Regency High Society Vol 3. Elizabeth Rolls

upon his chest, planting full red lips upon his mouth.

      After recovering from the shock of witnessing such wanton behaviour in a member of her sex, Katherine felt herself in the grip of an emotion quite foreign to her nature, before anger and acute resentment won control. For almost two days she had been forced to endure the humiliation of being virtually ignored for most of the time. But be damned if she would be overlooked yet again whilst he enjoyed an amorous woman’s embrace! she decided, inwardly seething, and drew immediate attention to her presence by clearing her throat quite pointedly.

      Large brown eyes, clearly betraying surprise, peered above Daniel’s left shoulder. ‘But what have we here, mon cher Daniel?’ the woman enquired in a voice that was both silky smooth and seductively husky.

      Suddenly appearing highly embarrassed, Daniel disengaged the slender arms from about his neck and held her away. ‘Josephine, may I present Miss O’Malley … Katherine, this is my good friend Madame Carre.’

      Katherine swiftly discovered that dark eyes could glint with seductive invitation one moment and become quite disconcertingly direct in the next, when Madame looked her over from head to toe, her gaze openly assessing and remarkably astute.

      Her full lips curling into a provocative smile, Madame then returned her attention to Daniel. ‘You naughty, naughty man! What have you been doing that you must bring this girl to me?’

      ‘Not what you might suppose, Josephine,’ he hurriedly assured her before she could give voice to further outrageous assumptions. ‘But I do require your help. Katherine and I need somewhere to stay tonight. And, more importantly, we need to find someone who’ll be willing to take us across to England as swiftly as possible. I shall explain everything to you presently. But first, have you a room where Katherine may go … where she’ll be safe and—er—left quite undisturbed?’

      A look clearly betraying immediate understanding flickered over the Frenchwoman’s expressive features. ‘Of course, my friend,’ she assured him as she reached for the tiny silver bell on the table by her elbow.

      Quite some time later, after having been plied with refreshments, and having experienced the sheer luxury of bathing and washing her hair in rose-scented water, Katherine’s opinion of the formidable housekeeper had undergone something of a change. From the moment Madame Carre had instructed her servant to take good care of their unexpected guest, the housekeeper could not possibly have done more to oblige, and was even now taking the trouble to groom the long red hair which she had patiently dried on a fluffy towel.

      ‘Your hair is beautiful, mademoiselle,’ she remarked, at last setting the brush aside. ‘Many women would give much to call it their own.’

      Maybe, Katherine mused, smiling up at the surprisingly kindly servant through the dressing-table mirror. She knew, however, of at least one person who didn’t hold her auburn mane in the highest regard.

      ‘There will be time for you to rest a while before dinner, mademoiselle. I shall return presently to dress your hair and shall bring some suitable garments for you to wear. Your own clothes will be freshly laundered and will be returned to you by morning.’

      Surprisingly light on her feet for a woman of her size, the housekeeper went over to the door, her expression clearly troubled as she turned back to add, ‘Should you require anything further, please do not hesitate to make use of the bell-pull. But I beg of you, mademoiselle, under no circumstances leave this room. The house is large, and I should hate for you to lose yourself.’

      Puzzled, Katherine watched the housekeeper withdraw. How on earth was she supposed to take that strange warning? she wondered. Was the woman truly concerned over her safety, or was she perhaps afraid that the unexpected guest might be tempted to purloin the family’s silver?

      What an odd creature the housekeeper was, to be sure! Bemused, Katherine shook her head, sending her long hair floating about her shoulders like a swathe of silk. It was almost as if the woman had a dual personality, not unlike the house in which she worked. One half totally at variance with the other, Katherine mused, as she gazed with renewed interest about the apartments into which she had been escorted some little time before. In stark contrast with the vibrant colours in the ground-floor salon, the bedchamber was charmingly decorated in subtle shades of primrose and cream. Foolish though it might be, it was hard to believe that she was in the same house.

      Rising to her feet, she went over to the window, which offered a view of an enclosed garden. Madame Carre too, like her house and devoted servant, was something of an enigma. Who was she? More importantly, what part had she played—did she continue to play—in Daniel’s life? The way she had greeted him in that over-familiar fashion suggested strongly that at some point they had been rather more than mere friends.

      The cruelly stabbing thorns of that unfamiliar emotion once again made themselves felt, but Katherine steadfastly refused not to face the very real possibility that at some period in the past the vivacious Madame Carre had been Daniel’s mistress. But if that was the case, what had become of Monsieur Carre? Had there in truth ever been such a person and, if so, where was he now? More importantly, where was Daniel himself? And why had he left her here alone with only strangers?

      A blessed surge of anger began to protect her from those wickedly stabbing barbs, and she swung away from the window, as bored with the restricted view as she was with the confines of this bedchamber. But what could she do? Her clothes had been removed for laundering, and she had been given the flimsiest of dressing robes to cover her modesty.

      Suddenly feeling weary, Katherine glanced across at the four-poster bed, and after a moment’s indecision decided to avail herself of its comfort. A book lay open on the bedside table, and she decided to make use of that too. Fortunately she could read and understand the French language far better than she could speak it, and was able therefore to follow the story of a pair of star-crossed lovers reasonably well. Eventually, though, the effort of translation became too much, and her eyelids grew increasingly heavy.

      * * *

      Katherine would have sworn she had dozed for a few minutes only. Be that as it may, when she opened her eyes it was to discover the drapes drawn across the window, the bedchamber bathed in soft candlelight, and to see a pile of clothes neatly placed at the bottom of the bed.

      The position of the hands on the mantel-clock confirmed that she had, surprisingly, slept soundly for more than two hours. Hurriedly slipping her feet to the floor, she wasted no time in scrambling into the clothes, which were a perfect fit, and exactly to her taste, except for the slightly immodest neckline on the pretty muslin gown. This minor defect was immediately remedied by the donning of a silk shawl, which she arranged carefully about her shoulders as she crossed to the bell-pull.

      She raised her arm, but her reaching fingers were stilled for a second or two by a disquieting sound, somewhere between a scream and a squeal. Then, clasping the velvet cord and tugging sharply, Katherine momentarily wondered what the noise might have been—the wind, whistling about the eaves, or perhaps two cats at odds in the garden? Then she clearly detected the noise again, clearer and more shrill this time, and definitely coming from somewhere inside the house.

      Certain that someone must be hurt, and perhaps in need of help, she conveniently forgot the housekeeper’s warning and immediately went to investigate. The long passageway outside the room had doors leading off at intervals on both left and right, but she judged the odd cry must have come from behind that single closed door at the very end. Beneath her guiding fingers its key turned easily in the lock and the wooden barrier swung wide to reveal the continuation of the passageway in a dazzling blaze of light, its floor, walls and ceiling decorated in the same garish colours as were to be found in the main salon below, its atmosphere heavy, too, with the aroma of cheap perfume.

      For a few moments it was as much as Katherine could do to gape in wonder, in disbelief. It was like suddenly finding oneself in another world, a totally alien place—intriguing but unnerving, and undoubtedly littered with unseen snares primed to entrap the unwary. Faint-hearted she had never been, and yet some sixth sense kept her rooted to the spot, as that cautionary little voice in her head gave