A Matter of Honor by Nina Coombs Pykare Page B

was clear that they were not thinking of any honorable connection. This had become clear to her as she was speaking to this last woman and Aggie flushed scarlet to the roots of her hair an d started to move away. But the offender had grabbed her arm. “I didn’t mean to put you to the blush, my dear. But at your age - After all, we must take advantage of our opportunities.”
    Aggie had only been able to nod. Finally, spying a friend, the other woman had released her and trotted off.
    Now, remembering, Aggie took a deep breath. She had to accept this as she accepted the rest. She had nowhere to run - no hiding place, no comforter, no partner in life. The man who had been supposed to take that place in her life had not done so. She must fend for herself. She tried to wrench her mind away from those terrible women and concentrate on Cecilie and what was happening to her.
    As she stood looking out over the dance floor, she felt a presence behind her. Without turning, she knew instantly that Denby stood there, his eyes fastened upon her. She forced herself to remain still. S h e did not want to get into any contention with him; or to have him argue with Cecilie . So far things had been going along quite well. Aggie wanted them to continue to do so.
    Denby took the step that brought him up beside her. He stood so close that the arm of his coat brushed the sleeve of her gown. “It seems to be going well, does it not?” he said conversationally.
    “Very well, milord,” replied Aggie , her eyes still on the floor.
    “Do you think Cecilie has seen anyone she finds suitable?”
    Aggie shook her head. “I think not.” She forced herself to turn and face him. “You must understand Cecilie. She is very young. She wants a young man. Someone to have fun with.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.
    “Fun?” said the Earl in a tone of disbelief, his eyes clouding over. “My acquaintance with the institution of matrimony is limited and is not of a f i rsthand nature,” he said somewhat dryly. “But never have I heard of anyone who was leg-shackled merely for the fun of it!”
    “Cecilie is young,” Aggie repeated. “Her mother died when she was still a babe. She has little idea of the reality of marriage.”
    “Have you considered informing her?” asked the Earl in the same dry tones.
    “Of course I have. But Cecilie only learns from experience; words of advice have very little effect on her.”
    The Earl sighed. “I must have been daft or in my cups to take on the guardianship of such a creature. Thank God I have no daughters of my own who will somedayreach this obnoxious condition.”
    “If you had daughters, milord,” replied Aggie over the lump in her throat, “I am conf i dent you’d do better at raising them than Cecilie’s papa did.”
    His eyes reflected amazement. “You are? I should have thought you’d pity the poor things for having a tyrant for a papa.”
    Aggie allowed herself a small smile. “A tyrant, if he be consistent in his tyranny, can be lived with,” she declared. “When a man is swayed by tears and pouts, a young person becomes quite spoiled and self-indulgent. And if he runs now hot, now cold - first persuadable and then not - his children may be very disturbed; for there is no consistency in their lives.”
    The Earl’s eyes were suddenly warm. “You have a great knowledge of children,” he said in a voice of admiration.
    “It is a necessary prerequisite for a governess-companion,” replied Aggie, losing herself in the warm depths of his gaze.
    And then, just as he leaned toward her confidentially, just as he seemed about to say something very important, there was the rustle of satin and the sound of a deep husky voice. “There you are, Denby , you bad boy. Come. Since you refuse to let them play any waltzes, you must dance this quadrille with me.”
    Before she turned, Aggie knew that the voice belonged to Lady Alicia Temple. For one long moment his lordship’s eyes still