Regency High Society Vol 3. Elizabeth Rolls
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‘I cannot imagine why you felt the need to accompany me on this journey,’ she remarked in a level tone, determined to deny Bridie the opportunity of accusing her of being in a ‘naughty’ temper, which she so often did when Katherine had taken her to task over something.
The mulish expression returned to the homely face. ‘And who would have taken care of you if I hadn’t come along, may I ask?’
‘My aunt’s groom is more than capable of ensuring that I come to no harm.’
‘Pshaw! The great lummox didn’t even think to provide you with a few necessary comforts,’ Bridie retorted, lovingly tucking the fur-lined rug, which she had carried out to the carriage, more securely about her young mistress’s slender legs. ‘I promised your sainted mother on her deathbed that I would always look after her little girl. And I shan’t go back on my word. Bridie will always be here for you, Miss Kate.’
Oh, dear Lord! Katherine inwardly groaned. Although moved by this touching declaration, she was very well aware that the task ahead of her was going to be far from easy. Yet somehow there had to be a way of convincing Bridie that she was now a capable young woman, and no longer a child in need of constant care and attention.
Determined not to be defeated in her objective, Katherine adopted a different tack, as the coachman drew the well-sprung carriage to a halt before the front entrance of the impressive mansion. ‘As you have taken it upon yourself to play nursemaid, you had better accompany me inside. No doubt you will be invited to take tea with the more senior servants.’ She paused after alighting to cast a cautionary glance over her shoulder. ‘So kindly maintain a guard on that unruly tongue of yours for the duration of our visit.’
Bridie, both surprised and incensed at what she considered to be quite uncalled-for strictures, was denied the opportunity to retaliate by voicing her opinion of her young mistress’s frequently caustic utterances by the prompt appearance of the very correct manservant who admitted them to the house.
‘Sir Giles is expecting you, Miss O’Malley. If you would kindly step this way?’ The butler paused, before leading the way across the chequered hall, to cast a faintly superior glance in Bridie’s direction when she appeared about to follow her mistress. ‘I shall ensure that your maid receives refreshments below stairs.’
Hardening her heart against the hopeful expression in those loving, dark eyes, Katherine swept past the door the butler held open. Only then did she begin to wonder if she had not been a little foolish in not insisting that Bridie remain with her, when she noticed that the book-lined room’s sole occupant was Sir Giles.
Rising immediately from behind the desk, he came forward to take Katherine’s hand briefly in his own. ‘My dear Miss O’Malley. My sister and I were delighted that you were able to accept our invitation,’ he announced, before dismissing his servant with the faintest nod of his head. ‘Come, take a seat by the fire.’
A glimmer of amusement flickered in the baronet’s grey eyes as Katherine hesitated. ‘My dear child, I am old enough to be your father, if not your grandfather. Be assured that my sister will be joining us, once she has returned from her trip to town.’
Feeling rather annoyed with herself for so obviously betraying unease, while at the same time thinking it most strange that Miss Osborne should visit the local town when she had invited a guest to take tea, Katherine seated herself in one of the comfortable chairs by the hearth. It was strange too that the butler had shown her in here. Evidently he had been obeying his master’s instructions. But surely it was more usual to invite guests to take tea in the parlour?
After watching her host move across to a small table on which several decanters stood, Katherine glanced about the room. It was a wholly masculine sanctum, which put her in mind of her grandfather’s library in that charming house in Dorsetshire, the main difference being that this room had a second door, left slightly ajar, which possibly led to a small ante-room.
‘Can I tempt you to a glass of Madeira, my dear?’ Again there was a moment’s hesitation on her part which drew a brief smile to Sir Giles’s lips as he poured out a second glass. ‘You came to take tea and yet your host is attempting to ply you with strong liquor. What sinister motive can there be in that? I hear you asking yourself. You are wise to be cautious, child, for this world of ours holds many sinister pitfalls for the unwary. And I did have a specific reason for wishing to see you alone.’
More intrigued than unnerved by this surprising admission, Katherine accepted the glass held out to her, observing as she did so that those shrewd grey eyes, alert and acutely assessing, were regarding her no less keenly than they had on the evening of the engagement party almost two weeks ago.
‘You have striking colouring, Miss O’Malley,’ he remarked, surprising her still further, as he settled himself in the chair opposite, his gaze never wavering from her face. ‘Inherited from your Irish-born father, I should imagine.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she responded, wondering what he would remark upon next. She was not left to speculate for long.
‘I am reliably informed that you and your father were very close. It was a tragedy that he lost his life in the service of his country … But it was a tragedy that was destined to take place long before he had set sail from Ireland.’ Sir Giles saw the slender fingers tighten momentarily round the stem of the glass, and a look appear in the turquoise-coloured eyes which was no less penetrating than that in his own. ‘Ill fortune played no part in your father’s demise. The French had been informed that three vessels loaded with urgent supplies would be setting sail for Portugal on a certain date, and they were lying in wait.’
‘How—how did you discover this?’ Katherine demanded. The heartache she had suffered when she had first learned of her father’s death had never left her, but now a completely different emotion, far stronger than the lingering pain, had swiftly gained supremacy. A despicable traitor had been responsible for the death of her father!
‘I make it my business to know, child,’ Sir Giles responded, smiling grimly. ‘One does not need to don a uniform in order to serve one’s country. And not all one’s enemies are as visible as those on the field of battle.’ The look in his steely-grey eyes grew noticeably harder. ‘Napoleon is in exile on Elba. But my war is far from over, and shall not be so until I have unmasked the heartless devil who, during these past years, has been passing information on to the French.’
Taking a moment to refresh himself, Giles continued to regard her steadily over the rim of his glass. ‘I shall not insult your intelligence by attempting to suggest that the person I am determined to unmask is the very traitor responsible for tampering with the document sent to the Admiralty requesting an escort for the convoy in which your father was destined to sail. There have been a number of agents working for France during these past years. I have a particular interest in uncovering the identity of just one of them, mainly because I was foolish enough once to underestimate him, and in so doing was responsible, in part, for the death of a young Frenchwoman whose knowledge would have proved invaluable in unmasking a cell of agents working in this country.’
Katherine’s gaze remained as steady as her host’s. She now knew precisely why Sir Giles, the secret spy-catcher, had invited her here. ‘You believe that I might prove useful in helping you achieve your objective?’
‘Yes, child, I do. From the moment I first set eyes upon you I was aware of the striking resemblance you bear to the young woman who was murdered whilst under my so-called protection,’