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was a dreadful snub. After wondering aloud and plaintively what could have possibly happened to disaffect him, Lady Beverley had fallen into a miserable silence.
    When they arrived back, Lizzie would have followed Belinda to her room, but Belinda said, ‘Not tonight, Lizzie. I am too depressed and too tired.’
    Belinda lay awake for a long time, writhing with mortification. How could she have been so silly? When Lord St. Clair next called, she would drop her act and be herself again.
    *      *      *
    But a week passed and Lord St. Clair did not call. But he thought of Belinda often, not in anyamorous way, but he regretted losing this important fashion accessory. He remembered all the admiring stares in the park. No one had given him an admiring stare since then. Not even his new bottle-green coat with the wide lapels and high buckram-wadded shoulders and silver buttons had drawn so much as a glance.
    But still he would not have approached Belinda again had not matters taken a dangerous turn.
    He was summoned again by his father.
    ‘As you know, I sent Perry to Mannerling to make sure everything was running smoothly,’ said the earl, waving a letter in his son’s delicately painted face. ‘He has done a marvellous job and has come up with some excellent plans for the place. Perhaps I should let him have the estate.’
    Lord St. Clair went a trifle pale under his paint. ‘Can’t do that, Pa. I’m your heir.’
    ‘I don’t think you will be for much longer, m’boy. You seem to have done nothing about finding a bride. I heard you were seen with that shiner, Belinda Beverley.’
    Lord St. Clair’s not usually agile brain suddenly began to work ferociously. He was about to tell his father all about the scheming Beverleys, but his father would then think him even more of a fool. After all, Belinda Beverley was admired. Married to her, he could point out she had gained what she wanted—Mannerling—and then go cheerfully on his own hedonistic way.
    ‘As a matter of fact,’ said Lord St. Clair, ‘that was something I meant to put to you. Belinda Beverley is all that is suitable and her family used to have Mannerling before old Beverley went to Queer Street and lost everything. She’ll know all the tenants and useful things like that and all the local county. Thought of going to Mannerling in a couple of weeks’ time and inviting the fair Belinda and her mother down. Little house party. Can’t woo with Perry around, so tell him to quit the place sharpish.’
    The earl looked at his son in amazement. ‘Well, I declare, you have some of the right stuff in you after all! Go to it, m’boy. You have my blessing.’
    ‘Thank you, Pa,’ said his son meekly. ‘But get rid of Perry!’
    *      *      *
    Barry Wort had heard reports of what was going on at Mannerling. One morning, shortly after he and Miss Trumble had arrived back at Brookfield House, he said, ‘I gather he’s the Honourable Peregrine Vane.’
    ‘Have you heard good reports of him?’ asked Miss Trumble. They were standing by the cabbage plot and she drew her shawl more closely about her shoulders, for the day was cold with an irritating, blustery wind.
    ‘The servants do say he might end up the owner of Mannerling after all. The gossip runs that Earl Durbridge favours this Mr. Vane as a sensible fellow while sometimes despairing of his son. I have heard no bad reports of Mr. Vane.’
    ‘I confess I am curious, Barry. Perhaps Mr. Vane would be a more suitable parti for Belinda. I wish I could think of some reason for calling.’
    Barry leaned on his spade and furrowed his brow. At last his face cleared. ‘You could say that Lady Beverley left a shawl there when she last called.’
    Miss Trumble laughed. ‘Excellent. We shall go to Mannerling this afternoon, Barry.’
    *      *      *
    That afternoon Perry, on receiving the intelligence that the Beverleys’ governess had called, was about to tell the footman to