That night, when he went to say ‘good night’ to her as he usually did, he sat down on the edge of the bed and said,
“Listen, Anthea, Charlie was telling me today that, when the Marquis comes down at the end of the week, you are not to meet him.”
Anthea laughed.
“I never thought I should. Are you expecting him to invite me to dinner?”
“No, of course not,” Harry answered quickly. “I was only thinking that while he is in residence you must not go riding or walking in the Park and, of course, on no account are you to go to Queen’s Hoo.”
“I know what is worrying you,” Anthea said. “Because we rather resemble each other, he might, if he sees me, be suspicious that you are not Mr. Dalton.”
Harry had accepted this explanation with relief.
“Yes, of course,” he agreed. “That is what I was thi
