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felt obliged to attend, as it would have been too unkind not to do so.
    The beauty in question was fair, blue-eyed, very English and undoubtedly most attractive.
    Yet all through luncheon, despite the best attentions of six of his most intimate friends, the Marquis kept visualising the dark hair of the Contessa.
    The glint of fire in her green eyes was completely unforgettable.
    Because the party was so amusing, the conversation witty and the food and drink excellent, no one wished to leave.
    Only the Marquis became aware that after a while his hostess was longing to be rid of her other guests, as she wanted to be alone with him.
    It was the one confrontation he wished to avoid, but no one made a move to leave.
    It was half past three when he rose to his feet and there was a little cry of resentment when he did so.
    â€œYou are not leaving us so soon, Rake?” asked the beauty he had found so attractive three months ago.
    â€œI am afraid I have to go,” he replied. “I do have an appointment at precisely four o’clock this afternoon and I must not be late.”
    She now looked at him reproachfully and with what he knew was also a look of despair.
    He was very conscious that she was counting on this moment for them to be alone and she was obviously thinking that she could make him as ardent in his pursuit of her as he had been last February.
    â€œForgive me,” said the Marquis as he took her hand in his. “I am very grateful to you for all your kindness.”
    For a second her fingers clung to his.
    She knew he was saying goodbye and she wanted to throw herself on her knees and beg him not to go.
    Just for one second they looked into each other’s eyes and then the Marquis moved away towards the door.
    Outside, as he stepped into his chaise and picked up the reins, he knew he had escaped lightly. He was afraid of tears and recriminations and the inevitable question,
    â€œWhat have I done to lose your love?”
    He had heard those words so often.
    Yet he had never intended to hurt any woman, let alone one who had given him her heart. He thought of himself as a kind man and definitely an honourable one.
    It was just that inevitably he found, after quite a short time, the women he chose bored him.
    It was something he had fought against, something he told himself he was not feeling – yet he did.
    He could never explain to himself why, when they had all seemed wildly attractive, desirable and passionately exciting, they could suddenly become so banal.
    He knew before they spoke what they were going to say and that knowledge, he reasoned, was the real reason why they bored him.
    It was impossible for him to pretend that he was not bored when he was.
    Now as he drove his chaise away from the house he had visited so often, he realised that he would never go back and there was nothing he could do to make the parting less poignant than it had been.
    Then as he turned his horses down Bond Street, he felt that inevitable sparkle of excitement coursing through his veins.
    He was chasing something new, something thrilling that was entirely different.
    It was a sensation he always felt at the beginning of an affaire-de-coeur , only to find far too quickly and before he was even ready for it that the chase was over.
    He had known last night that the few words he had spoken to the Contessa had ignited a little fire inside him.
    She had told him that there was something sensational for him to uncover, which would be different from anything he had known before.
    He could not imagine what it could be, but there was always a chance it would be fantastic.
    He was not certain what he was looking for or what he desired and yet he was drawn, as if by a magnet, to the temptress with green eyes who was waiting for him.
    When he reached The Langham , he drew his horses up outside the front entrance and as he handed his reins over to the hotel groom, he ordered,
    â€œCome back in an hour and a