"May we get down?" Rupert demanded. "Oh, just wait until Uncle Maurice hears about this."

'' We may," the marquess said. He looked across at Judith for the first time. The moss green of her bonnet and velvet cloak became her well, he thought. "Shall I instruct my coachman to return in two hours' time, ma'am?"

"As you wish," she said.

Two hours should be long enough for a start, he thought. He must not be impatient.

But the time passed quickly. There were vendors of everything one might want to buy from lace to boots, from books to smelling salts. And hawkers to persuade a person that he needed an item he had never felt a need of before. There were the tempting aromas of roasted lamb and pork pies and tarts and chestnuts and the less tempting one of cheap ale. And there were fortune-tellers and portrait painters and card playing booths and skittle alleys. There was everything one could possibly imagine for the entertainment of all.

Amy was enjoying herself. She was in London and at the very heart of its life and activity. And she was not alone but with her sister-in-law and nephew and niece. And they had the escort of a handsome gentleman. She felt more light-hearted than she had felt for years.

"I am going to have my fortune told,'' she announced recklessly when they came to the fortune-teller's booth.

Judith smiled at her.

"There can be nothing but good ahead for you, ma'am," the marquess said gallantly.

Amy stepped inside the dark tent and gazed about, fascinated. Oh, she had always loved fairs, though more often than not after her early girlhood she had been refused permission to go.

She sat down before the gaudy, veiled figure of the fortuneteller with her crystal ball and waited expectantly, feeling like a hopeful girl again and smiling inwardly at the thought.

But she was feeling disappointed a minute later-the fortune-teller must have mistaken her age, she thought-but only a little disappointed. She was in the land of make-believe and she refused to allow reality to intrude too chillingly.

Romance, the fortune-teller had predicted. With a gentleman she had not met yet but would meet soon. And children -lots of them. That was the detail that was most disappointing, since it was so obviously the most impossible.

But no matter. She would dream of her gentleman in the coming days and laugh herself out of melancholy when he failed to put in an appearance in her life. There was a whole fair waiting to be enjoyed outside the tent.

"Thank you," she said formally, getting to her feet.

"How very foolish," she said, laughing and blushing when she rejoined the others. "I am to find love and romance soon, it seems, with a gentleman I have never before set my eyes on, and am to live happily ever after. I wonder if she ever says anything different to any lady who is unmarried. One would, after all, feel that one had wasted one's money if one were told that there were only misery and loneliness ahead.'' She said nothing about the many children.

"Perhaps we should put the matter to the test," the marquess said. "Mrs. Easton must have her fortune told too."

"I have no wish to waste money on such nonsense," Judith said.

"Then I shall waste it for you," he said. "Come, we must find what delights life has in store for you."

"Yes, Mama,'' Rupert said, jumping up and down on the spot. "Go on."

"Go, Mama," Kate said.

She looked rather as if she were going to her own execution, the marquess thought, but she went. He in the meanwhile swung Rupert up onto his shoulders when the boy complained that he could not see for the crowds.

"You were quite right, Amy," Judith said when she came out of the tent. "My own fortune was remarkably similar to yours. As if I am looking for love and romance at this stage of my life!" Her tone was scornful.

"And what is he to look like?" Amy asked.

"Oh, tall, dark, and handsome, of course," Judith said, flushing. "What else?"

"Well, there our fortunes differ," Amy said. "Now it is your turn, my lord."

"It would be interesting, would knot?" he said. "I wonder how many tall, dark, and handsome ladies there are in England?"

Amy laughed.

"Down you go, then, my lad," the marquess said, setting Rupert down on the ice again. "I shall take you up again when I come out."

"I see much darkness in your life," the fortune-teller told him a few moments later. "And a great deal of light too. A great deal of light. But the darkness threatens it."

Lord Denbigh had never been to a fortune-teller before. He supposed that there were a few fortunes to be told and that each listener could be relied upon to twist the words to suit his own case. One merely had to be clever with vague generalities. He was amused.

"Ah," the fortune-teller said, "but Christmas may save you if you keep in mind that it is a time of peace and goodwill. I see a great battle raging in your soul between light and darkness. But the joy of Christmas will help the light to banish the darkness-if you do not fight too strongly against it."

Well. That was it? Nothing about romance and love and marriage and happily-ever-afters? That was to be reserved exclusively for the female customers? He rose and nodded to the fortune-teller. It would be a kindness to tell her, perhaps, that if all her women customers were to find the romance she promised them, then men should be alerted to their needs.

"Nothing," he said to the ladies when he went outside again. "There is to be no romance in my future, alas. Only the promise of a happy Christmas if I do not do something to spoil the occasion."

"Ah," Amy said. "How disappointing, my lord. But I am glad that you can expect a good Christmas."

He leaned down and swung Rupert up onto his shoulders again, Judith watched him, her lips tightening.

The marquess bought the children each a tart and all of them a hot drink of chocolate. And when Kate spotted a stall that sold ribbons, he bought her long lengths of green and red over Judith's protests and Amy's exclamations on his kindness.

"It amazes me," Amy said when they paused to watch the portrait painter draw his likenesses, "how he can hold the charcoal and wield it so skillfully without freezing his fingers off. But the portraits are quite well done.''

"Have your picture drawn with your good lady, guv'nor?" the artist's assistant asked, looking from the marquess to Judith. "And with the lovely children too, if you want, guv. 'Alf a sovereign for all four of you."

"No, thank you," Judith said quickly.

Rupert shouted with glee from his perch on the marquess's shoulders. "He is not our father," he exclaimed to the assistant.

Kate was tugging at Judith's cloak.

"Mama," she said when Judith looked down, "may I have my picture?"

"Your portrait done?" Judith said, smiling down at her and passing a hand beneath her chin. "You would have to sit very still and would get very cold."

"No longer than five minutes, mum," the assistant assured her briskly. "The child's likeness in five minutes, satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. Two and sixpence for the child, murn."

"A shilling," the marquess said. "One and sixpence if it is a good likeness."

"Done, guv," the assistant said. "And worth two shillings it will be if it's worth a penny. Let the little lady take a chair."

Kate smiled wonderingly up at the marquess and her mother and aunt and allowed Judith to seat her on the chair indicated. And she sat very still, her feet dangling a few inches above the ice, her hands clasped in her lap, only her eyes moving.

"How sweet she looks," Amy said. "Would you like to be next, Rupert?"

“Pooh,'' the boy said. "I don't want to sit for my picture.'' But he did squirm to be set down so that he could walk around to the side of the artist and watch the progress of the portrait.