CHAPTER NINE“You look sad, dearest,” Maria remarked as Gretna sighed for perhaps the third time as she stood at the window watching the carriages pass round St. James’s Square.
“Oh, but I am not,” Gretna replied with forced gaiety. “How could you think me so ungracious and ungrateful when you are so kind to me and there are so many amusements filling every hour of the day?”
In answer Maria put out her hand and drew Gretna towards her so that they sat side by side on the satin-covered sofa.
“I love having you here,” she murmured softly. “And you really are the belle of every ball I take you to. Yet sometimes I have a suspicion that your heart is heavy and you are not as happy as you appear.”
“Oh, but I am – I am,” Gretna protested.
And yet, even while she lied and was ashamed of tellin
