Drury Lane Darling Read Free Page B

on the back of his neck lift. How Corinne had changed! Her hair had magically turned to a soft blondish red. Her maidenly body had filled out majestically. Her voice, her manner—all were different, but the eyes were the same. She still had those sharp, knowing eyes.
    “Can’t say that I do,” he said gruffly.
    She smiled demurely. “Perhaps my visit will jog your memory. It is one of the reasons I’m here,” she threatened sweetly. “Nigel told me you were in Brighton at that time. I’m eager to meet old friends and refresh my own memory. You’d be surprised what talking over the old days can bring up. Lord Alban, for instance, has been most helpful.”
    Alban! Yes, he’d been after Corinne as well! Ho, they were all after her. But she’d favored himself. Not as rich as the others, but more handsome. Dot had been home at Belmont that spring. Nigel was only a few months old. How it all came washing back. Corinne, the little cottage at Freshfield Place, near the park. Then the summons from Dot. “Come home at once if you ever want to see your son again.” Who had told her? Alban’s work, very likely.
    Had Alban replaced him? He had recently been “most helpful.” There was a very sly glint in Corinne’s eye when she said that. Was it possible she was here to hold him to ransom? Pay up, or I reveal you in my book for the scoundrel you are? “Alban, you say? I haven’t seen him in an age.”
    “He is still very dashing—like you, Sir Aubrey. He comes to all my plays. We’ll talk later, n on ? I’m sure you will remember some helpful details for my memoirs. All my old friends are very generous in assisting me.”
    The marquise smiled her charming, warm smile, and turned her attention to Lady Raleigh. No amount of praising the ugly old house turned the termagant up sweet. “I saw a lovely Palladian bridge over a stream as we drove through the park,” she attempted. “All stone, with arches and Corinthian columns. Did you have it built, Lady Raleigh, or is it old?”
    “My husband’s father had it built a quarter of a century ago.”
    “It’s charming. Nigel tells me you have some paintings hung on tapestry in the gallery, in the old style.”
    “You wouldn’t want to see that old rubbish,” Nigel told her. “I say, Fleur, can I get you a glass of wine?”
    “Tea will be arriving shortly,” Lady Raleigh announced. She noticed Nigel hadn’t offered Pamela wine. In fact, he had scarcely glanced at her. He was besotted with this wretched actress.
    “Tea, so English.” The marquise smiled politely, as her eyes slid hopefully to the wine table.
    “You might want to attend the assembly in Hatfield this evening,” Nigel continued, tempting the jaded lady with his simple country treats. “Are you planning to attend, Mama?”
    “We will be taking you and Pamela,” his mother replied.
    “By Jove, you’ll like that, Fleur. What a stir you’ll cause amongst all the local bucks.”
    Lord Breslau had thawed out sufficiently to leave the grate. “Were you just offering sherry, Nigel? I’ll have one, if you please.”
    “Tea is on the way,” Lady Raleigh repeated. “You may have wine if you prefer, Breslau. How is your mama?”
    “I must confess I have no idea. She doesn’t write—letters, I mean. My housekeeper would have notified me if she were ill or dead, however, so I expect she is fine.”
    Lady Raleigh gave him a pained look. “You haven’t written in weeks, Nigel,” was her next attempt at conversation.
    “How can you say so, Mama? Didn’t I write just last week and tell you Fleur was coming for a visit?”
    “And the very next day to add that I, too, was coming,” Breslau pointed out. “Why, you’ve been deluged with letters, madam. Mama would box my ears if I bombarded her with so many epistles.”
    Pamela stared at Lord Breslau as though he were an exotic animal in a zoo. She had never heard such strange conversation in her life, the voice and manner so polite, and the