Christmas Betrothals. Sophia James

keep a distance, Nat.’

      ‘Because of your intelligence work? You said it was over and finished. You said that you no longer worked for the army in any capacity.’

      ‘I don’t, but there are remnants of other things that don’t so easily fade.’

      The moon suddenly came out from behind the clouds and through the open curtains the landscape around this tiny corner of Kent was bathed in light. Touching the newly stitched scar on his cheek, Luc stood and downed the last of his drink. ‘You’re a family man now, Nat, with the promise of a child come the summer. Concentrate on those things, aye.’

      On the silver lawn an owl swooped, its talons catching a field mouse in full flight, taking it up into the sky, a small and struggling prey that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

      Like himself as a youngster, Luc thought, and unlatched the ties so that the curtains fell across the scene in a single heavy tumble of burgundy velvet.

       Chapter Ten

      ‘There is some evil afoot, Lillian,’ her father said quietly as she lifted the first of the Christmas garlands into place around the hearth in the blue salon. ‘Lord Paget has been found dead at his house this morning.’

      Lillian fastened the bough of pine before turning, trying to give herself some sense of time.

      ‘But he was with us at the weekend at the St Auburns.’

      ‘Which brings me to the very reason that I mention it. Some are saying that his death is suspicious for there was an argument, it seems, between him and Clairmont. The American has been taken in for questioning.’

      ‘But Mr Clairmont did not cause the argument, Father, he tried to stop it.’

      ‘Oh, well, no doubt the constabulary will get to the bottom of what happened and it’s hardly our problem. From all accounts the man is a renegade and why he continues to frequent the soirées of the ton eludes me. I for one would not give him the time of day.’ Standing beside her, he put his hand up to the greenery. ‘That looks lovely—will you place one on the other side too?’

      Lillian nodded, though the Christmas spirit had quite gone out of her as she thought back to the weekend.

      Luc Clairmont had already left when she had finally risen on the Sunday morning, accompanying Lady Caroline Shelby back to London! He had not stayed to find out more about her hastily whispered promise of feeling ‘something’ and had not tried to contact her since.

      Could he have murdered the man? For an insult? Her whole world was turning upside down and she had no way of stopping it doing so.

      The pile of decorations she had had the maid bring down from the attic lay before her, a job she usually enjoyed, but now … She looked over at the tin soldiers and varnished collages, the paper cornucopias all waiting to be filled and the hand-dipped candles that she had so lovingly fashioned last year. A pile of gay Christmas cards lay further afield and the dolls she used every Yuletide in the nativity scene beneath the tree were neatly packed in another box. All waiting!

      When a maid came to say that there was a caller and gave her the card of Caroline Shelby, she was almost relieved to be able to put off the effort of it all.

      ‘Please show her up,’ she instructed the girl and Lady Shelby appeared less than a scant moment later.

      ‘Miss Davenport! I am so sorry to intrude, but I have come on a matter of a most delicate sort.’

      Gesturing for the newcomer to sit, Lillian took the chair opposite and waited for her to begin. ‘It’s just I do not know what to do and you are so sensible and seem to know just exactly what next step to take about everything.’

      Lillian smiled through surprise and felt a lot older than the young and emotional girl opposite.

      ‘The thing is that I have found myself becoming increasingly attracted to Mr Lucas Clairmont from Virginia and I came because I heard you talking to him when you were recovering after your faint.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’ Of everything Caroline Shelby might have said this was the most unforeseen, and she hoped her own rush of emotion was not staining her face.

      ‘At the St Auburns’. I heard you say that you felt something for him.’

      Lillian made herself smile, the danger in the girl’s announcement very alarming. ‘Perhaps you have made an error, Lady Shelby, for I am about to be engaged to Lord Wilcox-Rice.’

      The woman looked uncertain. ‘I had not heard that.’

      ‘Probably because you were too busy fabricating untruths,’ she returned. ‘John and I have been promised to each other for the past three weeks and my father has given us his blessing.’

      Caroline Shelby stood, placing her bag across the crook of her arm. ‘Oh, well then, I shall say no more about any of it and ask most sincerely for your pardon of my conduct. I would also ask you, in the light of all that has been revealed, to keep the words spoken between us private. I should not wish any others to know.’

      ‘Of course not.’

      She rang the bell and the maid came immediately.

      ‘I bid you good afternoon, Lady Shelby.’ Lillian could hear the coldness in her words.

      ‘Good afternoon, Miss Davenport.’

      Once the woman had gone she sat down heavily on the couch. Gracious, could this day become any worse? She did not think that it possibly could although she was mistaken.

      Half an hour later John Wilcox-Rice arrived beaming.

      ‘I have just seen Lady Shelby and she led me to believe that you had had second thoughts about our engagement.’

      Lillian looked at him honestly for the first time in weeks. He was an ordinary man, some might even say a boring man, but he was not a murderer or a liar. Today his eyes were bright with hope and in his hands he held a copy of a book she had mentioned she would like to read whilst staying at the St Auburns’. She added ‘a thoughtful man’ to her list.

      ‘Perhaps we should speak to Father.’

      Ernest Davenport broke open his very best bottle of champagne and poured four glasses, her aunt Jean being summoned from her rooms to partake in the joyous news.

      ‘I cannot tell you how delighted I am with this announcement, Lillian. John here will make you a fine husband and your property will be well managed.’

      Her aunt Jean, not wishing to be outdone in gladness, clapped her hands. ‘When did you think to have the wedding, Lillian?’

      ‘We can decide on a date after Christmas, Aunt,’ she replied, the whole rigmarole of organising the occasion something she did not really wish to consider right now.

      ‘And a dress, we must find the most beautiful gown, my dear. Perhaps a trip to Paris to find it might be in order, Ernest?’

      Her father laughed, a sound Lillian had not heard in many months and her anxiety settled. ‘That seems like a very good idea to me, Jean.’

      John had come to stand near her, and he took her fingers in his own.

      ‘You have made me the happiest of fellows, my dear Lillian, the very happiest.’

      My dear? Goodness, he sounded exactly like her father. What would she call him? No name at all came to mind as she went over to the drinks table and helped herself to another generous glass of champagne, turning only when Eleanor was shown in by the maid, a look of surprise on her face.

      ‘I have just been given the news,’ she said, ‘and so I have come immediately. Mama and Papa are returning from the country tonight so the timing could not have been better.’

      With a smile she enveloped Lillian in her arms. ‘And you, sister-in-law—’ the words rolled off her tongue in an impish