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Mrs Pomeroy nodded her head sadly “Aye, he wants to take all his hurt and brood on it He was always like that, Master Max—kept all his feelings tight inside, locked up like a box His mother, the dear duchess, could tease hione, bless her The duke, he’s too much the same Carved from the same piece of wood, they were…”

Her voice trailed off and there was an unco rooazed upon the on the conversation

“You don’t believe it, do you, Mrs Pomeroy?” Marietta asked softly “You don’t believe the duke isn’t Max’s father?”

Mrs Pomeroy hesitated, and then she looked up, directly into Marietta’s syaze “No, ether then you wou

ldn’t believe it neither It’s plain daft to suggest it”

“Then why has Max been disinherited? Why does his father accept this letter as truth?”

“He was angry, I suppose The duke always flies off the handle when he’s angry, and he was inconsolable when he read that letter” Again Mrs Poorously at the table surface

“And now the deed is done,” Marietta murmured

There was a rattle of the knocker on the outside door

With an exclamation, Mrs Pomeroy hobbled over to the sashand peered out “’Tis Mr Harold and Miss Susannah,” she declared “They’re around hereThey’ve always been close, ever since they were children Miss Susannah was like a daughter to the duke and duchess, for all she’d come from those heathen parts Jamaica or whatever it’s called”

Marietta re her that Barwon had adopted a young Creole girl he had found living wild on one of the old plantations That must have been Susannah

She joined Mrs Pomeroy at theand peered curiously down to the street There was Harold, sta about ireen skirts and afeather-decorated bonnet As if she felt their eyes upon her, she glanced up An oval face, skin so pale and delicate it was like petals, and dark, tragic eyes Susannah Valland was certainly beautiful

Just then a ht her eye A ed man with broad shoulders and a wide chest packed into a shabby brown coat was standing, watching the Vallands as they entered the house She noted that his hair was sparse brown, and his face reminded her a little of Dobson’s—as if he had been in too hts Allanced up and saw her at theand hurried away

The knocker rattled again, and then the door opened Out in the hall they could hear Pomeroy’s important tones, joined by Harold’s, and then the voice of Susannah—low and languid with a strangely foreign inflection

Marietta was te room door for another peep at theh After all, she shouldn’t still be here, gossiping with the servants, and it would be eht—no doubt worse for the servants