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that he should not visit her room for the following five nights. She had even forgotten herself enough on that occasion to call him “my lord” again. He had not drawn her attention to the lapse.
    Lisa had turned her head into his shoulder and was nuzzling his neck, biting the skin lightly with her small teeth. She purred like a cat.
    “Richard, my love, I swear you are a wild animal today,” she sighed contentedly. “I shall be covered with bruises tomorrow.”
    “My apologies,” Brampton replied coldly. He pulled his arm from beneath her body and rolled off the bed. He stood up and began to dress, wrinkling his nose distastefully at the smell of her perfume on his skin.
    “I shall not be visiting here again, Lisa,” he heard himself saying. He had certainly not planned to say any such thing.
    “What!” she exclaimed from the bed behind him.
    “I am a married man,” he said. “I owe my wife better than this. The house is yours, of course, and all its furnishings. I shall arrange with my man of business to make a settlement on you. I am sure you will find it satisfactory.”
    He dressed quickly and left the house while she was still crying and pleading. He did not feel very proud of himself.
    * * *
    Charlotte sat down beside Margaret on the drawing-room sofa. She stretched her legs out straight ahead of her and rested her head against a soft cushion.
    “Oh, Meg,” she sighed, “this is so exciting and so tiring, is it not?”
    “Are you pleased, love?” her sister replied, smiling gently and glancing up from her embroidery. “You certainly seem to have made an impression. All the young men were clamoring to dance with you last night. I do believe Richard was almost disappointed. He was fully prepared to lead you out himself if there was any danger of your being a wallflower.”
    “And three calls from admirers this afternoon!” Charlotte exclaimed with an artless lack of modesty. “And all these flowers, Meg.” She looked around at the posies and bouquets that had been delivered that morning, all from young men she had met the night before.
    Margaret smiled again. “I am so happy for you, Lottie. I can remember how exciting my own first Season was.”
    Charlotte must have detected the wistful note in her sister’s voice. She immediately sat up straight and regarded her sister intently.
    “Meg, I wish you would not sit there so calmly at your needlework and wearing that oh-so-stupid cap, just like a—a—”
    “Matron?”
    “Yes, like a matron. You are a bride, Meg,” her sister cried passionately. “What is the matter? You and Lord Brampton behave as if you have been wed for years. And I was sure that you would suit admirably. You aren’t happy, are you, Meg?”
    Margaret winced. Her sister had all the bluntness of extreme youth. “Of course I am happy,” she said soothingly. “Why ever would I not be?”
    “No, you aren’t. You do not even try to make yourself pleasing to my brother-in-law,” Charlotte accused. “I mean, really pleasing. Has he ever seen you without your hair braided? Has he ever seen you laugh? Oh, Meg, I love you dearly, but why must you hide your real self? I know you are the loveliest, sweetest, warmest person in the world.” And she impulsively moved along the sofa and hugged her sister.
    “It is no good, Lottie,” Margaret said mildly. “You cannot turn this marriage into the grand romance. It is a marriage like most of the other marriages of people of our kind—no worse.”
    “Ah, but, Meg, you did love once, did you not?” Charlotte asked.
    “Yes, once—when I was very young and very foolish.”
    “I do not believe you were ever foolish, Meg,” her sister said, gazing at Margaret loyally. She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Do you love him still, Meg?”
    Margaret’s fingers paused over her work. “Yes,” she said.
    “Who was he, Meg?”
    There was a longer pause. “Richard,” Margaret said.
    “What?”
    Margaret resumed her sewing. “It