such short notice—unaccustomed as I am to this huge metropolis, I confess I found the prospect of going from door to door seeking another situation extremely daunting.’ Colonel Montague shocked her when he touched her gently under her chin. She caught her breath sharply as he tilted her face upward again and looked into his eyes.
Her gratitude appeared to entertain him—his chiselled face softened considerably as he held her gaze. ‘I am happy to be of service, Miss Napier.’
Her heart pounded at the light but sure pressure of his warm fingertips against her skin.
He smiled and lowered his hand to his side. ‘The Arbuthnots have left for Brighton?’
‘Yes, this very day.’
‘And you have brought your luggage with you?’
‘Yes, sir, although I do not possess much, as you see,’ she answered, indicating her one bag by the door.
‘One of the footmen will see it is carried to your room.’
Lisette showed her surprise. ‘But I have not yet met your housekeeper. I have my reference...’
‘Which I have no doubt will give you an excellent character, but I prefer to judge for myself.’ A woman seemed to appear from nowhere. ‘Ah, here is Mrs Whitelaw. I’ll leave you in her capable hands.’
* * *
Ross entered the hallowed rooms of White’s, the gentleman’s club in St James’s, where he had arranged to meet his cousin, Lord Harry Montague. The rooms were cloaked in the quiet, restrained ambience, redolent of the masculine smells of sandalwood, leather and cigars.
He scanned the room, his gaze coming to rest on a tall, dramatically dark gentleman clothed in black. He stood watching the play at the hazard table. With no wish to join in, raising a brandy to his lips, the impression Harry gave off was of bored indifference. Lifting his head, the instant he saw his cousin, his handsome countenance lightened. The two strode towards each other and they met in the doorway to the card room, where they clasped arms, laughing.
‘Good to have you home, Ross,’ Harry said. ‘Back for good, are you?’
‘No—extended leave.’ Ross took Harry’s arm and led him to a table that offered privacy.
A worried shadow darkened Harry’s eyes as he seated himself across from Ross and thought about the strangely vague note asking him to meet his cousin here. After politely enquiring about the health of Araminta and their maternal aunt, Lady Grace Mannering, he sat back and waited for Ross to enlighten him as to the purpose of this meeting.
‘Glad to learn you made it back from Waterloo, Harry, but it was bad news about Edward,’ Ross said, ordering a couple of brandies.
The emotions Harry suffered over the death of his younger brother at Waterloo and carefully concealed from others were evident now in the tautness of his clenched jaw as he glanced at his cousin. ‘It is a tragedy felt by the whole family. It was one hell of a battle, but we finally got those bastards.’ Drinking deep of his brandy he looked at Ross. ‘Anything in particular you wanted to see me about? I got the feeling there was a sense of urgency about your note.’
Meeting Harry’s arrested stare, Ross hesitated and then he said gravely, ‘I’ve received a letter from Giles. He asked me to speak to you about Jamie.’
‘Jamie’s still listed as missing.’
‘I believe he disappeared when the army made the push for Toulouse. He wasn’t with the rest of them when they crossed the river. I understand he was swept away.’
‘Jamie is...was a strong swimmer.’
‘I imagine the current was too strong, Harry.’
‘It looks like it. You know how I always looked up to Jamie.’
‘I know. There is something else—a couple of things, in fact, that make it imperative that you go to Spain, to search for Jamie’s body, or at least learn what happened to him as quickly as possible.’ Harry gave him a questioning look when he hesitated, but waited patiently for him to go on. ‘The first concerns the Montague finances. Shortly
Her gratitude appeared to entertain him—his chiselled face softened considerably as he held her gaze. ‘I am happy to be of service, Miss Napier.’
Her heart pounded at the light but sure pressure of his warm fingertips against her skin.
He smiled and lowered his hand to his side. ‘The Arbuthnots have left for Brighton?’
‘Yes, this very day.’
‘And you have brought your luggage with you?’
‘Yes, sir, although I do not possess much, as you see,’ she answered, indicating her one bag by the door.
‘One of the footmen will see it is carried to your room.’
Lisette showed her surprise. ‘But I have not yet met your housekeeper. I have my reference...’
‘Which I have no doubt will give you an excellent character, but I prefer to judge for myself.’ A woman seemed to appear from nowhere. ‘Ah, here is Mrs Whitelaw. I’ll leave you in her capable hands.’
* * *
Ross entered the hallowed rooms of White’s, the gentleman’s club in St James’s, where he had arranged to meet his cousin, Lord Harry Montague. The rooms were cloaked in the quiet, restrained ambience, redolent of the masculine smells of sandalwood, leather and cigars.
He scanned the room, his gaze coming to rest on a tall, dramatically dark gentleman clothed in black. He stood watching the play at the hazard table. With no wish to join in, raising a brandy to his lips, the impression Harry gave off was of bored indifference. Lifting his head, the instant he saw his cousin, his handsome countenance lightened. The two strode towards each other and they met in the doorway to the card room, where they clasped arms, laughing.
‘Good to have you home, Ross,’ Harry said. ‘Back for good, are you?’
‘No—extended leave.’ Ross took Harry’s arm and led him to a table that offered privacy.
A worried shadow darkened Harry’s eyes as he seated himself across from Ross and thought about the strangely vague note asking him to meet his cousin here. After politely enquiring about the health of Araminta and their maternal aunt, Lady Grace Mannering, he sat back and waited for Ross to enlighten him as to the purpose of this meeting.
‘Glad to learn you made it back from Waterloo, Harry, but it was bad news about Edward,’ Ross said, ordering a couple of brandies.
The emotions Harry suffered over the death of his younger brother at Waterloo and carefully concealed from others were evident now in the tautness of his clenched jaw as he glanced at his cousin. ‘It is a tragedy felt by the whole family. It was one hell of a battle, but we finally got those bastards.’ Drinking deep of his brandy he looked at Ross. ‘Anything in particular you wanted to see me about? I got the feeling there was a sense of urgency about your note.’
Meeting Harry’s arrested stare, Ross hesitated and then he said gravely, ‘I’ve received a letter from Giles. He asked me to speak to you about Jamie.’
‘Jamie’s still listed as missing.’
‘I believe he disappeared when the army made the push for Toulouse. He wasn’t with the rest of them when they crossed the river. I understand he was swept away.’
‘Jamie is...was a strong swimmer.’
‘I imagine the current was too strong, Harry.’
‘It looks like it. You know how I always looked up to Jamie.’
‘I know. There is something else—a couple of things, in fact, that make it imperative that you go to Spain, to search for Jamie’s body, or at least learn what happened to him as quickly as possible.’ Harry gave him a questioning look when he hesitated, but waited patiently for him to go on. ‘The first concerns the Montague finances. Shortly
Similar Books
