“Not finding you there, I came here,” he replied.
“I am indeed flattered,” said Miss Challoner.
He laughed. “It’s all I went for, my dear, I assure you. Why was that fellow holding your hands?”
“For comfort,” said Miss Challoner desolately.
He held out his own. “Give them to me.”
Miss Challoner shook her head. There was a curious lump in her throat that made speech impossible.
“Oh, very well, ma’am, if you prefer the attentions of Frederick Comyn!” said the Marquis in a hard voice. “Be good enough to listen to what I have to say. I have discovered, through Carruthers, of the Ambassador’s suite, that there is a divine, lately passed through Paris, bear-leading some sprig of the nobility. They are bound for Italy by easy stages, and at this present are to be found in Dijon, where it appears they are making a stay of two weeks. He’s the man to do our business for us. I am about to abduct you for the second and last time, Miss Challoner.” She made no reply. His eyes reached her face. “Well, have you nothing to say?”
“I have said it all so many times, my lord.”
He turned away impatiently. “Make the best of me, ma’am; you dislike me cordially, no doubt. I’ll admit you have reason. But you may know, if it interests you, that I am offering what I have never offered to any woman before.”
“You offer it because you feel you must,” said Mary in a low voice. “And I thank you — but I refuse your offer.”