“Ah! yes!” She understood. “I must go to Madame Cerise to-morrow. You’ll want ever so many new dresses. Oh! my head’s in a whirl! Think of it—Duchess of Belfayre!”
[CHAPTER XVI.]
Esmeralda went to her own room. She seemed in a dream. Every word Trafford had spoken came back to her; the touch of his hand was still with her. She felt happy, and yet—and yet there was still something wanting. She looked in the glass curiously, critically. Lord Trafford had said that she was beautiful. She compared herself with some of the ladies whom she had seen, and, with her lack of vanity, she thought that there were many more beautiful than she was. That he had asked her to be his wife filled her with surprise: she did not think of her two millions.
They went out that night to a dance, and Trafford was there, and came up to her soon after she arrived. He did not refer to what had passed between them, but he hovered about her, and danced with her several times. She noticed that the men who usually thronged about her drew back, and left her with Lord Trafford, as if he had a claim upon her. He saw her to her carriage, and at parting he raised her hand to his lips. The caress lingered with her until she fell asleep.
Two days afterward she received a letter. It was from Lady Lilias, asking her and Lady Wyndover to go and stay at Belfayre. It was a short note, but a very friendly one, and Esmeralda took it to Lady Wyndover.
“Shall we go?” she asked.
“Why, certainly!” exclaimed Lady Wyndover. “My dear child, you are the luckiest girl I ever heard of. Write and tell Lady Lilias that you will come on Thursday. That will give us four days, and Cerise can do wonders in four days—if she likes.”
They started for Belfayre on Thursday, and when they reached Waterloo, they found Lord Trafford waiting for them.