“Very well,” the Earl agreed, “Giselda can be Mrs. Barrowfield, widow of a Yorkshire Squire who made millions from wool.”
“Her mother can have been a distant cousin of mine,” the Colonel said, “and that will eradicate any complication over names.”
Suddenly, as if the full implication of what was being planned swept over her, Giselda said in a frightened little voice,
“Please – I am afraid – of doing this. Supposing I let you down? Supposing I am – discovered?”
“Then Julius will marry Miss Clutterbuck,” Henry replied before anyone else could speak, “and there will be no great harm done one way or the other. Mrs. Barrowfield can disappear back to Yorkshire.”
He had taken it upon himself to answer Giselda’s plea, but she had been looking at the Earl and he knew she appealed to him for pr
