters for myself, sir. But I do believe family feuds to be silly nonsense."

He bowed from the saddle. "Can I tempt you to test your horse against mine, Henry?" he asked, seeming to consider it wise to change the subject.

"Oh, do you mean a race?" she asked, eyes sparkling again.

"Shall we say to the southern gate and back on the count of three?" he suggested.

Henry had never been known to resist such a challenge. Soon the few spectators who were privileged (or unfortunate) enough to be in the park at that morning hour were treated to the spectacle of two horses galloping full tilt down the grassy avenue of the park, their riders, one male and one female, bent low over their necks. They were almost abreast of each other at the turn, but Henry won the race with a few lengths to spare.

"Ha!" she cried, laughing breathlessly as Cranshawe drew his mount to a halt beside hers. "You must now admit that Jet is the superior horse, Oliver."

"Not so, not so!" he protested, holding up one hand and displaying a wide array of very white teeth as he smiled back at her. "You see, I stopped to pick up your hat, which blew off back at the gate. Had I not played the gentleman, ma'am, I declare the outcome might have been very different."

"Pooh!" she replied. "I should not have stopped to rescue your hat, sir. You must pay the penalty for your foolishness."

"Henry," he said, suddenly serious again and bringing his horse closer to hers, "you are such marvelous company. Indeed, it was unkind of you to marry my cousin before you had given me the chance to try my suit."

Henry rapped him sharply on the knuckles with the handle of her whip and looked around until she saw her groom holding his horse at a discreet distance. "Now you are being foolish," she said. "I don't like it when people become silly and untruthful."

He smiled ruefully. "You will not believe in your own attractions, will you, cousin?" he said, still serious. "But may I be your friend, Henry? I think you may need one. I fear your husband can sometimes be a dry old stick."

"You talk a pile of nonsense," Henry replied matter-of-factly, "but of course we are friends. I must return home, Oliver. Jet will be overtired. Good morning, sir."

Late that same afternoon, when Henry was in the drawing room looking over some dress patterns with Miss Manford, Eversleigh strolled in. Henry brightened. The activity had not been of her choosing and was not holding her interest to any great degree. He seated himself and conversed pleasantly with both women for several minutes. Then he turned to his wife.

"Will you come to the library, Henry?" he asked.

"Certainly," she replied, bouncing readily to her feet.

"Will you excuse us, ma'am?" Eversleigh asked, bowing in the direction of Miss Manford.

The governess blushed and stammered and fluttered her hands in an ecstasy of embarrassment at being so courteously noticed by her employer.

"Sit down, Henry," Eversleigh said when they were in the library, the door closed behind them. Henry sat and gazed inquiringly up at him.

Eversleigh moved to the fireplace and leaned one elbow on the mantel. He regarded his wife through half-closed eyelids. "Henry," he asked, "are you happier with your life in London than you were when I first met you?"