Страница 3 из 90
Heart racing, Patience sucked in a breath and sailed into the dim passage. Without slowing her pace, she inclined her head in regal, over-the-shoulder dismissal. "I'll speak to Masters directly-I'm sure my aunt won't keep you long." With that, she swept on, down the passage and into the dark hallway beyond.
Poised on the threshold, Vane watched her retreat through narrowed eyes. He'd sensed the awareness that had flared at his touch, the quiver of consciousness she hadn't been able to hide. For gentlemen such as he, that was proof enough of what might be.
His gaze fell on the small grey cat which had hugged Patience Debbington's skirts; it now sat on the ru
From its imperious tone, Vane deduced it was female.
Behind him, lightning flashed. He looked back at the darkened day. Thunder rolled-a second later, the heavens opened. Rain pelted down, sheets of heavy drops obliterating the landscape.
Fate's message couldn't have been clearer: escape was impossible.
His features grim, Vane closed the door-and followed the cat.
"Nothing could be more fortuitous!" Araminta, Lady Bellamy, beamed delightedly at Vane. "Of course you must stay. But the second gong will go any minute, so cut line. How is everyone?"
Propping his shoulders against the mantelpiece, Vane smiled. Wrapped in expensive shawls, her rotund figure encased in silk and lace, a frilled widow's cap atop sprightly white curls, Mi
"Too taken with admiring his heir, I'll wager. Daresay that wife of his will keep him in line." Mi
Vane's face hardened. "No. His disappearance remains a mystery."
Mi
"Indeed."
Mi
Her tone was all i
Vane smiled, suavely charming. "We do our poor best." Mi
"A whole parcel of odds and ends," Timms offered.
Mi
"Daughter?"
Mi
Vane grimaced. "Thank you for the warning."
"Henry Chadwick must be about your age," Mi
Vane merely raised his brows.
"Now, who else?" Mi
Vane nodded. The General, a brusque, ex-military man, had lived at Bellamy Hall for years; his title was not a formal one, but a nickname earned by his emphatically regimental air. Edgar Polinbrooke, too, had been Mi
"Don't forget Whitticombe," Timms put in.
"How could I forget Whitticombe?" Mi
Vane raised a questioning brow.
"Mr. Whitticombe Colby and his sister, Alice," Mi
"As for Alice-well, she's just Alice." Mi
Vane's brows rose high. "I suspect it would be wise if I steered clear of her."
"Do." Mi
Vane cast her a jaundiced look.
"I think that's it. Oh, no-I forgot Patience and Gerrard." Mi
Studying Mi
"My younger sister's children. They're orphans now. Gerrard's seventeen-he inherited the Grange, a nice little property in Derbyshire, from his father, Sir Reginald Debbington." Mi
Vane sifted through his memories. "Was he the one who broke his neck while out with the Cottesmore?"
Mi
Vane studied that smile. "Oh?"
"Thinks she's on the shelf and couldn't care less. Says she'll think about marrying after Gerrard's settled."
Timms snorted. "Too single-minded for her own good."
Mi
Vane raised a cynical brow. "While in reality, you plan to play matchmaker."
"Precisely." Mi
Vane inclined his head noncommittally.
A gong boomed in the distance.
"Damn!" Mi
"Your wish is my command." Vane swept her an elegant bow; straightening, he slanted her an arrogantly rakish smile. "Cynsters never leave ladies unsatisfied."
Timms snorted so hard she choked.
Vane left the room to chortles, chuckles, and gleeful, anticipatory whispers.