Aunt Sophie's Diamonds Read Free Page B

pretty too,” Luane pointed out. Claudia looked to the little face now turned towards her for examination and was much inclined to agree.
    "What I must do is hire some impoverished lady to chaperone me till I make a match."
    "What sort of man would you like to marry?” Claudia asked, happy to see the mundane manner of her cousin.
    "A titled gentleman,” was the unhesitating answer. “I mean to be a great lady."
    "Ah, like Rosalie, I collect."
    "Yes, and then he'll see..."
    "That will show him,” Claudia agreed quietly. “Who is he?"
    "My cousin—it is no matter."
    "The captain?"
    "That toy soldier!” she scoffed. “I mean Cousin Gabriel. He will see I'm not an ill-behaved brat."
    "Did he call you so?"
    "He certainly did, and only because I asked Hillary if he bought me anything. He usually brings me bonbons,” she explained.
    "Did he remember the bonbons?"
    "Yes, would you like one?” She passed a box of candied gingers. “Have two if you like. These are not my favorite."
    Claudia contented herself with only one of the treats and chewed it while waiting expectantly for more news from this interesting creature.
    "How old are you?” Luane asked suddenly.
    "I am rather old, but you must not tell anyone, for mama is still young,” Claudia answered with a slight tremor in her voice.
    "I thought you weren't as young as you let on,” Luane said unemotionally. “Would you care to be my chaperone, cousin?"
    "It would be excessively diverting,” Claudia replied readily, “but I have not yet put on my caps and could not do much to introduce you to great noblemen in any case."
    "Sir Hillary will do that. He is a nonpareil. I think you would make a very good chaperone. You are old without being too old."
    "I am greatly flattered,” Claudia said, drawing her handkerchief to her unsteady lips, “but I doubt my grandpa could spare me."
    "He will have to spare you when you marry."
    "True, but chaperones don't usually marry, especially old ones."
    "You aren't over the hill—quite. We'll find a nobleman for you, too, cousin. A widower perhaps, with children, then you won't have to bother having any of your own. I think it must be very uncomfortable, don't you?"
    "I have always thought nature mismanaged it very badly. We ought to just lay an egg like the birds."
    "Or lay a whole bunch of them at once and have it over with."
    "Even better.” A small gurgle of laughter escaped Claudia, and she marveled at her lack of decorum when she had come here to console the bereaved. “I expect you are sad at losing your aunt,” she essayed once more.
    "She wasn't so bad, but she didn't like me. I'll miss her, but she's been talking of dying ever since I came here, and I am used to the idea. Shall we go downstairs? I'm starved,” she added prosaically. They left the room, arm in arm and went gaily chatting down into the house of mourning.
    Dinner was only an indifferent repast at Swallowcourt, as everyone but Claudia had good reason to know. She wished she had accepted another candied ginger. The captain remained behind after dinner only to taste the port before joining the ladies. One sip informed him he would as lief have tea.
    The tea tray was just brought in when the butler came to the door. “Sir Hillary Thoreau and Mr. Gabriel Tewksbury,” he announced, and all eyes turned to the door.

Chapter Three
    Two elegant gentlemen strolled in, about as different as it was possible for two men to be. Gabriel was young, fair, slight, and appareled in the raiment of a young dandy. His hair was brushed forward in the Brutus do, his shirt points high, and his waistcoat of a brightness bordering on the garish.
    His companion was taller, older, broader across the shoulders, his hair and eyes dark. His dress was restrained, and his expression, as he observed the mourners, was sardonic.
    It was the elder who advanced first into the room. “The vultures gather, I see,” he said in a well-modulated voice, with a cool smile directed at random on