"I have the honour of informing you, mademoiselle, that you are released from your engagements."
Was there a note of laughter in the prim voice?
"I—thank you—sir," whispered Cleone. Her teeth clenched in an effort to keep back the tears. She was blinded by them, and her bosom was heaving.
There was a slight pause. Why did he not go? Did he wish to see her still more humiliated?
"I have also to offer, on Sir Deryk's behalf, his apologies for the happenings of last night, mademoiselle."
"Th—thank—you, sir."
Again the nerve-killing silence. If only he would go before she broke down!
"Cleone...." said Philip gently.
The tears were running down her cheeks, but she kept her head turned away.
"Please—go!" she begged huskily.