Davidge was astounded at this confirmation of Larrey’s story. He said:
“But it wasn’t true what Lady C.-W. told?”
“Most of it was false, but it was fiction founded on fact, and I couldn’t explain it without breaking my oath. And now I’ve pretty nearly broken it, after all. I’ve sprained it badly.”
“Don’t you want to go on and––finish it off?”
“I want to––oh, how I want to! but I’ve got to save a few shreds of respectability. I kidnapped you the day you were going to tea with Lady C.-W. to keep you from her. I wish now I’d let you go. Then you’d have known the worst of me––or worse than the worst.”
She turned a harrowed glance his way, and saw, to her bewilderment, that he was smiling broadly. Then he seized her hands and felt a need to gather her home to his arms.
She was so amazed that she fell back to stare at him. Studying his radiant face, she somehow guessed that he had known part of her story before and was glad to hear her confess it, but her intuition missed fire when she guessed at the source of his information.
“You have been talking to Lady Clifton-Wyatt, after all!”
“Not since I saw her with you.”
“Then who told you?”