“My lord,” after all she blurted it out under those eyes of his, “there’s a man in your sister’s rooms!”
He sprang from his chair with clenched hands.
“You damned lying cat, you!” he exclaimed, between his teeth.
Melissa fell on her knees.
“Oh, my lord,” she whined, “I did not mean that! ’Tis her husband—’tis Lord Clancarty himself!”
It was as though a white mask had fallen on his face, his figure was rigid, his eyes glittered; rage was almost choking him.
“How do you know, woman?” he asked fiercely.
“I know him, sir, he has been haunting her,” hurried on Melissa, “at Althorpe, at Newmarket, and now here. ’Twas he who fought the duel in the meadow. They have tried to hide it from me but they could not. He is in her room now.”
Spencer glared at her, his hands twitching; when he spoke it was hoarsely.
“How came he there? How came he in this house?” he demanded.