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News of Elizabeth's return spread quickly, and most of her acquaintances paid a visit to the Rowe house within the next few days. All of them were driven to a certain extent by curiosity. News of her real identity and exalted rank had not escaped anyone's ears. All, though, were brought equally by a genuine affection for Elizabeth, who had won respect during her years as Cecily's governess and companion.

Lucy and Ferdie Worthing were the first to call the day after Elizabeth's return. Ferdie greeted her with courtesy, but it was clear that the real object of his visit was Cecily. Elizabeth watched with some amusement as the girl reacted with impatience and contempt to his account of a cockfight that he had attended the day before. He answered her just as sharply. Soon they were in the throes of a full-scale squabble. Elizabeth wondered if they would ever achieve a more tranquil relationship. It was difficult to tell if they loved each other well enough to consider matrimony at some time in the future. But it did not matter. They were both mere children. They had time.

Lucy was making stilted conversation. They soon exhausted the topics of the weather, Elizabeth's health, and that of all her family. The girl stammered her way through an account of the Reverend Claridge's sermon the previous Sunday. Elizabeth finally decided that she must intervene.

"Miss Worthing," she said, "do you not know me? I am Elizabeth Rossiter, with whom you have been most comfortable these several years past. Are you shy with me now because of the story you have heard about me?"

Lucy darted her a glance and blushed. "I am sorry," she said. "I cannot forget, you see, that you are the Marchioness of Hetherington. And I do not even know what I should call you."

"You must call me what you have always called me," I Elizabeth said laughingly. "I was a marchioness when you first knew me, Lucy, and I have not changed since then. It is just a word, you know. I have never really acted the part of such a grand lady, and I have no wish to do so."

"Oh, but are you very unhappy?" Lucy asked. "The marquess is such a very dazzling man. I like him. Does it not hurt you to live apart from him?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Not at all," she lied. "Our marriage happened a long time ago, Miss Worthing, and lasted but a very short while. We have both made a new life since. Now we are no more than strangers."

"I do beg your pardon," Lucy said. "I should not have asked you these questions. But, you see, I cannot imagine marrying someone and then leaving him. Was yours an arranged marriage?"

"I am afraid we do not even have that excuse," Elizabeth replied. "No, at the time we supposed it to be a love match."

"I do not understand," Lucy said. "When Ira and I marry, we shall be blissfully happy for the rest of our lives."

"And I hope you are right," Elizabeth replied fervently. "Your attachment to Mr. Dowling still exists, then?"

The girl's face lit up so that she looked almost pretty for a moment. "He has decided that he will spend the winter in London too, Miss Rossiter, so that we may see each other occasionally. It is a great sacrifice for him, because he hates the city, but we cannot bear to be apart for several months, you see." She giggled. "Mama will be furious when she knows."

The quarrel between the other two occupants of the room could no Longer be ignored.

"Cruel!" Ferdie scoffed. "What's cruel about matching two cocks to fight each other, Cec? They have an equal chance."

"Indeed it is cruel," Cecily cried, "when you know that one of them must die."

"You're too softhearted," Ferdie said indulgently.

"And you are a hard-hearted brute," she shot back.

"Cut line, Cec," he said, nettled. "All I did is watch, for goodness' sake. Next you will be trying to tell me that fox hunting is cruel."

"And so it is," Cecily replied, her eyes flashing a challenge to battle.

Lucy rose. "Ferdie, we must go," she said hastily. "You know that Mrs. Claridge and Anne are coming to tea and we promised Mama that we would be back."

Ferdie bowed distantly to Cecily. "There is no reasoning with you when you get into one of these silly moods, anyway, Cec," he said. "I shall see you when you have cooled off."

"I do not enjoy conversing with persons who condone the killing of innocent animals," she replied loftily, and proceeded to take a warm farewell of Lucy, to show Ferdie just what he was missing.

Mr. Mainwaring called the following afternoon while Elizabeth was helping Cecily make arrangements of the flowers they had cut from the garden. Both of them quickly removed their large aprons and smoothed their hair into place when summoned to the drawing room by Mrs. Rowe.

He rose to his feet when they entered the room and greeted both warmly. He asked politely about Elizabeth's journey and about the health of her nephew. The conversation became general for a while.

Finally Mr. Mainwaring turned to Elizabeth and asked if she would care to take a short drive with him, provided that Mrs. Rowe could spare her, of course. Mrs. Rowe was all smiling acquiescence.

Elizabeth went to her room for her bonnet. It was a perfect late-summer day, with sunshine and the merest suggestion of a breeze. She did not need a pelisse to wear over her gray cotton dress.

They drove out along the country road away from the town. Elizabeth soon had the impression that he drove without any destination in mind. It was good to be with him again. She felt none of the heightened awareness and self-consciousness that she experienced with Hetherington. She felt relaxed, as with a friend.

After several minutes he smiled down at her. "It is good to have you home again, Elizabeth. I have missed you."

"Indeed," she replied, "I have felt a warmth of welcome from several people. It really feels like a homecoming."

He smiled at her again. "I believe you have avoided the point I was trying to make," he said. "Have you missed me, Elizabeth?"

She considered. "Yes, I have," she said. "I feel relaxed and at home with you, William."

"Nothing more?" he asked ruefully. "I cannot say I feel relaxed with you. I love you, I believe."

Elizabeth said nothing. She kept her eyes on her clenched hands, searching for a suitable reply.

"You do not have to say anything," he said gently. "I really do not have the right to make such a declaration to you. You are the wife of my closest friend. But I have considered carefully those few weeks when he was here. I would never have suspected the relationship between you. Neither of you showed any signs of attachment to the other. It is my hope that you will agree to marry me so that I may go seek out Robert and ask if he will release you. I know that a divorce will cause an enormous scandal for you. But if you are prepared to live here or in Scotland with me, that need not affect us to any great degree."

Elizabeth was agitated. "William, please do not say these things," she said. "We cannot talk of marriage."

"There cannot be any love between the two of you any longer," he probed, "is there?"

"No, of course not," she answered quickly.

He noticed her haste and said nothing for a while. He maneuvered his curricle carefully past a slow-moving farmer's cart and called a greeting to the driver.

"You love him still, then," he said when they had moved out of earshot.

Elizabeth decided not to lie. "Against all reason, yes," she said.

He transferred the ribbons to his left hand and clasped her hand with his right. "I am sorry," he said. "And is there any hope that you will patch up your differences and live together, Elizabeth?"

"Oh, absolutely none," she replied candidly. "I love him, yes, but I could not possibly agree to reconcile our differences even if he wished it."

"Then marry me," he said. "Agree to let me persuade Robert to divorce you. You like me, do you not, Elizabeth? We could have a good friendship, I believe, a good life together. I have enough love for both of us. I should never demand more than you are prepared to give."