chapter fourIdona went down the stairs to dinner feeling apprehensive.
She had half-hoped that the Marquis would not expect her to dine with him and Clarice Clairmont.
They had walked from her mother’s sitting room into the library and the morning room and on towards the drawing room.
“What time is dinner?” the Marquis asked.
“When my father was alive, my Lord, we usually dined at seven-thirty, but if you would like it later – ?”
“Seven-thirty will suit me,” the Marquis replied before she could say anything more.
Then, as they reached the drawing room, Idona said in a hesitating voice,
“I-I feel perhaps you would prefer to dine with Miss Clairmont – alone, so I – will have my – dinner elsewhere.”
The Marquis raised his eyebrows.
“Is that what you think I wish,” he asked, “or what
