"Then, since you are so ungallant, sir, pray tell me what you purpose doing with me?" The tone was light, even bantering, but with his marvellous, almost uncanny perspicacity, he sensed the breathless terror behind it.
"Why, my dear, I had planned to marry you," he answered, bowing.
The knuckles gleamed white on her clenched hand.
"And if I refuse?"
"I do not think you will refuse, my dear."
She could not repress a shiver.
"I do refuse!" she cried sharply.
The smile with which he received this statement drove the blood cold in her veins.
"Wait. I think you will be glad to marry me-in the end," he drawled.
Her great eyes were hunted, desperate, and her face was very white. The dry lips parted.
"I think-you will be-very sorry-when my father-comes."
The indulgent sneer brought the blood racing back to her cheeks.
"And he will come!"
His Grace was politely interested.
"Really? But I do not doubt it, Diana, an he knows where to come."
"He will find a way, never fear!"
She laughed with a confidence she was far from feeling.
"I do not fear-not in the least-I shall be delighted to welcome him," promised his Grace. "I do not anticipate a refusal of your hand from him."
"No?" Diana, too, could sneer.
"No, my dear. Not after a little-persuasion."
"Who are you?" she shot at him.
His shoulders shook in the soundless laugh peculiar to him.
"I am several people, child."
"So I apprehend," she retorted smoothly. "Sir Hugh Grandison amongst them?"
"Ah, you have guessed that?"
"It rather leaps to the eye, sir." She spoke in what was almost an exact imitation of his sarcastic tone.
"True. It was neatly done, I flatter myself."
"Quite marvellous, indeed."
He was enjoying her as he had rarely enjoyed a woman before. Others had sobbed and implored, railed and raved; he had never till now met one who returned him word for word, using his own weapons against him.
"Who else have you the honour to be?" she asked, stifling a yawn.
"I am Mr. Everard, child, and Duke of Andover."
Then she turned her head and looked at him with glittering eyes.
"I have heard of you, sir," she said, evenly.
"You are like to hear more, my dear."
"That is as may be, your Grace."
Now she understood the elaborate hilt of the mysterious sword with the coronet on it, wrought in jewels. She wondered whether Jack had it still, wherever he was. If only some wonderful providence would bring him to her now in her dire need! There was no one to strike a blow for her; she was entirely at the mercy of a ruthless libertine, whose reputation she knew well, and whose presence filled her with dread and a speechless loathing. She felt very doubtful that her father would succeed in finding her. If only Jack were in England! He would come to her, she knew.