Dishonour and Desire. Juliet Landon

How well do you know Lord and Lady Ensdale?’

      ‘Well enough to know that their house parties are never dull. They used to entertain the regiment at Brighton, you know. Kept open house there. Look, Cat…’ Lord Rayne said, leaning forward a little from the buttoned velvet seat, ‘if you’re concerned about Boston, about him…you know…calling on you, you send for me, eh? I’m at home for a while and we can always ride out, or drive, and if you need an escort I shall more than likely be available. If you need an excuse, use me.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Caterina said. ‘That’s very thoughtful. I may well do that. It will only be temporary.’

      ‘Yes, of course.’

      ‘In that case,’ said Lady Dorna, jauntily, ‘send Sir Chase on to me at River Court and I’ll do my best to take his mind off you.’

      Privately, Lord Rayne did not believe his lovely widowed sister would succeed in diverting Chase Boston from anything he had set his mind to. But if Caterina was as unhappy with the possibility as she appeared to be, he himself would gladly help her out, for they had once been good friends and he had not made a promising start of their second phase. Besides that, he would not mind being seen with her on his arm.

      With that offer in mind, a certain peace was established for the first time in twenty-four hours and, because she did not want to put a damper on a weekend so much looked forward to, Caterina brightened up. The five days ahead would surely be enough time to displace thoughts of Sir Chase Boston and her father from her mind. She wished Hannah’s youngest twins no harm, but their high temperatures had been a godsend in forcing their mother to relinquish her duties as chaperon, duties she took far too seriously for most people’s enjoyment. Lady Dorna, known to her friends as The Merry Widow, had quite different ideas about what a chaperon ought (and ought not) to do, and the two sisters had no doubts who was most in need of a duenna.

      The journey through the rolling countryside of Hampshire and Wiltshire, however, provided ample opportunity for memories of Sir Chase’s unforgettable presence to intrude upon Caterina’s peace, whether she wanted them or not. In the light of Lord Rayne’s high opinion of him, heard at first-hand, it was hardly surprising that he should have taken it for granted that a woman would jump at the chance of being driven behind his team of chestnuts in a curricle, of all things.

      Not surprisingly, Lady Dorna had noted only Sir Chase’s most memorable features, but then, she had not suddenly discovered herself to be indebted to him by twenty thousand guineas. She might have looked upon matters less facetiously if she had not been proposed by her father as the means of paying him off, simply because her brother was not in a position to do so.

      Caterina and Sara had visited Sevrington Hall once before, but that had been two years ago when snow had prevented their return home on the appointed day, and the delayed house-guests had made good use of the new plaything by arranging snowball fights, sledging on trays, snowman-building and skating on the lake. Now it was early May, with pink and white blossom lying thickly on the roads instead of snow, whitening the hedges and flying behind the wheels. With two rests and a change of horses along the way at Farnham and Winchester, it was almost dinnertime when they came in sight of Sevrington Hall near Salisbury, gleaming like a golden ingot on the blossomed hillside.

      Turning through a solid Renaissance gatehouse, they drove through herds of deer in the parkland towards the Elizabethan house whose many window-panes flashed apricot in the late sun. They were neither the first nor the last guests to arrive, but to judge from the ecstatic welcome of their ebullient hostess, they might have been the first people she had seen for a year.

      Lady Ensdale was one of those rare aristocrats about whom no one spoke unkindly except, on occasion, about her voice, which any regimental captain would have been proud to own. One also had to accept her slight tendency to overdress, though there was no hint of cheapness in the finery. Her quiet husband and two charming sons adored her as, it seemed, did everyone else. Still blooming well into middle age, she possessed an enviable energy and zest for life, and now her welcome rang through the Great Hall, where the odd mixture of Tudor minstrels’ gallery and Georgian staircase epitomised the whole house and its eclectic contents.

      ‘You’ll know almost everybody,’ she called over her shoulder as she led them up the wide white staircase. ‘Only a small gathering this time. I’ve put all the ladies in the west wing and you, Seton dear, are in the east wing with the other men. Now don’t pull a face like that, wicked boy. What you get up to in the middle of the night is your business, but don’t trip over your hounds and wake us all up, that’s all I ask.’ Her laughter was infectious; even when they had closed the doors of their rooms, it could still be heard over the barking of dogs.

      Millie, the sisters’ maid, opened one of the small casement windows to see a flight of honking swans with peachy wings on their way towards the lake, the rippling V-shaped ribbon dropping lower and lower until it shattered the mirror of water with a splash and a flurry of feathers. Caterina and Sara leaned out to watch. ‘Only a small gathering this time,’ Sara murmured, smiling.

      Dressing for dinner as a guest in someone else’s house was always more fun than dressing for one’s own family, and Millie’s expertise was such that she could easily attend to both her charges at the same time, having once been a dressmaker’s talented apprentice. There was nothing she didn’t know about the latest fashions, accessories and hairstyles, or the art of wearing them with panache, nor was there ever any argument about what the sisters should wear when their tastes were so different.