miles around to enjoy the hospitality he offers.”
“A safe haven, indeed,” Roberta remarked cryptically, and bustled off to her room, with Mrs. Ashley close behind.
The food was every bit as good as Sir Nicholas had promised, and by the time the last covers had been removed and the sweet wine drunk, there was a general feeling of good humor between them. Even Mrs. Ashley had unbent and had shown a remarkable friendliness toward Sir Nicholas.
If she only knew the truth of it, Roberta thought as they made their way from the private dining room to their respective bedrooms, she would be acting quite differently towards him. But it suited her plan for Mrs. Ashley to behave that way, for it would help lull Sir Nicholas into a false sense of security.
There was a long public passageway to negotiate between the dining room and the stairs, and as Roberta had been the one to open the door, she was, in effect, leading the party to bed. She passed one room whose door was slightly ajar, and with casual curiosity peeped in. Several men were seated around a large oval table, and she could see someone’s hand dealing cards.
“It would appear that it is not only the food that attracts people here,” she remarked as Sir Nicholas joined her. “Do they play for very high stakes?”
“Sometimes,” he answered as he closed the door. “I have seen men lose large fortunes at that table.”
Roberta shook her head in bafflement. “I have never understood what drives men to gamble all on the turn of a card.”
“Women do as well,” Sir Nicholas returned with a grin, although with his falsely aged face it looked more like a grimace. “There was one in particular, I remember—don’t turn now,” he continued as he hunched his shoulders slightly; “the comte is coming up behind you—disgusting performance, Roberta,” he said, his voice rising angrily, “and one I wish you had witnessed. It would have taught you a lesson.”
“Quite so, Papa,” she said blithely, taking a few steps toward Sir Nicholas’s right side. “Only, as I have never been tempted to gamble, I am at a loss to understand quite what lesson I would have learned by seeing this woman lose a fortune.”
“That’s not the point, Roberta,” he grumbled as he leaned further over his cane. “You never know when temptation will come your way.”
Mrs. Ashley looked curiously at the two of them and shrugged her shoulders. She had seen the stranger approaching and assumed they were enacting the scene for his benefit. Filled as she was with several glasses of wine, she decided to add further credence to their performance.
“Come, come, Roberta,” she chided. “Leave your father in peace. You know you shouldn’t agitate him just before bedtime.” She brushed past them, tut-tutting, and continued past the comte, raising her eyebrows in seeming exasperation. “I never knew a more argumentative family,” she sighed mournfully, and mounted the stairs. She thought she had seen the man nod in sympathy, and as she let herself into her bedroom, she felt well pleased by her performance.
“With your cheeseparing ways, Papa,” Roberta continued crossly, “even if temptation did cross my path, I wouldn’t have the means to be more than a bystander. Anyway, Ashley is quite right. You mustn’t work yourself up into such a state so late in the evening. I’ll see you to your door. Williams will be there to help you undress.” She turned and started in surprise as the comte stepped in front of her. “You!” she gasped. “Ahem! Good evening. I had not expected to see you again.”
The comte smiled, but Roberta noticed that his eyes remained hard and cold. “Mademoiselle Rushforth,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it, “I hope you have forgiven me.”
“Roberta!” Sir Nicholas snapped. “Who is this man? Why is he fondling you in such a fashion?”
The comte seemed unmoved by Sir Nicholas’s questions, but Roberta, looking utterly adorable in
“A safe haven, indeed,” Roberta remarked cryptically, and bustled off to her room, with Mrs. Ashley close behind.
The food was every bit as good as Sir Nicholas had promised, and by the time the last covers had been removed and the sweet wine drunk, there was a general feeling of good humor between them. Even Mrs. Ashley had unbent and had shown a remarkable friendliness toward Sir Nicholas.
If she only knew the truth of it, Roberta thought as they made their way from the private dining room to their respective bedrooms, she would be acting quite differently towards him. But it suited her plan for Mrs. Ashley to behave that way, for it would help lull Sir Nicholas into a false sense of security.
There was a long public passageway to negotiate between the dining room and the stairs, and as Roberta had been the one to open the door, she was, in effect, leading the party to bed. She passed one room whose door was slightly ajar, and with casual curiosity peeped in. Several men were seated around a large oval table, and she could see someone’s hand dealing cards.
“It would appear that it is not only the food that attracts people here,” she remarked as Sir Nicholas joined her. “Do they play for very high stakes?”
“Sometimes,” he answered as he closed the door. “I have seen men lose large fortunes at that table.”
Roberta shook her head in bafflement. “I have never understood what drives men to gamble all on the turn of a card.”
“Women do as well,” Sir Nicholas returned with a grin, although with his falsely aged face it looked more like a grimace. “There was one in particular, I remember—don’t turn now,” he continued as he hunched his shoulders slightly; “the comte is coming up behind you—disgusting performance, Roberta,” he said, his voice rising angrily, “and one I wish you had witnessed. It would have taught you a lesson.”
“Quite so, Papa,” she said blithely, taking a few steps toward Sir Nicholas’s right side. “Only, as I have never been tempted to gamble, I am at a loss to understand quite what lesson I would have learned by seeing this woman lose a fortune.”
“That’s not the point, Roberta,” he grumbled as he leaned further over his cane. “You never know when temptation will come your way.”
Mrs. Ashley looked curiously at the two of them and shrugged her shoulders. She had seen the stranger approaching and assumed they were enacting the scene for his benefit. Filled as she was with several glasses of wine, she decided to add further credence to their performance.
“Come, come, Roberta,” she chided. “Leave your father in peace. You know you shouldn’t agitate him just before bedtime.” She brushed past them, tut-tutting, and continued past the comte, raising her eyebrows in seeming exasperation. “I never knew a more argumentative family,” she sighed mournfully, and mounted the stairs. She thought she had seen the man nod in sympathy, and as she let herself into her bedroom, she felt well pleased by her performance.
“With your cheeseparing ways, Papa,” Roberta continued crossly, “even if temptation did cross my path, I wouldn’t have the means to be more than a bystander. Anyway, Ashley is quite right. You mustn’t work yourself up into such a state so late in the evening. I’ll see you to your door. Williams will be there to help you undress.” She turned and started in surprise as the comte stepped in front of her. “You!” she gasped. “Ahem! Good evening. I had not expected to see you again.”
The comte smiled, but Roberta noticed that his eyes remained hard and cold. “Mademoiselle Rushforth,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it, “I hope you have forgiven me.”
“Roberta!” Sir Nicholas snapped. “Who is this man? Why is he fondling you in such a fashion?”
The comte seemed unmoved by Sir Nicholas’s questions, but Roberta, looking utterly adorable in
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