Anna Jacobs Read Free Page B

There can be nothing wrong in that.”
    “Nothing wrong? How dare you let her go anywhere without consulting me, Isabel, when I am the head of the family and responsible for you both? And this man she went with wasn’t a relative, I’m sure.”
    “Only a messenger from Ralph Jannvier,” she said placatingly.
    “Who knows what will have happened to your daughter by now? By heavens, I guard mine more carefully. Have you no sense? You told me the old uncle refused to pay your husband’s debts, so you owe him nothing. Nothing at all!”
    “He’s dying. Wants to see her. There was no time to be lost, Walter.”
    “It’ll be a trick of some sort. You’ll see.” His eyes narrowed as the words sank in. “Is this to do with his will? Is it?”
    Isabel lost herself in a morass of phrases, but by the end of it her brother had the information he required, or near enough. “The less you have to do with the Jannvier family from now on, Isabel, the better—unless there is some profit to be had. You were a fool ever to marry into it.”
    He growled in annoyance as that vacant look settled in his sister’s eyes again. He was beginning to suspect that she was losing her wits. And if so, he’d have no hesitation in locking her away, because a mad sister could do him no credit. Not that she’d ever been very sensible, running off to marry a feckless fellow like Paul Jannvier, a man with no income but what his wits and the cards brought in.
    As he left the house he threw at her, “And don’t come to me for help if your daughter gets herself in trouble and comes back with a swelling belly. I’ll condone no immorality.”
    Isabel roused herself from her abstraction to say, “Deborah wouldn’t do anything immoral.” She focused on a particularly pretty vase of flowers, which she had just finished arranging, and prepared to endure more homilies and scolding.
    But for once Walter cut the diatribe short and left her to her own devices. He wanted to ask the people at the inn about the stranger and where the next change of horses would be. It should be easy enough to trace him. It might even be worth sending Frank after the two of them. His manservant had helped him in many ways over the years, ways other people knew nothing about. He had complete trust in the fellow. If there were any profit in this situation, Frank would find it for his master—and be rewarded for his troubles, as usual.
    Well, why should Walter not profit from any inheritance, if that was why Ralph Jannvier had sent for Deborah? His sister and niece owed him something, for hadn’t he paid all their debts—well, the tradesmen’s debts, anyway? Gambling debts were no concern of his.
    And he’d not only housed them since then, but made them an allowance. Yes, they definitely owed him repayment for all that. He would start drawing up the accounts the following day. He smiled at the thought.
    Yes, Frank should definitely go after them and investigate the situation.
    * * * *
    As she cantered along on the sure-footed mare, Deborah threw back her head and breathed deeply of the warm evening air. She couldn’t help wondering what her great-uncle wanted her to do and wishing he’d offered her a hint. She had to be content with the fact that her companion had assured her it was nothing unlawful. Matthew Pascoe had a way of saying things that made you believe him.
    She stole another glance sideways at him. He rode well, looking very much at home in the saddle. He was wearing a dark riding coat over a cloth waistcoat, and but there was no pretence to fashion in the garments, no wide cuffs or rich materials. Under the simple three-cornered hat he wore his own hair, rather than a wig, dark hair tied back with a simple leather thong.
    She had never met anyone quite like him, but she trusted him instinctively, could not have said why, just did.
    One thing was certain in her mind: whatever was asked of her, she would do it. And if she never set eyes on that dreadful