So she had been wrong – wrong about the Duchess and wrong about Bianca de Silva.
How could she have been so foolish? And yet everything had conspired to deceive her, the rings that looked alike and the fact that she had found her husband in his mistress’s bedroom.
For the first time that vision of a lovely pouting face and the fair hair spread over the pillows faded and also for the first time since her marriage the Duchess no longer seemed a menace.
Impulsively she turned towards Sir Anthony.
“Thank you for telling me all this,” she said softly.
“But it could not have been that unimportant bit of muslin that you quarrelled about,” he declared.
“No, it was not about Bianca de Silva.”
“Someone else?” Sir Anthony enquired. “Ever since your engagement to Valdo has been announced there
