There was no sign of the Duchess, and after a while Iona thought it would be polite to go to her bedchamber and inquire if she had slept well.
Her Grace had seemed strange these past few days and at dinner she had hardly spoken at all, answering the Duke in monosyllables when he addressed her directly. Iona had thought that her silence on previous occasions was due to the fact that she was jealous of Lady Wrexham, but last night her Ladyship had sent word that she was indisposed and would dine in her bedchamber. Even in her absence, the Duchess had not been any more cheerful.
Iona had grown to dread the long, drawn out meals when she was uneasily aware of strange undercurrents in the conversation, while their meaning was beyond her comprehension. As she moved down the passage, she wonder
