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Chapter Three
I’ve been giving some thought to what you disclosed on the evening of my engagement party.’
The surprising admission succeeded in capturing Katherine’s attention, and she transferred her gaze from the spot beyond the parlour window, where the morning’s continuous rain had succeeded in creating a huge puddle on the terrace, to her cousin, who had been industriously plying her needle for the past half-hour. ‘About what?’ she prompted.
‘About Major Ross.’
The immediate response did not precisely please Katherine. Although his name had never once been mentioned within her hearing since the night of the party, she had been irritated by the number of times he had managed to encroach into her thoughts.
‘Before he returned to London Richard happened to mention,’ Caroline continued, ‘that Wellington himself thought very highly of the Major, and used him on many important missions.’
‘His bravery is not in question,’ Katherine pointed out, striving not to sound waspish. ‘I merely maintain that he is a heartless wretch who cares naught for the feelings of others.’
‘I’m not so certain you’re right about that,’ Caroline argued. Highly complaisant and sweet-natured though she was, she wasn’t afraid to voice an opinion if she held strong views on a subject. ‘I found myself in his company on more than one occasion during the evening of the party. I have to own, I rather liked him, even though I found his conversation a little—how shall I put it?—forthright. But Richard assured me that seasoned campaigners do tend to be plain-spoken and a little abrupt. And the Major was kind enough to fetch me a cup of fruit punch.’
‘Oh, well, that just goes to prove I misjudged him entirely, doesn’t it?’ Katherine rolled her eyes ceiling-wards. ‘Any gentleman who would fetch a lady refreshments must surely be a paragon of all the virtues!’
‘Furthermore,’ Caroline continued, smiling faintly at this blatant sarcasm, ‘Richard did furnish me with one tale about the Major that he’d heard from a fellow officer. Seemingly, appalling atrocities took place after our troops were successful in storming Badajoz. Major Ross, by all accounts, offered his protection to the wife of some French officer. I do not know all the details, you understand, because Richard didn’t consider it a suitable topic to discuss in my company. Nevertheless, what he did disclose was sufficient to convince me that any gentleman who would put his life at risk to protect a lady’s virtue must be a very honourable man. Which makes me wonder whether what you were told about him years ago was completely true.’
‘We do not know for certain that the story of his heroism at Badajoz is true either,’ Katherine pointed out. ‘You know how these tales are much embellished in the retelling.’
‘Mama was talking with him a good deal at the party. We could always ask her if she knows anything about his exploits,’ Caroline suggested, just as the door opened, and Mrs Wentworth herself entered the parlour.
Although Katherine had no wish to engage in a discussion about someone whom for years she had been happy to stigmatise as a heartless lecher, her cousin, evidently, was not of a similar mind, for Caroline hardly waited for her mother to settle herself comfortably in a chair, before she asked outright whether she was well acquainted with the gallant Major.
‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, dear,’ Mrs Wentworth responded, reaching for her embroidery. ‘When I left Dorsetshire to marry your father, Daniel was merely a boy, no more than six or seven, though I do remember his father very well. Edwin Ross was such a charming gentleman, and extremely astute. And Daniel, I feel, has grown into his image in both looks and character.’
Somehow managing to suppress a snort, Katherine made a supreme effort to concentrate on the book lying open on her lap, and ignore the ensuing conversation between mother and daughter. Unfortunately she was only moderately successful, and one interesting disclosure had her and her equally astonished cousin exchanging startled glances.
‘I didn’t realise that Major Ross was Grandpapa’s godson,’ she freely admitted.
‘Oh, yes, dear,’ her aunt confirmed. ‘Your grandfather and Edwin Ross had been friends since boyhood, and Daniel was very fond of dear Papa. Papa frequently mentioned in the letters he wrote how much he missed his godson’s visits when Daniel went out to India.’
This appeared to capture Caroline’s attention in a big way, for she immediately set aside her sewing. ‘Major Ross has been to India? Oh, what exciting lives gentlemen lead!’
‘I do not know whether Daniel himself found the experience so very rewarding,’ her mother countered, ‘in view of what took place during his absence.’
Although Katherine doggedly refused to betray further interest, she was not unduly sorry when her cousin demanded to know what precisely had happened during Daniel’s travels abroad.
‘His father passed away just a year after Daniel had set sail for India. Although his uncle, Sir Joshua Ross, did write promptly, informing him of the tragic news, it quite naturally took some time before the letter reached him. And if that was not bad enough, when the poor boy did eventually return, it was to discover that his childhood sweetheart, Julia Melrose, had married Sir Joshua’s son Simon just a few months before.’
‘Oh, poor Major Ross!’ Caroline exclaimed, and Katherine, much to her surprise, found herself experiencing a twinge of sympathy too, and could not resist asking whether there had ever been anything official between them.
Lavinia Wentworth shook her head. ‘I do not believe Julia’s parents were averse to a match. Daniel, after all, was the son of a wealthy landowner, and therefore quite eligible. I believe the Melroses considered that it wouldn’t hurt to wait a year or two before giving their consent to a marriage. Daniel himself had only just turned twenty when he set sail for India. I suppose he considered it would occupy his time until he could officially ask for Julia’s hand.’
Caroline cast a puzzled glance across at her mother. ‘But if Julia Melrose was truly in love with Daniel, why on earth did she agree to marry Simon Ross?’
‘That I couldn’t say, my dear. I do know that Julia, Simon and Daniel had known one another all their lives and had frequently played together as children, but from what I have gleaned over the years from the many friends I still have living in the area, Julia always showed a preference for Daniel’s company. Most people, including your grandfather, expected them to tie the knot one day.’ She shrugged. ‘One can only imagine pressure was brought to bear on Miss Melrose to marry Simon. After all, he was the one who had been destined to hold the title, not Daniel.’
Mrs Wentworth sighed and shook her head. ‘Whether the marriage was happy or not, I couldn’t say, but it certainly proved fruitful. Julia gave birth to a son some five or six years ago, if I remember correctly. One cannot help but feel saddened that the union was brought to an abrupt end. Simon Ross, sadly, was killed whilst hunting in the Shires.’
‘Which leaves the field now open for the Major, as it were,’ Katherine remarked, with just a touch of cynicism that made her aunt smile.
‘It is certainly a possibility that their love will rekindle,’ her aunt acknowledged. ‘He has, so I understand, never betrayed the least interest in marrying anyone else, even though his name has been linked with several—er—females over the years.’
Out of the corner of her eye Katherine saw her cousin glance in her direction, as though expecting her, now that the opportunity had arisen, to pass some remark, and she swiftly decided not to disappoint her. ‘I clearly remember that, when I resided in Dorsetshire for those few short months, Captain Ross, as he was then, betrayed an interest in a close neighbour of Grandpapa’s—Helen Rushton.’
‘Helen Rushton?’ her aunt echoed, frowning slightly. Then her brow cleared. ‘Ah, yes, I remember—Hermi-one Rushton’s girl!’ The frown returned. ‘Are you positive he was interested in her, Katherine? She must have been a mere child at the time.’
‘She was seventeen.’
Mrs Wentworth’s expressive brows rose this time. ‘Yes, I suppose she must have been. So very sad, her dying so young. I remember Mrs Rushton very well—a sweet woman, but something of a dreamer and not very bright. I recall your grandfather mentioning once that Helen had become very like her mother.’
Until that moment Katherine had never considered that Helen had been very immature for her years. Looking back now, however, she was silently forced to own that her friend had been something of a dreamer and might well have imagined that Daniel Ross had been betraying an interest in her.
Swiftly thrusting this traitorous thought aside, she said, ‘I also recall, Aunt, that he was displaying marked attention towards a young widow in the locale.’
‘Very likely, my dear. He could only have been twenty-three or-four at the time. I doubt his intentions were serious. Gentlemen rarely are at that age. And you must remember he had suffered a grievous blow over Julia Melrose. When I spoke to him at the party I gained the distinct impression that he is more than ready to settle down now, however. He is quite wealthy, so should have no difficulty in finding himself a wife.’
Caroline’s soft brown eyes glowed with a distinctly hopeful look. ‘Although it is unlikely that Major Ross will ever inherit the title, it is not impossible that he and his childhood sweetheart might one day find happiness together.’
Whether or not it was because she had never fallen in love herself, or that she simply didn’t possess her cousin’s romantic streak, Katherine was not sure, but her interest had already swiftly begun to wane. The ex-Major’s present romantic inclinations were of absolutely no interest to her. Consequently she experienced no compunction whatsoever in changing the subject by voicing something which was of far more concern to her, if a trifle mundane.
‘I sincerely hope the weather improves by tomorrow. I do not relish the prospect of returning all the way to Bath in the pouring rain.’
‘I wish you were not going back so soon, Katherine. Cannot Mama and I persuade you to remain a little longer?’
Katherine, smiling fondly at her cousin, shook her head. ‘I should dearly love to stay another week or two, Caro, but my conscience will not permit it. I have already left poor Clarissa Mountjoy to her own devices for two weeks.’
‘I think it was highly unfair of Aunt Augusta to foist that distinctly foolish female on to you, Katherine,’ Lavinia Wentworth announced, with a rare show of annoyance. ‘She is engaged as a companion and resides in your home for the sole purpose of ensuring that you, an unmarried female, are suitably chaperoned at all times. Yet I swear it is you who takes care of her. It is a fine duenna indeed who cannot bring herself to travel more than a mile or two because she fears becoming queasy!’
A further fond smile touched Katherine’s lips as she looked across at her aunt. ‘Believe me, Aunt Lavinia, I am not sorry that Mountjoy is afflicted with travel sickness whenever she steps inside a carriage.’ She couldn’t prevent a sigh escaping. ‘I am forced to admit too that I do find her company excessively tedious, for she is undeniably an extremely foolish woman, but she does try so very hard to please. And I would never go back on the promise I made to Aunt Augusta and turn Mountjoy off. The poor woman put up with Great-aunt Augusta’s megrims and ill humours for twenty years. I believe she has earned a little peace and contentment in a house where not too much is expected of her, and she can more or less come and go as she pleases.’
A further sigh escaped Katherine as she finally abandoned her book and set it to one side. ‘I must admit, though, as chaperons go, she could never be described as diligent. I cannot say that I would feel in the least sorry if she did decide to leave, and I could employ someone of my own choosing.’
‘I doubt there is much chance of that,’ her aunt warned. ‘I fear, my dear, that you have made the woman’s life far too agreeable since Aunt Augusta’s death for her to wish to take up another post.’
‘You are possibly quite right,’ Katherine agreed. ‘But there is just a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Mountjoy received a letter from her widowed sister a month ago, inviting her to make her home with her. Needless to say I would be delighted if she does decide to leave, but I am resolved that it must be her decision.’
‘You would have no need of a chaperon if you chose to make your home here with us,’ her aunt reminded her.
Katherine had wondered how long it would be before the subject was once again raised. Her aunt had asked her on several occasions to make her home in Hampshire, and Katherine had always neatly avoided giving a firm answer. It was not that she felt she would be unhappy living with her aunt and uncle, for she was fond of them both, and adored both her cousins. Nor was she afraid that the little independence she had acquired would be drastically curtailed, for her aunt was such an easygoing soul who would willingly allow her to do more or less as she pleased. No, stupid though it might be, she was afraid to take up permanent residence under this roof; afraid that, as had happened so often in the past, she would bring ill fortune to the household if she were ever to remove here.
‘That is certainly true, Aunt,’ she agreed, her warm smile concealing quite beautifully those deep-rooted fears that had continued to torment her in recent years. ‘But I would never dream of inflicting Mountjoy on you. And even if I should be lucky enough to persuade her to accept her sister’s kind offer, there is still Bridie to consider. There is not the remotest possibility that I shall ever be able to persuade that fiendish woman to take up another post. I know I shall be cursed with her company for life! She is the most self-opinionated, domineering creature imaginable! If once she takes up residence here, you’d swiftly find her ruling the roost in the servants’ hall, and your own staff leaving your employ.’
Mrs Wentworth frankly laughed. ‘Oh, I know Bridie can be a little outspoken on occasions, and is certainly not what one might describe as a conventional domestic, but I for one, as I’ve mentioned before, have always felt very relieved that she has been there to take care of you, Katherine.’
She looked up as the door opened to see her butler enter the room, carrying a small silver tray. ‘Yes, what is it, Meldrew?’
‘A letter from Osborne House for Miss O’Malley, ma’am,’ he answered, presenting Katherine with the tray. ‘The footman is still here, awaiting a reply, miss.’
Surprised, Katherine removed the missive, which did indeed bear her name in bold, elegantly constructed letters, and broke the seal. ‘Good heavens!’ she exclaimed, after running her eyes over the few lines. ‘I’ve been invited to take tea with Sir Giles and his sister this afternoon at three o’clock.’
She handed the note across to her aunt. ‘Have you anything planned for the afternoon, Aunt Lavinia?’
‘As a matter of fact, dear, Lady Charlesworth plans to call. But, in any event,’ she added, after scanning the brief missive, ‘it would seem the invitation is for you alone.’ She did not appear in the least offended, as her next words proved. ‘I’m rather relieved. I should not have wished to cause offence to either Sir Giles or his sister by refusing. In the circumstances, however, I feel I must remain here, as I have already assured Lady Charlesworth that her visit will be most welcome.’
Katherine was far from convinced that her aunt’s assertion was one hundred per cent true. If her cousin’s expression of comical dismay was any indication, poor Caroline certainly wasn’t looking forward with any real conviction to her future mother-in-law’s proposed visit. Caroline, of course, had little choice in the matter; Katherine, on the other hand, most definitely had. She considered she had more than fulfilled her role as dutiful niece on the night of the engagement party, and had no intention of enduring the formidable Dowager’s company for a further lengthy period.
‘Would you mind very much, Aunt Lavinia, if I accepted the invitation to take tea with the Osbornes? I rather liked Sir Giles—a highly intelligent man who possesses a rather dry sense of humour.’ She chose not to add that she had been less favourably impressed with his sister.
‘Of course I do not object, my dear,’ her aunt assured her before turning to Meldrew. ‘Inform Sir Giles’s footman that Miss O’Malley will be delighted to accept.’
‘My, my, Katherine! You must have made a favourable impression on our reserved neighbour,’ Caroline teased, the instant the butler had withdrawn. ‘Sir Giles is not renowned for socialising to any great extent. He generally keeps himself very much to himself when in the country.’
‘Oh, I do not think that is strictly true, Caroline,’ her mother countered. ‘Sir Giles has always been a most genial man. I do not deny that since his wife and his younger son died, he has tended to be less sociable, but that is only to be expected. Furthermore, his work for the government keeps him in London a good deal.’
Caroline frowned a little at this. ‘Do you know, Mama, I’ve never perfectly understood the nature of Sir Giles’s work. I do not think even Papa understands precisely what duties Sir Giles performs.’
‘Our esteemed neighbour has always been a little vague about it, certainly,’ her mother agreed. ‘I believe he mentioned once that it was something connected with the War Office. I do happen to know that he numbers among the Regent’s close friends. So perhaps one of his duties is to keep our future King abreast of events, though why he should feel the need to spend so much time in the capital now that monster is on Elba, and the war is thankfully at an end, I cannot imagine.’
She frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘In fact, I understood your father to say that Sir Giles accompanied Major Ross to the capital on the morning after the party.’ She shrugged. ‘Evidently he must have returned … At least for Katherine’s sake I sincerely hope he has, otherwise she will find herself having to endure his far less sensible sister’s company for an hour or two.’
It required a monumental effort, but Katherine managed to resist the temptation to declare that if it was a choice between spending time in the company of Lady Charlesworth and Sir Giles’s sister, she considered Miss Mary Osborne most definitely the lesser evil!
The Wentworth carriage having been kindly placed at her disposal, Katherine set off on the short journey to Osborne House in good time to reach her destination at the appointed hour. She was looking forward to visiting the home of the man whose company she had very much enjoyed on the evening of the party. She was pleased too that the rain had ceased and the afternoon had been blessed thus far with brief glimpses of an early February sun. She was not, however, precisely overjoyed at being denied the opportunity to make this perfectly respectable visit unaccompanied.
Bridie had taken it upon herself to follow her out to the carriage and had plumped herself down on the seat opposite, that mulish expression Katherine had glimpsed so often in the past taking possession of the homely features.
Katherine turned her head to stare out of the window, lest her own expression betray the mingled resentment and annoyance rippling through her. These were feelings she had experienced increasingly during these past twelve months. Augusta Fairchild might have been an irascible old lady, sharp tongued, and not disposed to consider the feelings of others, but she had not been bound by convention, and had allowed Katherine freedom to do more or less as she pleased. Since her aunt’s demise, however, Katherine had discovered that treasured independence, which one might reasonably have expected to increase now that she had become mistress of her own establishment, had been gradually curtailed by the two females whom she employed.
And it was utterly ridiculous! She inwardly fumed, resolved to do something soon about her far from idyllic domestic situation. These past two weeks in Hampshire had, if nothing else, shown her that one attained far more freedom from living in the country. Weather permitting, she had gone for a walk, sometimes accompanied by her cousin Caroline, and sometimes alone. It was true that on the occasion they had visited the local town they had taken the little housemaid with them. Yet Katherine had hardly known the servant was there. Walking a few paces behind, the maid had barely uttered a word, and had merely carried the few purchases both Katherine and Caroline had made back to the carriage.
How different from the life she had led in Bath! Not once since her great-aunt’s demise had she visited the fashionable shops without having to suffer Mountjoy’s incessant prattling, as she scurried alongside like a timid mouse. Always eager to please, poor Mountjoy more often than not had only succeeded in irritating her so much that Katherine had come perilously close on numerous occasions to releasing her pent-up frustrations by administering a sound box round the ears, and only the promise she had made to her aunt had checked the words of instant dismissal she so longed to utter.
Smothering a sigh, Katherine turned her attention to the woman in the seat opposite. Even if she did manage to resolve the problem of her less than ideal companion, there still remained the even greater dilemma of what to do about the woman who had taken such loving care of her throughout her life. Although she had never been afraid to speak her mind where Bridie was concerned, which had resulted in numerous battles of will over the years, and many harshly spoken words, not for the world would she deliberately hurt the person to whom she was so genuinely attached. Yet somehow she must find a way of convincing Bridie that her one-time charge was no longer in need of leading-strings, but a young, independent woman, quite capable of making her own decisions and, more importantly, of taking care of herself. And there was no better time to embark on this crusade for total independence than right now!
‘I cannot imagine why you felt the need to accompany me on this journey,’ she remarked in a level tone, determined to deny Bridie the opportunity of accusing her of being in a ‘naughty’ temper, which she so often did when Katherine had taken her to task over something.
The mulish expression returned to the homely face. ‘And who would have taken care of you if I hadn’t come along, may I ask?’
‘My aunt’s groom is more than capable of ensuring that I come to no harm.’
‘Pshaw! The great lummox didn’t even think to provide you with a few necessary comforts,’ Bridie retorted, lovingly tucking the fur-lined rug, which she had carried out to the carriage, more securely about her young mistress’s slender legs. ‘I promised your sainted mother on her deathbed that I would always look after her little girl. And I shan’t go back on my word. Bridie will always be here for you, Miss Kate.’
Oh, dear Lord! Katherine inwardly groaned. Although moved by this touching declaration, she was very well aware that the task ahead of her was going to be far from easy. Yet somehow there had to be a way of convincing Bridie that she was now a capable young woman, and no longer a child in need of constant care and attention.
Determined not to be defeated in her objective, Katherine adopted a different tack, as the coachman drew the well-sprung carriage to a halt before the front entrance of the impressive mansion. ‘As you have taken it upon yourself to play nursemaid, you had better accompany me inside. No doubt you will be invited to take tea with the more senior servants.’ She paused after alighting to cast a cautionary glance over her shoulder. ‘So kindly maintain a guard on that unruly tongue of yours for the duration of our visit.’
Bridie, both surprised and incensed at what she considered to be quite uncalled-for strictures, was denied the opportunity to retaliate by voicing her opinion of her young mistress’s frequently caustic utterances by the prompt appearance of the very correct manservant who admitted them to the house.
‘Sir Giles is expecting you, Miss O’Malley. If you would kindly step this way?’ The butler paused, before leading the way across the chequered hall, to cast a faintly superior glance in Bridie’s direction when she appeared about to follow her mistress. ‘I shall ensure that your maid receives refreshments below stairs.’
Hardening her heart against the hopeful expression in those loving, dark eyes, Katherine swept past the door the butler held open. Only then did she begin to wonder if she had not been a little foolish in not insisting that Bridie remain with her, when she noticed that the book-lined room’s sole occupant was Sir Giles.
Rising immediately from behind the desk, he came forward to take Katherine’s hand briefly in his own. ‘My dear Miss O’Malley. My sister and I were delighted that you were able to accept our invitation,’ he announced, before dismissing his servant with the faintest nod of his head. ‘Come, take a seat by the fire.’
A glimmer of amusement flickered in the baronet’s grey eyes as Katherine hesitated. ‘My dear child, I am old enough to be your father, if not your grandfather. Be assured that my sister will be joining us, once she has returned from her trip to town.’
Feeling rather annoyed with herself for so obviously betraying unease, while at the same time thinking it most strange that Miss Osborne should visit the local town when she had invited a guest to take tea, Katherine seated herself in one of the comfortable chairs by the hearth. It was strange too that the butler had shown her in here. Evidently he had been obeying his master’s instructions. But surely it was more usual to invite guests to take tea in the parlour?
After watching her host move across to a small table on which several decanters stood, Katherine glanced about the room. It was a wholly masculine sanctum, which put her in mind of her grandfather’s library in that charming house in Dorsetshire, the main difference being that this room had a second door, left slightly ajar, which possibly led to a small ante-room.
‘Can I tempt you to a glass of Madeira, my dear?’ Again there was a moment’s hesitation on her part which drew a brief smile to Sir Giles’s lips as he poured out a second glass. ‘You came to take tea and yet your host is attempting to ply you with strong liquor. What sinister motive can there be in that? I hear you asking yourself. You are wise to be cautious, child, for this world of ours holds many sinister pitfalls for the unwary. And I did have a specific reason for wishing to see you alone.’
More intrigued than unnerved by this surprising admission, Katherine accepted the glass held out to her, observing as she did so that those shrewd grey eyes, alert and acutely assessing, were regarding her no less keenly than they had on the evening of the engagement party almost two weeks ago.
‘You have striking colouring, Miss O’Malley,’ he remarked, surprising her still further, as he settled himself in the chair opposite, his gaze never wavering from her face. ‘Inherited from your Irish-born father, I should imagine.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she responded, wondering what he would remark upon next. She was not left to speculate for long.
‘I am reliably informed that you and your father were very close. It was a tragedy that he lost his life in the service of his country … But it was a tragedy that was destined to take place long before he had set sail from Ireland.’ Sir Giles saw the slender fingers tighten momentarily round the stem of the glass, and a look appear in the turquoise-coloured eyes which was no less penetrating than that in his own. ‘Ill fortune played no part in your father’s demise. The French had been informed that three vessels loaded with urgent supplies would be setting sail for Portugal on a certain date, and they were lying in wait.’
‘How—how did you discover this?’ Katherine demanded. The heartache she had suffered when she had first learned of her father’s death had never left her, but now a completely different emotion, far stronger than the lingering pain, had swiftly gained supremacy. A despicable traitor had been responsible for the death of her father!
‘I make it my business to know, child,’ Sir Giles responded, smiling grimly. ‘One does not need to don a uniform in order to serve one’s country. And not all one’s enemies are as visible as those on the field of battle.’ The look in his steely-grey eyes grew noticeably harder. ‘Napoleon is in exile on Elba. But my war is far from over, and shall not be so until I have unmasked the heartless devil who, during these past years, has been passing information on to the French.’
Taking a moment to refresh himself, Giles continued to regard her steadily over the rim of his glass. ‘I shall not insult your intelligence by attempting to suggest that the person I am determined to unmask is the very traitor responsible for tampering with the document sent to the Admiralty requesting an escort for the convoy in which your father was destined to sail. There have been a number of agents working for France during these past years. I have a particular interest in uncovering the identity of just one of them, mainly because I was foolish enough once to underestimate him, and in so doing was responsible, in part, for the death of a young Frenchwoman whose knowledge would have proved invaluable in unmasking a cell of agents working in this country.’
Katherine’s gaze remained as steady as her host’s. She now knew precisely why Sir Giles, the secret spy-catcher, had invited her here. ‘You believe that I might prove useful in helping you achieve your objective?’
‘Yes, child, I do. From the moment I first set eyes upon you I was aware of the striking resemblance you bear to the young woman who was murdered whilst under my so-called protection,’ he admitted, his voice surprisingly betraying a hint of regret. ‘I failed her, and that weighs heavily on my conscience. I have no intention of repeating my error. I shall do everything within my power to minimise the risk, but should you agree to assist me it is as well for you to know at the outset that your life would be in danger.’
Leaning back in his chair, Sir Giles regarded her in silence for a moment. ‘Now, before I divulge more, I need to know, Miss O’Malley, whether you are willing to undertake a very great service for your country, which, if successful, might go some way to avenging your father’s demise?’
Katherine didn’t need to take even a moment to decide, but was somewhat startled, after voicing her desire to help in any way she could, when the door leading to the small ante-room was thrown wide and a sparse man in his early forties, accompanied by a woman of similar age, walked calmly into the room.
‘Do not be alarmed, my child,’ Sir Giles advised gently. ‘I wish you to meet Mr Arthur Ashcroft, and his sister Miss Margaret Ashcroft, two of my most trusted associates. They will play a small but vital part in the plan I am about to outline to you. There is one further key player with whom I must make contact, but that can wait for the time being. What we must do now is put our heads together and come up with some scheme whereby you may leave Bath again, and quite alone, in the very near future without arousing the least suspicion.’
A plump, middle-aged figure suddenly appeared before Katherine’s mind’s eye. ‘That, Sir Giles, might prove more difficult than you imagine!’
Chapter Four
Major Daniel Ross laid his head against the back of the chair, and stretched out his long legs in order to rest his feet upon the fender. His time here in Curzon Street, enjoying the hospitality of his good friend Harry Danvers, must soon come to an end. These past few weeks had proved to be highly pleasurable, and some recompense, he supposed, for the many privations he had perforce to endure in recent years.
Undeniably London had much to offer any bachelor of comfortable means. He would have been the first to admit that he had been content to while away the hours in the company of many of those who, like himself, had known the hardship of life out in the Peninsula. There was no denying too that the highly satisfying association with that delicate vessel, short on brains but infinitely skilful in other ways, had assuaged his physical needs and provided a most pleasurable way of passing several evenings and nights. None the less, a totally idle existence was not for him. It was time he returned to his Dorsetshire acres to put into effect those improvements he planned for his house and lands.
After sampling the contents of his glass, he began to contemplate a future that would be in stark contrast with his past. Yet he had no regrets about the decision he had taken to sell his commission and leave the army. He believed he was more than ready now to take charge of his inheritance. The love of the land had taken time to come to him, but it was there now. Which was perhaps just as well, he mused, for there was precious little else in his life at the moment upon which he might shower attention and affection, least of all a woman.
