“In the dark!” said a sweet voice in a tone expressive of reproachful surprise. “Did you leave Lord Courtenay here without a light?”
“Your Highness, no,” replied Alexis.
The voice of the first speaker sent a thrill to Wilfrid’s heart, for it was the voice of the lady he was longing to meet.
Graceful in figure, and stately in bearing, she moved forward with all the dignity of an Imperial princess. In Wilfrid’s eyes she seemed more beautiful than ever, attired as she was in a clinging robe of the richest silk, her face and hair framed in a dainty lace wrap. Radiant and youthful, what did she want in a chamber so grim with suggestions of tragedy? He was glad to note that at that moment the dead hand lay in shadow. Beside the Duchess on her right walked Alexis, as faithful a servitor as his blindness would permit; in the rear, and carrying a small silver lamp that shed a soft glow around, came a third person, whom Wilfrid took to be a lady-in-waiting.
“Remain here,” said the Duchess, addressing her two attendants, and with that she moved forward towards Wilfrid. Her reason for keeping her attendants in the room was obvious. When a youthful duchess holds an interview with a man in the dead of night it is well to have a witness by to prove that such meeting is all that it should be.
The Duchess’s first question was personal, and to the point.
“Lord Courtenay, have you learned yet who I am?”
“Am I wrong in concluding that you are a Grand Duchess?”
She hesitated, an odd smile on her lips.
“I was—once.”