Percy Levant turned his haggard face toward him. “No, my lord,” he said, hoarsely, “we are not, and never shall be, married.”
The marquis drew a long breath. “No!”
“No,” said Percy Levant, almost inaudibly. “If I had loved her less——” he stopped. “My love for her has saved her, my lord. Miss Marlowe—Lady Mary—is free from any claims from me.”
Lady Grace’s fan came to a sudden stoppage.
“Not married!” she gasped.
“Not married!” echoed Spenser Churchill, in accents of malignant disappointment.
Percy Levant looked at them both with a steady gaze. “Not married,” he said. “You may go now, Spenser Churchill.”
“No!” cried a grave voice. It was Lord Cecil’s; and he sprang to the window. “Not till justice——”
Percy Levant folded his arms and stood resigned and patient.
“Not till justice has been satisfied. I charge you, Spenser Churchill, with conspiracy——”