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life he was totally ignorant. He supposed she must be grateful, but deep in the hidden places of his mind a hurt child looked out and thought: She will look at my face and she will despise me. That child had kept him from ever allowing himself to have serious intentions toward a woman. Indeed, he was never at ease with any female outside his family. Now, he unconsciously armored himself in his arrogance, and his mother’s heart sank as she saw his cold, stiff face.
    Miss Fell sat in a chair by the fire, with her back to the door. No less nervous than Richard, she nevertheless seemed calm and composed; and no one could have guessed from her appearance that she felt like an intruder. However warm and accepting the ladies were, she was sure her presence must be less than welcome to the master of the house. Indeed, Lucy had dropped several hints as to her brother’s feelings, vaguely hoping to lessen the shock to her dear friend in case he should let her see his disapproval.
    At least, Miss Fell thought, there is a vast improvement in my appearance. Lucy had described her pallid, bloodstained arrival with ghoulish enjoyment. Now she was dressed in a green wrapper of Lady Annabel’s (“It does not become me in the least, my dear, but green is quite your color”). Her hair had been vigorously brushed by Lucy’s maid and arranged simply in a loose chignon. The scar on her brow was now a thin white line, scarcely visible, and her hair covered the bruise, which was fading rapidly. Lucy thought she looked charming, interestingly pale, and only her tightly clasped hands suggested to Lady Annabel that she was not at ease.
    Lady Annabel led her reluctant son forward. “Miss Fell, I must make known to you my son, Richard Carstairs.”
    Miss Fell held out her hand and raised her eyes to his face. Richard, prepared to bow coldly, met her eyes, shyly smiling, and took her hand in both his.
    “I am delighted to see you so much recovered,” he stammered.
    “I owe you my life, Mr. Carstairs,” she said simply. “There is no way I can ever thank you.”
    “Pray do not try, Miss Fell. I could hardly have left you lying in the snow.”
    Lucy giggled. “Last year he brought home an early lamb that was half frozen to death.”
    “I am properly put in my place,” declared Miss Fell, chuckling.
    It was the wrong thing to say. Richard stiffened and let go her hand, which he had forgotten he was holding. She cast him a quick glance of appeal, but he was not looking at her. Her hands again clasped tightly in her lap.
    “Well,” said Richard with an effort, “if you are to go below stairs this morning, let us have done with it.”
    Lucy helped her friend to stand. Awkwardly, and furious with himself, Richard picked her up in his arms, carefully avoiding her eyes. She blushed to feel him holding her and trembled a little with tension and embarrassment.
    Richard felt her shiver and looked down at her. She smiled up at him timidly and apologetically, and there was a lost look in her eyes. He cursed himself for distressing her. Had she not enough troubles without his adding to them? He should rather be solving her problems than causing new ones. His arms tightened about her involuntarily.
    “I shall not drop you,” he reassured gently, and his eyes now begged her forgiveness.
    Miss Fell relaxed and watched his face as he carried her along the passage and down the stairway. How strange, she pondered; as long as he can think of me as a sick lamb, he is kindness itself; yet as soon as he considers my position, he becomes as haughty as a duke. He is very handsome in a stern sort of way. I wonder if he ever smiles? Lucy seems very fond of him and she is so lively. He must be a good brother. If I have any brothers, I hope they are as kind as he, she thought wistfully, and that I may find them soon.
    Richard set her down on a sofa close to the fire in the morning room, and she was introduced to Lord Denham.
    “Delighted to see you up and about,