Anthony Hope

“ Miss Gilletson gasped.
"Oh, I forgot you didn't know me," he said, laughing. "I'm Lord Lynborough, you know. That's how I come to be so well up in all this. And I tell you what—I should like to show you some of our Scarsmoor roses on your way home."
"Oh, but if you're Lord Lynborough, I—I really couldn't——"
"Who's to know anything about it, unless you choose, Miss Gilletson?" he asked with his ingratiating smile and his merry twinkle. "There's nothing so pleasant as a secret shared with a lady!"
It was a long time since a handsome man had shared a secret with Miss Gilletson. ”

“ It is impossible to avoid that reflection. Yet let ladies in their turn ask themselves if they are over-scrupulous in their treatment of one man when their affections are set upon another.
He showed Miss Gilletson all the family tombs. He escorted her from the church. Under renewed vows of secrecy he induced her to enter Scarsmoor. Once in the gardens, the good lady was lost. They had no such roses at Nab Grange! Lynborough insisted on sending an enormous bouquet to the Vicar's wife in Miss Gilletson's name—and Miss Gilletson grew merry as she pictured the mystification of the Vicar's wife. ”

“ Keep the tent empty till the moment comes. Then display your triumph! It'll be a pleasant little surprise for everybody, won't it?"
Dawson thought it would; at any rate it was one for him.
At this instant an elderly lady of demure appearance was observed, to walk up to the lych-gate and enter the churchyard. Lynborough inquired of his companion who she was.
"That's Miss Gilletson from the Grange, my lord—the Marchesa's companion."
"Is it?" said Lynborough softly. "Oh, is it indeed?" He rose from his seat. "Good-bye, Dawson. Mind—a dead secret, and a rattling good lunch!" ”