Algernon and Celia talked. Rachel did not. She could not seem to keep her head from turning in the direction of the hidden house and upper lawn. Had Mr. Gower not come with Algie? But he must have. He was the guest of honor. Of course, as such he would doubtless have to stay close to Lady Wexford. He probably would not come down to the river at all. But she could not concentrate on the conversation, and she could not stop her eyes from turning in the direction from which he would come, if he came.

"Shall we cross to those trees?" Algernon suggested. "I see General and Mrs. Harding over there. I played cards with him the other evening. Very decent sort of fellow."

Celia turned obediently.

Rachel drew her arm free. "You two go," she said. "I would really far prefer to return to the upper lawn. To tell the truth, Algie, I am starved. I shall follow Mama and Papa up to the house. No, no." She held up a hand and smiled dazzlingly at the other two, who had both turned back. "Don't let me spoil your pleasure. I should feel guilty if I dragged you back with me. And the Hardings may think you are trying to avoid them. I shall be with Mama in but a moment. There will be no impropriety at all."

She whisked herself around and began to stride purposefully up the slope before the other two could make any protest. She smiled brightly at the other strollers she passed.

But she stopped before she reached the top of the rise that would bring the house into full view. What was she doing? The hunger story was, of course, false. She was going in search of Mr. Gower. She was being more foolish than she had thought it possible for her to be. The man had shown no interest in her from that first day on. He treated her with the merest courtesy only, he had shown a marked preference for Celia. And she knew with her rational mind that it was right that it be so. Celia was eminently suited to life as a vicar's wife. The thought of herself in that role was ludicrous.