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children of my dearest friend, the need have. What would you?” When he had suddenly proclaimed that he’d searched Europe and believed he had discovered a man who might help her sister, Rachel had been overwhelmed. And when the surgeon had operated and Charity had been so wonderfully improved, she had gone down on her knees and thanked God for sending Claude Sanguinet to them.
    Now, she sat on a sofa and took up a copy of Ladies Magazine. She turned the pages idly, her gaze drifting often to the quiet figure of the Frenchman and at last, setting the periodical aside having seen none of it, she said in a pleading voice, “I beg you will not think ill of me, Guy!”
    He swung around at once, to view her with undisguised astonishment. “Why should I do this?”
    She gave a sigh of relief. “You were so silent. And—I thought perhaps you too, would think I had been—er, that is to say—I swear to you—the soldier has never once uttered a single word to me that was improper!”
    â€œTrès bien!” He smiled. “He is another such as my brothers, eh? ‘Integer vitae scelerisque purus.’ ”
    The quotation eluded Rachel, but she assumed it to be complimentary, and agreed, “Yes. Claude has been splendid. The best friend we have ever known.”
    Guy regarded her steadily. “So good a—friend—that you will his wife become.”
    An odd and unfamiliar acceleration of the pulse caused Rachel’s breathing to become hurried. She tightened her fingers a little upon a fold in her gown and promised, “I will try to be a good wife to him.”
    He did not comment, but his brooding gaze remained fixed upon her. How solemn he was today. Curious, she asked with her sometimes startling frankness, “Guy—what disturbs you? Do you fancy me beneath his touch?”
    He gave a shout of laughter and lapsing into French, said, “Never that! Only—I would think it an advantage was a lady—ah, fond of the man she married.”
    Sister Maria Evangeline’s words echoed in Rachel’s mind. “… Are you not confusing gratitude with the tender passion?” Defiantly, she asserted, “Well, I am! Very fond!”
    Far from appearing pleased by so positive a reply, his eyes became sombre and after a moment he asked, “Have you never heard gossip about us, Rachel? Has no friend spoken with you of your betrothal?”
    â€œI have few friends now. Oh, I’ve heard a few silly rumours, of course. Your brother is a man of large fortune, and always there are those who envy the rich. But, do not worry—I pay no heed to such gabble mongering.”
    He hesitated, then started towards her, the whip gripped very tightly in his hand. “Rachel—you are so very—” He halted, his head jerking around in irritation as a sharp knock preceded the opening of the door.
    Shotten stepped inside and bowed much too low. “A cove’s come from Dinan,” he announced in his coarse fashion. “I’m orf! Got a job of work t’do.”
    â€œBy whose orders?” Sanguinet demanded haughtily.
    â€œThe one wot pays me wages. Yer brother.”
    The insolence in the beady eyes was unmistakable. Ignoring it, Guy said, “The one from Dinan—he tell you this?”
    â€œYus. And he brung a littel word fer you as well. Sir. He’s waiting dahnstairs.” He leered from one to the other, and was gone.
    â€œAnimal!” grated Guy. He turned to Rachel. “I shall see what is this ‘littel word.’ Meanwhile, what must I do? Escort you both back to Strand Hall? Or shall you wait here as Claude have … command.”
    She looked keenly at him, but his face was bland. “Charity should be taken home as soon as possible. She is very pulled from the long journey and always does so much better in Sussex. I mean to wait for Claude, if you will be so kind as to escort