“What? Oh, of course. You must be exhausted.”
Sylvia nodded absently. The Duke now put down his magnifying glass and gazed at her, just for a moment distracted from his new found pleasure.
“You – fighting fit, my girl?”
“Fighting fit, papa.”
“And – happy?”
Sylvia lifted her head. There was a long pause and then at last she gave a nod.
“Yes, Papa,” she said.
Happy!
*
The next morning, after a somewhat sleepless night, Sylvia went down to the stables to see Columbine.
Columbine thrust her brown head over the top of her stall and whinnied with pleasure.
When the Duchess had so hurriedly fetched her stepdaughter away from Farron Towers, poor Columbine had been left behind. Since Sylvia and the Duchess left for London the very next day, it had been over a fortnight since Columbine ha
