Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 08] - Sanguinet's Crown by Patricia Veryan

under their thick lashes.
    "Oh—I don't know.'' His lordship strolled to the press and
extracted a splendid dark grey coat of Bath suiting. "What d'you think
of this?" he asked, holding it up for inspection.
    "Weston?"
    Bolster beamed. "Believe it or not, my lad, it's from a
ch-chap I found in Guildford…"
    He rambled on, proud of having found so fine a tailor who was
also less outrageous in his charges than the mighty Weston. It all
sounded very innocuous, but, resting his chin on one hand, Redmond
watched him speculatively. If old Jerry
was
here
to rendezvous with the elusive Diccon, he was being confoundedly adroit
about concealing it, which did not fit the mould. Honest and loyal and
full of pluck was Bolster, but not noted for his mental acuity.
    His lordship crossed to the dressing table and began to brush
his straight yellow hair. "Didn't know you was acquainted with Strand,"
he remarked casually. "Good old boy, isn't he?"
    "I'm not acquainted with him, actually. Ran into a friend of
his in Paris and was charged with a message for him."
    "Jove! Beastly luck to be waylaid for your tr-trouble."
    Redmond agreed and said affably that he would rest here for
another day or two and then head back to Town. Jerry, he decided, was
at Strand Hall by pure coincidence. The dear old chap was simply
incapable of deception and could never have managed to behave with such
sang-froid
unless he had indeed nothing to hide.
    A bright young man, Mitchell Redmond, who in his days at
Oxford had been his tutor's delight and widely held to have every
chance for a fellowship. That goal, once so assiduously pursued, had
been abandoned many months ago. Perhaps, during the dissolute time that
had followed, some of his brilliance had dimmed. Certain it was that he
did not know Lord Jeremy Bolster quite as well as he supposed.

Chapter 4
    Charity's joy at recovering the use of her legs after being
confined to an invalid chair for three years manifested itself in her
frequent use of them. The weather had to be very inclement indeed to
force the abandonment of her morning ride or her afternoon walk. There
were many pleasant walks in and around the Strand preserves, and when
Rachel was comfortably settled for the daily nap Dr. Bellows insisted
upon, Charity slipped out of the house and started off across the park,
basket on her arm, in search of bluebells.
    The air was quite warm for the time of year; no breeze stirred
the trees, and even the birds seemed to pipe drowsily. As she strolled
along, Charity's thoughts drifted to their guests. Lord Bolster had
come down to luncheon looking very smart in his changed dress. As
usual, he was a cheerful companion, and they had all enjoyed his
account of the new additions to the family of the Marquis of Damon.
Despite his apparently rapid retreat from the Priory, it was obvious
that Bolster had been intrigued by the two baby boys. Charity smiled as
she turned her steps toward the Home Wood. Dear Jerry. What a wonderful
father he would make some day. And Amanda must be the kindest creature
any child could have for a mama.
    Their other guest had not come down for luncheon; Bolster had
said he was resting, which was, thought Charity, very obliging of him.
She felt a twinge of guilt. It was unkind to judge so harshly. Mr.
Redmond might still be troubled of his wound; a man could not be
expected to behave in a courteous manner at such a time. At once,
perversely, she could see Devenish lying on the dank cellar floor in
Dinan, patiently enduring while the apothecary cut the crossbow bolt
from his leg. She had thought he must die from the pain of it, but he
had not made a sound, nor uttered a word of complaint through all their
desperate flight back to England, with Claude Sanguinet's hounds
hunting high and low for them… She shuddered and, finding that she had
stopped walking, went on quickly.
    The shadows were lengthening across the lush grasses, the
mellow light of late afternoon laying its golden mantle over