"You are very kind, Oliver, but it is a private matter, And not serious, I assure you."
"Is it Marius?" he asked. "I do not wish to pry, heaven knows, but I cannot believe him to be a suitable husband for one as young and full of life as you, Henry."
"You are being ridiculous," she said. "Of course it is not Marius. He is the best of husbands. But it is something I cannot tell him. Oh, may I tell you about it, Oliver? I think it will help me just to talk it over with someone else. And perhaps you may be able to advise me."
"Be assured that I shall do all in my power," he said, all solicitous concern, and he leaned over and eased the ribbons from her hands so that he was now driving the phaeton. Henry sat back and rested her hands in her lap.
"It is Giles again," she began, and she told him the whole story, as it had happened the previous day. When she had finished, there was silence for a while. She realized that Cranshawe had guided the horses into a path that was not as heavily used as the main one, which was always crowded with horses and vehicles at this hour of the day. She smiled at him in gratitude.
"Is that all?" he asked. "That is the whole matter?" She nodded. "But, my dear Henry, there is no problem at all. I shall give you the money. It is the merest trifle, I assure you.
"Oh, I could not possibly!" she cried. "No, Oliver, I could not be so beholden to you or to any man."
"Nonsense, my dear," he assured her. "We shall call it a loan, though I shall have no real desire to recover the money. You may repay it when and as you wish. It need not weigh upon your mind at all."
Henry hesitated. "It is uncommon generous of you, she said doubtfully, "but it does not seem right, Oliver."
"Henry," he said, drawing the horses to a halt and taking one of her hands in his free one, "I am your husband's cousin and his heir. I am family. And I have a personal devotion to you that I shall not embarrass you by relating now. Please, allow me to help you and your brother. I should consider it a signal honor."
Henry looked steadily into his eyes. "I will accept, Oliver, she said, "but only on condition that the money be considered a loan. I will not accept a gift from you."
"I accept a gift from you in being the recipient of your trust," he said softly, raising the hand he still held to his lips. He lifted,-the reins and started the horses forward again as they both became aware of a lone rider cantering toward them.
Eversleigh!
"Damn!" Cranshawe swore under his breath. "I shall wait on you tomorrow morning at eleven with the money," he said hurriedly to Henry.
"Ah, my love, I was fearful that you might have had some mishap when you did not return to the main path immediately," Eversleigh said amiably as his horse drew abreast of the phaeton. "Good day, Oliver," he added, nodding briefly in the direction of his heir. "Horses all lame today?"
"Not at all, Marius," Oliver replied hastily. "I considered the day particularly suited to exercise on foot."
"Ah, then it is uncommon civil of you, dear boy, to abandon your exercise in order to keep her Grace company," Eversleigh said, viewing his cousin through his quizzing glass.
"It is always a pleasure to converse with Henry," Cranshawe replied irritably. When the duke made no move either to lower his quizzing glass or to resume his own ride, his heir was forced to turn to Henry. "Thank you for taking me up, cousin," he said. "I must leave you now. I am meeting some friends in under an hour."
"Good day, Oliver," she replied gravely, and watched him jump down and walk away in the direction of the northern gate of the park. She returned her gaze to her husband, who had lowered his quizzing glass.
"Indeed, my love, I feel most vexed that I am not on foot today. I should enjoy riding up beside you," Eversleigh said languidly. "That is a most fetching bonnet. Is it new?"
"Yes, it is," she replied airily, "and since I must wear a bonnet, I determine to buy any that take my fancy."
"Quite so," he agreed. "I believe it was a milliner's bill that almost gave James an apoplexy this morning." Henry dimpled. "But I must say, my love, that this one was worth every penny. There was hardly a male head in the main avenue that did not turn in admiration, or a female one that did not turn in envy."
"You are funning me, Marius," she said, giggling. "But I did not see you.'
"No," he agreed dryly, "a mere husband has small chance of making his presence felt in such a crush of admirers."
"Absurd!" she said, laughing, the embarrassment of a few minutes before forgotten. "Are you riding my way, your Grace?"
"No, I am not," he replied. "I have a call that must be made before I return home. I shall see you later, my love."
"Good-bye,. Marius," she said, and gave her grays the signal to start.
Eversleigh, watching her go before turning his horse in the opposite direction, had a still, brooding look on his face.
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Henry contrived to be alone in the downstairs salon by eleven o'clock the next morning. It had not been easy. Marius had lingered in the office of his secretary until just half an hour before. Henry had considered all manner of ideas for persuading him to leave the house. Fortunately, none was necessary, though she was all but hopping up and down with vexation when he took what seemed a lingering farewell of her in her room.
"You did not ride this morning, my love? Or yesterday morning either?"
"No, I did not feel like the exercise," she replied.
"What, Henry, are you becoming too ladylike for such pursuits?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"Pooh!" she replied scornfully. "What could be more ladylike than mincing along at a sober trot in a sidesaddle?"
"Ah, I forget," he said gently, "it is neck or nothing for you, is it not, my love?"
She smiled. "I must not keep you, Marius," she said, rising purposefully from the stool before her dressing-table mirror. "You must be anxious to be on your way."
"Must I?" he answered meekly. "I did wish to speak with you, Henry, but it can wait until later if you are in such a dreadful hurry."
"I must check the schoolroom," she declared firmly, and make sure that Oscar is securely in his cage again. I would not want him escaping anymore."
"No, indeed," he agreed. "I might have trouble finding a chef in England willing to work here if that worthy bird finds his way to the kitchen and asks them all what the stink is."
She giggled. "The poor man was furious, was he not? I must go up, Marius."
"Yes, I see you must," he replied. "And I see that I must be going. I shall talk with you later, my love."
Henry really did go up to the schoolroom, mainly to ensure that Miss Manford and the twins were safely occupied. They were, and Oscar, in disgrace, was reposing fairly quietly beneath his pink blanket.
Cranshawe arrived promptly. Henry was standing tensely, her back to the fireplace, when the butler announced him. He strode across the room to her, looking handsome and purposeful, she noted. He took her cold hand in his and raised it to his lips.
"Good morning, Henry," he greeted her, his charming smile muted by a warm sympathy. "I came as soon as I could, for I knew you would be anxious to be done with this business and to set your brother's mind at ease."