He had not forgotten how she had refused to go near Alton Park. It was impossible to forget how she had asked if the food waiting for them in the Grecian Temple had belonged to the dreaded Marquis.
‘Old and frightening’ was how she had described him. He could see the darkness in her green eyes, the manner in which her lips trembled in an unexplained dread at the thought of meeting the Marquis or of going to his house.
Why was she afraid of him? What did it mean? Where could he find a solution to such a tangled coil?
He remembered how he had told Sylvina that he was good at solving problems, but this one seemed insoluble. How could he, who had never failed, be defeated by a small socially inconsequent young girl?
It seemed absurd, but the Marquis thought that it was Sylvina’s innocence
