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he’s out again!” said Lady Tarleton.
    “Well, you know, he has so many friends in the neighbourhood,’’ said Lady Fontclair. “And as he’s not here very often, naturally he likes to visit them when he has the chance.”
    “You know as well as I do, he’s not paying civilized calls round the neighbourhood! He’s gone carousing in the village, as usual, getting up to Heaven knows what mischief and bringing down ridicule on all of us. How are we to maintain our dignity, when Guy is forever lowering himself to the level of common artisans and labouring men? Though I don’t know why I should care anymore— our position is already all but compromised beyond repair!” She threw a scornful glance at the Craddocks.
    “Guy is just high-spirited,” said Lady Fontclair. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean any harm. But if you like, I’ll ask him to dine at home tomorrow. Will that content you?”
    “Content me! As though anything could content me, as long as—! Well, I suppose I shall have to make do with it.”
    Lady Fontclair caught Julian’s eye and smiled ruefully, as though asking his pardon for Lady Tarleton’s tantrum and, at the same time, appealing to his sense of humour. He smiled back, thinking what a pretty woman she was—dark-haired and dainty, with velvety brown eyes. Her daughter Joanna looked very like her; Philippa had the long, thin face of the Fontclairs.
    He was seated on her right hand at dinner. Knowing she lived in the country all year round, he was resigned to conversing mainly about her children and her garden. He soon found he had not done her justice. She had a wide variety of interests, the most surprising of which was medicine. “Dr. MacGregor’s been training me for some time now,” she said. “He’s our local physician—well, a surgeon, really, but we give him the title of ‘doctor’ all the same. I told him
    I didn’t like the thought of there being a sudden illness or accident at Bellegarde, and no one here at hand who knew what to do about it. I asked him to teach me some simple treatments—how to take out splinters, stanch bleeding, bring down fevers—that sort of thing. He’s been so kind. He’s given me medical books, and taught me all about bandaging and—well, never mind the rest. It’s not especially suitable for dinnertable conversation! Anyway, I’ve learned to treat my family and servants for small ailments, though of course I consult Dr. MacGregor about anything that might be at all serious. You’ll meet him tomorrow; he always dines here on Fridays.”
    “I shall look forward to that.”
    “You’ll find him very crusty, I’m afraid, but we’re all extremely fond of him. Otherwise this is strictly a family party. I hope it won’t prove dull for you, coming from London at the height of the season.”
    “Sometimes the height of the season, like other lofty elevations, is best viewed from a distance.”
    She dimpled at him. “Mr. Kestrel, you are very charming.” Then, suddenly serious, she added, “I’m glad, very glad, to find that I like you. It’s so important what friends a man makes at Hugh’s age. Young men are so open to impressions—so easily influenced, especially by friends who are a little older and more worldly. I feel sure I can trust you—can’t I?—to think of Hugh’s good and remember how young he is.”
    “Lady Fontclair, you have my promise never to mar what you’ve made of him.”
    “My dear Mr. Kestrel. And you won’t tell him we had this conversation?”
    “What conversation is that?” he said blankly.
    They smiled at one another.
    She turned to Craddock, who was seated on her other hand. Julian marked how her manner changed. She was scrupulously civil, but there was no warmth in her voice. “Are you going to the horse fair tomorrow, Mr. Craddock?**
    “I wasn*t planning on it, no,*’ he said sharply. “It*s been some years since I took a professional interest in horses.”
    Julian was surprised. Why should the