‘He is really quite pleased,’ she thought, ‘that I am to marry Lord Locke and that the two estates are to be joined.’
It seemed wrong to deceive what was a dying man.
She persuaded herself, however, that it was excusable.
Nothing could be more ghastly than to be married to either Vincent or Jonathan.
“If you’re a-goin’ out to dinner, miss, what gown are you goin’ to wear?” the housemaid who always looked after her asked.
It was then that Gytha awoke to a cold reality.
She would be attending a very fashionable dinner party with Lord Locke’s friends and she had nothing suitable to wear.
There had never been any point in buying any elegant gowns and, even if she could have persuaded her grandfather to provide them for her, there had seemed to be no need.
There had been nowhere for her
