Regency High Society Vol 3. Elizabeth Rolls

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Would that be the Honourable Charles Cranford, a member of Parliament?’ Mr Wentworth asked, thereby regaining his neighbour’s attention.

      ‘Why, yes,’ Sir Giles confirmed. ‘Are you acquainted with him?’

      ‘Not personally, no. But I dealt with my late father-in-law’s estate after he died, and unless I much mistake the matter it was none other than Charles Cranford who purchased the Colonel’s house in Dorset.’

      ‘Ah, yes! You may possibly be right, Wentworth. And that is perhaps why the name Fairchild seemed vaguely familiar to me,’ Sir Giles confessed, before casting an enquiring glance in the Major’s direction. ‘Young Daniel, here, should be able to enlighten us. Also he ought to be able to set your mind at rest over the state of the roads in the west.’

      Although betraying mild surprise, the Major didn’t hesitate to assure Mr Wentworth that, although there had indeed been a light covering of snow overnight, all the main routes were passable. ‘I set out before dawn, and had no trouble whatsoever in reaching Andover, where I ate a late breakfast. And to answer your first query—yes, Charles Cranford did purchase the late Colonel Fairchild’s property. My home is situated close by. I knew the Colonel very well.’

      ‘Good Lord! It is a small world, indeed!’ Mr Wentworth exclaimed. ‘You must be acquainted with my wife Lavinia, the Colonel’s younger daughter. Although,’ he added, as he saw dark brows draw together above the Major’s faintly aquiline nose, ‘I expect you were a mere boy when we married and she moved away from the county.’

      ‘I remember that the Colonel had two daughters, sir. But as you remarked, it is a long time since last I set eyes upon either of them.’

      ‘Well, sir, I’m certain my wife would enjoy seeing you again. She retains fond memories of that part of the country. In fact,’ he added, as a thought suddenly occurred to him, ‘we’re holding a party this evening. Why not come along? You’d be most welcome. I know Lavinia would enjoy nothing better than chatting over old times.’

      ‘First, let us see if we cannot persuade him to remain long enough to enjoy a glass of wine,’ Sir Giles intervened, sensing that Major Ross was on the point of declining Mr Wentworth’s kind invitation.

      Quickly finishing off the contents of his own glass, and refusing a second, Mr Wentworth cast a brief glance at the mantel-clock, which clearly informed him that it was time he was heading homewards. ‘And I must be on my way. Hope to see you at the party tonight, Major.’

      ‘He genuinely means it, Ross,’ Sir Giles assured him, the instant his neighbour had departed. A ghost of a smile once again flickered about his thin lips. ‘Not that I suppose for a moment that I could influence your decision one way or the other, but you’re most welcome to put up here for the night. It would grant us the opportunity to reminisce pleasurably over old times.’

      The Major’s dark eyes were brightened by a decidedly cynical gleam, as he accepted the glass of burgundy, and lowered his tall frame into the chair recently vacated by his host’s neighbour. ‘You will forgive me for saying so, Osborne, but I cannot recall that our dealings were ever precisely enjoyable.’

      ‘You are thinking of that delectable French filly, Justine Baron, I do not doubt.’ Sir Giles settled himself in the chair on the opposite side of the hearth, and gazed meditatively down at his glass. ‘Undeniably that must rate as my greatest failure. I came so close to catching him then.’

      ‘Are you certain that she would have kept to her part of the bargain?’ the Major asked, sounding decidedly sceptical, and after a moment the baronet nodded his head.

      ‘I could of course have attained the information I wanted by—er—other means. But in Justine’s case I chose to be merciful. She did not become a spy through choice, but because she was forced into it, although she was well paid by her country for her services. There was only one thing Justine loved above money … and that was her sister. We kept to our part of the bargain, and I’m certain in my own mind she would have kept to hers by revealing that British traitor’s name, if the devil hadn’t discovered where I’d hidden her. I knew even then it had to be one of two people. That belief has not changed. Nor my resolve to unmask the rogue.’

      The look in the Major’s eyes contained neither sympathy nor encouragement. ‘The war is over.’

      ‘It might be for you, Ross,’ Sir Giles countered, reaching into his pocket for the letter his companion had kindly taken the trouble to deliver. ‘But there are still a few of us remaining who are determined to see justice done.’

      He took a moment to apprise himself of the contents of the missive before returning it to the safety of his pocket. ‘Cranford writes to inform me that he is organising a party at his home at the beginning of April, and has, it seems, been successful in persuading several— er—interesting people to attend. Will you be among the guests?’

      ‘Possibly,’ the Major answered, clearly unwilling to commit himself.

      ‘By the by, I had heard that you’d sold your commission,’ Sir Giles remarked with an abrupt change of subject. ‘What will you find to do with yourself now your career in the army is at an end?’

      ‘Look after the property I’ve neglected for far too long.’

      ‘Ah! So those old, festering wounds have finally healed, have they? I’m glad to hear that you are ready to settle down.’

      Daniel stared intently into the baronet’s shrewd eyes. ‘My God!’ he muttered, experiencing a mixture of anger and grudging respect. ‘Not much ever escapes you, does it, Osborne?’

      Just a hint of smug satisfaction crept into Sir Giles’s expression. ‘I have endeavoured over the years to ensure that not much ever does. And since you are to attend a reunion dinner you must have brought suitable evening attire.’

      ‘Only my dress uniform,’ Daniel disclosed.

      ‘Excellent! Then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t attend the party tonight.’

       Chapter Two

      ‘I think I shall wear the pearls, Bridie,’ Katherine decided, after studying her overall appearance in the full-length mirror.

      Although Bridie’s apron had covered many duties over the years, including those of nursemaid, housekeeper and cook, she was also a very proficient lady’s maid, and Katherine was delighted with the more elaborate arrangement of her auburn curls. She was satisfied too with her choice of gown for the special evening ahead. She had wished to look her best for the occasion, and considered the dark green velvet dress suited her very well, its soft folds emphasising the shapely slen-derness of her figure, while its colour subtly enhanced the green in her eyes.

      ‘I think we chose wisely when we selected this new gown,’ she remarked, seating herself once again at the dressing table in order that Bridie, several inches shorter, might fasten the pearl necklace more easily, while she herself concentrated on securing the matching earrings to her small lobes. ‘It makes me appear neither a chit just emerged from the schoolroom, nor yet a female at her last prayers.’

      Bridie could not help smiling to herself at this candid admission. Her young mistress was so lacking in conceit that she could never be made to appreciate just how very lovely she was. Blessed with delicate, regular features, and a trim shapely figure, she had little difficulty in igniting a glint of admiration

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