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Updated: April 30, 2025
Ridge, don't you know?" "Know what?" "You surely know that I am not Lord Huntingford's " "You don't mean to say that you are not his daughter," gasped Hugh, dubious as to her meaning. "I am Lady Huntingford." "His wife?" "His wife." Hugh, too dumbfounded to speak, could do no more than doff his cap as she took the arm of the gray lord and softly said to him: "Good-night, Mr. Ridge."
As for Hugh, that young gentleman thought it the wiser plan, when unavoidably relating a mild description of last night's encounter, to abstain from acquainting Grace with Lord Huntingford's discovery of his name whether accidental or otherwise. Quite rightly he surmised that it would unnecessarily distress her, and he preferred not to cross the bridge until he came to it.
When at last he slept it was to dream that a gentle hand was caressing his forehead and loving fingers were running through his hair. For a while the hand was Grace Vernon's, then it was Tennys Huntingford's, then Grace's, then the other's. Its touch brought a curve to his lips.
The thought gave birth to a fear that he was not perfectly sure of her love, and that it might turn to Henry Veath, after all. In the early morning hours, between snatches of sleep, he decided to ask Lady Huntingford's advice, after explaining to her the dilemma in full. He would also tell Grace of Veath's declaration, putting her on guard.
I'll thrash you, and then have the captain put you on shore at the first port you infernal impostor!" In an instant Hugh was over the table. He tore the stick from Lord Huntingford's hand and clutched his throat, forcing him down on the seat cushions. With the exception of the younger man's hard breathing and some gasps from the other, the struggle was noiseless.
Lord Huntingford's daughter plunged into them, and he literally carried her to the foot. She was pale and trembling and he was flushed. He had looked up in time to see her falling forward, vainly striving to reach the hand rail. "Are you hurt?" he asked anxiously. The young lady sat down upon the second step before answering, a delightful pink stealing over her face.
It was debatable whether Hugh was more astonished at the mention of Lady Huntingford's name in connection with his own, or at the stick in dangerously close proximity to his countenance. It was some time before he could find words; but his face from red went white. "And if I decline?"
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