Night of a Thousand Stars. Deanna Raybourn

breaking into more of his peculiar barking laughter. “Now, tell me about your references,” he commanded, watching me slyly.

      “References?” My voice was hollow. It hadn’t even occurred to me to forge any, and I wondered then if finishing school had been a colossal waste of time when it came to equipping a girl with the skills that really mattered.

      I had paused too long. The colonel knew I had none and laughed again. “Now, now, don’t look so downcast. I heard all I needed from young Cubby. The boy’s an ass, but he has nice friends, and all he tells me about you is that you’re in a spot of bother.”

      His eyes were kindly, and I hurried to reassure him. “Nothing important, Colonel. But I do find myself in need of a job and there isn’t much I am qualified to do.”

      “Why not nursery governess?”

      I shuddered. “I don’t much care for babies. I mean, I might like one if it were mine, but as I’ve never had one I can’t say for sure. My mother had four after me, and I never much liked them as infants.”

      “Too froggy-looking,” he agreed. “Why not shop assistant?”

      I smiled. “I don’t think I have the temperament to deal with difficult people.”

      “Ha! And what makes you think I won’t be difficult?” he asked, leaning forward, his eyes alight under those caterpillar brows.

      “Because you are a gentleman,” I returned sweetly.

      He preened and puffed a little, and that’s when I knew the job was mine. We fell to discussing terms. The salary was not ungenerous, and the responsibilities were simple ones.

      “Handwriting is a bit untidy these days,” he said ruefully, “so deciphering it might be a bit of a bore, but you can always ask. Chances are, I won’t be able to read it myself and we’ll just have to make something up,” he added with a jolly smile. “I’ve been working on the memoir for years and I’ve made a pig’s breakfast of it. It needs a steady hand and clear eye to bring some order to it. Aside from that, just a bit of light secretarial work—writing the odd letter and so forth, keeping me company with a bit of chess. And of course helping out with Peeky when Talbot isn’t around,” he added.

      “Peeky?”

      As if on cue, the door opened and the beautiful valet entered bearing an armful of moth-eaten rug.

      “Peeky,” the colonel told me. Talbot deposited the dog onto his master’s lap, and it looked at me with disdain. It was a Pekinese of middle age and uncertain temperament. But Pekes were Mother’s particular favourite, and I knew precisely how to handle them.

      “That won’t be a problem,” I promised.

      Talbot slipped out again, and Peeky looked after him longingly. I sympathised.

      The colonel’s hand absently stroked the Peke’s fur. “The truth is, Miss March, I could get a fellow to handle these things. For that matter, I could have Talbot attend to them. He’s a competent enough chap. But the truth is, I like young people, and there’s something about having a female around that just—” he broke off, his manner slightly uncomfortable as he made his confession. “Dash it all, I just think a lady makes it all nicer.”

      “I understand,” I told him. And I did. There was something infinitely depressing about a bachelor establishment, I had always felt. Actually, there was something infinitely depressing about finishing schools for that matter. Too much of one’s own sex was a dangerous thing.

      “Well, then,” he said gruffly, putting out his hand. “Welcome aboard, Miss March.”

      I shook hands with him and stayed to tea, and attempted to make friends with Peeky, who stared down his nose and loathed me quietly. I would have to work on that one, I decided as I rose to leave. The colonel had slumped a little in his chair, snoring gently, and it was Talbot who showed me out.

      We paused at the door. “Looks as if he’s taken quite a shine to you,” he said, jerking his head back towards the colonel’s sitting room. “Can’t say as I blame him.”

      The eyes were dancing again, and I pulled a serious face. “Mr. Talbot, am I going to have trouble with you?”

      “No more than you ask for,” he told me with a grin. Then he put out his own hand for me to shake. “You mustn’t take me too seriously, Miss March. I’m simply giddy with delight that there will be a prettier face than mine around here. It gets rather lonely with just us elderly bachelors, the colonel, Peeky and myself.”

      I shook his hand, and he held it the merest second too long.

      “Thank you, Mr. Talbot.”

      He shook his head. “No, miss. The colonel won’t like that. You might work for him, too, but he knows you are a lady. To you, I’m just Talbot.”

      “That hardly seems right,” I protested.

      His expression was rueful. “You’ll find out soon enough—he might be a splendid old fellow, but this is not a democracy, Miss March. Good afternoon.”

      “Good afternoon, Talbot,” I said. I made my way out of the hotel and into a watery grey afternoon. A spring storm had blown up while I was inside, and the pavements were wet. The clouds were low and ominous, the wind cruel as only a March wind can be. I had forgot my umbrella and my coat was impossibly thin. Within minutes I was soaked through, but I didn’t mind. I was leaving for the Holy Land in a week’s time. I had done it.

      Masterman was less impressed when I told her I had taken the post. We met in our little room at the hotel she had found, and I was crackling with excitement. Masterman was considerably more subdued as she hung up my wet coat and stuffed newspaper into my shoes.

      “You cannot seriously mean to work for this man,” she protested. She set the shoes well away from the fire to dry slowly.

      “I can and I do,” I told her firmly. “Now, we haven’t much time to make our arrangements. The colonel expects me to begin work the day of our departure, so that gives us only a few days to travel down to Father’s and pack up my things, and we still have to book your passage.”

      She shook her head. “I feel peculiar.”

      “Take a bromide.”

      “It’s not indigestion,” she said. “And you mustn’t be flippant. It’s gone too far now.”

      I blinked at her in astonishment. “Masterman, this is what we have been working towards. How can you possibly say it’s gone too far?”

      She spread her hands. They were surprisingly elegant hands, but capable. They knew how to do things and do them well. My own hands seemed silly and childish by comparison.

      “I thought you were merely having a little adventure, a grand little adventure.”

      “And what did you think would happen when it was finished? How did you think it would end?”

      “I thought you would realise you haven’t a hope of finding Sebastian. I thought it would all just...stop. I expected you would go back to the life you came from.”

      I felt a surge of anger. “This isn’t just a lark, Masterman. Sebastian could be in trouble—injured or even dead for all we know.”

      “And you really think you can find him?” she asked evenly. I had the strangest feeling she was testing me, and I rose to the bait.

      My hands fisted at my sides. “Why not? Why should it fall to someone else to care what happened to him? He was kind to me when I needed it. He went out of his way to help me, and I owe him a debt, Masterman. I can’t just walk away now. I’ve spent my entire life walking away from things.”

      Her expression was curious. “Miss?”

      “Oh, very well! Gerald wasn’t the first,” I confessed miserably. “I’ve been very nearly engaged twice before. I’ve managed to avoid