Regency High Society Vol 3. Elizabeth Rolls

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 in the vast majority of masculine eyes, even in those not disposed to admire her particular colouring. ‘You look lovely, Miss Katherine.’

      This sentiment was echoed a few moments later when Mrs Wentworth entered the bedchamber to bear her niece company down to the large salon where the party was to be held. ‘Every time I look at you, Katherine, I am struck by the resemblance you bear your dear mother,’ she admitted, not reluctant to disclose the thoughts that had passed through her mind shortly after her niece’s arrival earlier in the day.

      Katherine, her eyes shadowed by a moment’s bitter regret, cast a surreptitious glance up at her aunt through the dressing-table mirror. Undeniably her mother had been the far prettier sister. None the less, she might have wished that her mother had possessed some of her younger sibling’s strength of character. Her dear aunt, Katherine felt sure, would not wither like an exotic bloom touched by the first frost if—God forbid!—anything should ever happen to her husband. Lavinia Wentworth would fight and survive for the sake of her children.

      ‘And you resemble your maternal grandmother too, now I come to consider the matter,’ Mrs Wentworth added. ‘Little wonder dear Papa was so very fond of you!’

      ‘And I was very fond of him,’ Katherine was not slow to confess. ‘My one bitter regret is that we were not given the opportunity to enjoy each other’s company for a great deal longer.’

      ‘Yes, I too feel that was a pity,’ her aunt agreed softly. ‘My father, I clearly remember, very much appreciated modesty in our sex. Surprisingly enough, though, he also admired intelligent women who were not afraid to voice their opinions. He would have found much pleasure in your company, my dear.’

      Katherine couldn’t prevent a wry smile at this, as she cast a brief glance in her maid’s direction. ‘You are the second person today who has remarked on the fact that I am not afraid to speak my mind,’ she admitted, rising to her feet, and entwining her arm through her aunt’s. ‘However, I promise to be on my best behaviour this evening, and will endeavour to keep a firm hold on my occasionally ungovernable tongue.’

      Katherine then accompanied her highly amused aunt downstairs to the large salon, there to discover both her cousin, looking bright-eyed and excited, and her uncle, noticeably less so, hovering near the door in readiness to receive their guests.