“And when he has promised me that, I can come home?”
“Of course.”
“And you will miss me?”
The very feminine question seemed to remind the Marquis that he was dealing with a woman. He put out his hand and put it under her chin, then tilted her head back and looked into her eyes.
“I shall not allow myself to think of you,” he said quietly, “or I might be jealous.”
It was the most revealing thing he had ever said to her and she was unable to prevent the elation she felt at his words from shining in her eyes. He saw she was triumphant at what she imagined was a revelation of weakness, and he laughed.
“One day, my dear, you may fall in love,” he said. “It might be an amusing experience.”
“But I am in love,” Beatrice protested, “with you.”
The Marquis shook his head.
“You are in love wi
