"I am pleased to meet you, ma'am," Sylvia was saying, extending a hand. "Is his lordship not at home?"

He is expected for dinner," Cousin Hetty replied. "But there is plenty of time before that for you to drink tea and to retire to your rooms to change and freshen ?p.

She led the way from the room and up the marble staircase to the drawing room above. While Sylvia seated herself and Cousin Hetty rang the bell for tea, Rosalind forgot herself enough to cross the large room.

"What a beautiful pianoforte," she said, running a hand reverently over the highly polished wood. "Does the earl play?"

"No, my dear," Cousin Hetty replied, "but he is a well-known patron. He holds a concert in his home each year. But not in this room. If you think this a beautiful instrument, wait until you see the music room." She nodded her head.

Rosalind recrossed the room to take a seat beside Sylvia.

"Did you hurt yourself on the journey, my dear?" Cousin Hetty asked her with concern.

Rosalind blushed hotly. "No, ma'am," was all she could say. She knew that for politeness' sake she should have explained, but she did not, and the moment passed.

The Earl of Raymore did not return for dinner. Rosalind was both disappointed and relieved: disappointed because she wanted to get the ordeal over with, relieved because she was tired and was glad to postpone the meeting until another day.

All three ladies retired early to bed at Cousin Hetty's insistence. And indeed she was tired, Rosalind reflected. She hoped she would sleep. She had seen the music room during the evening and had been awed by the magnificence of the pianoforte there. It was a work of art just to the sight, but its tone when she ran her fingers over the keys was exquisite. She was excited, too, to discover a harpsichord. She had never seen one before and had thought them to be quite out of fashion. But she was delighted by the harsh and yet dignified sounds that it produced when she played a few bars of a Bach fugue.