Now that she had succeeded, her courage failed her, and she was mute and frightened, presenting as great a contrast as possible to any idea the viscount might have formed of a violent and loud-voiced woman forcing her way in with intent to make a disturbance.
“Madame Rocada,” he began.
But she stopped him with a rapid gesture.
“Do not call me that. I have already told you that it is not my name, it never was my name. I am your nephew’s wife.”
Anxious to be out of the way of a scene which promised to be a trying one, Edgar had sidled out of the room as he let the lady in, and the two, distressed woman and scandalised man, were left alone together.
“Am I to believe that?” he stammered after a short pause.
“Bring him face to face with me, and you will be no longer in doubt.”
He shook his head.
“I cannot do that. He has been given his liberty on account of the state of his health, which is considered hopeless. In fact, he has been let out to die.”
Although she did not utter a word, Lord Clanfield could not help seeing that the grief his words caused her was profound.