Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 05] - Nanette by Patricia Veryan

for what was the use of pursuing that golden vision? He was
possessed of neither fortune nor expectations. He was, in fact, the
kind of man hopeful mamas would dub a fortune hunter and instruct their
daughters to avoid like the plague! That peerless little beauty was
undoubtedly en route to Town—perhaps to be presented at the next
Drawing Room. The lateness of the Season would be no deterrent to such
as she, and many a lucky Corinthian and Buck would worship at her
shrine before she'd been in London a week. He turned Lace back towards
the "Silk Purse," smiling wistfully at the thought of the consternation
the lady's arrival must cause among Almack's debutantes. How he'd love
to see it…
     
    The wind came up while they were still in the coffee room, and
by the time they were journeying up the last hill, Bolster was very
depressed. He was fond of Moire Grange, his memories of the old place
going back as far as memory served him. Harry seemed to be taking it
well enough, but aware that his feelings must be harrowing at this
moment, Bolster glanced at his friend uneasily.
    Harry drew rein at the top of the hill and sat perfectly
still. Why did one never really appreciate anything until it was lost?
He let his eyes travel slowly along the winding path of the river, past
the lodge gates, through the pleasant park, and around the foot of the
low rise whereon stood the house itself. Even on this grey morning the
spreading half-timbered old building looked warm and welcoming, with
smoke drifting from several chimneys. The wind stirred the trees and
riffled the surface of the river, and the ducks and mudhens darted
busily about. The flower beds were bright with daffodil and hyacinth;
the shrubs ablaze with yellow, pink, and white. His gaze lingered on
the enormous and venerable oak shading the library and Mitchell's room,
from whose branches so many impromptu swings had swung. How many tree
houses it had supported… how many Redmonds had it seen come and go…
    Bolster asked mildly, "Ain't that old Joseph?"
    Harry blinked, and his jaw hardened. The butler's head was
white now, but he was not too frail to put up a good struggle against
the stocky man who sought to thrust him down the hill. Even as they
watched, Joseph staggered and fell, and the other man tossed a valise
after him, made a show of dusting off his hands, and started back
toward the house.
    "Jeremy," said Redmond. "D'you recall that fat damn Spaniard
in Cadiz?"
    "Yoicks!" cried Bolster joyfully.
    Side by side, they thundered down the hill. In a blaze of
speed the bay mare and the grey gelding raced up the rise and were upon
the stocky man even as he turned a startled face to them. Two splendid
horsemen leaned down. Two strong hands grasped.
    '"Ey!" howled the stocky one, legs thrashing at the air.
    "Put that man down!" bellowed an infuriated voice from the
front door.
    They obliged at once, and their burden soared, screeching,
from their mutually relinquished hold, to splash into the river. Two
laughing young faces turned to one another; two hats were doffed; two
heads, one golden, one dark, bowed low.
    "Wot the 'ell d'ye think you're blasted well a'doing of?"
roared the individual in the doorway.
    Harry dismounted and led Lace toward his butler, who had
scrambled to his feet.
    "Sir Harry…" gasped Joseph, eyes glistening suspiciously. "I
am so very glad… to…" He broke off as Redmond's hand went out and,
gripping it firmly, could not continue.
    "I know, old friend," said Harry gently. "It don't look too
bright just now. But you must not—"
    "I said," yowled that irate voice, now almost upon them. "Wot
the 'ell—"
    "Be quiet!" frowned Lord Bolster. "Sir Harry is talking to his
butler. Are you blind, fellow?"
    "
Fellow
? 'Ere! 'Oo you callin' of a
fellow?"
    Harry turned, smiling faintly. A large individual wearing a
much-too-tight jacket and a waistcoat that could not begin to cover his
ample paunch regarded him balefully. "Bolster," he said curiously,
"What d'ye