Helen Dickson Read Free Page A

could see she was one of those aristocrats who had her feelings buried under deep layers of social propriety, the sort who might stare icily at someone, or turn away, affecting indifference.
    ‘Thank you for receiving me so promptly, Countess,’ he said in flawless French. ‘May I offer my deepest condolences on your loss.’
    ‘Sir Charles Osbourne! Welcome to Chateau Feroc.’ The Countess spoke English to the Englishman, her voice clear and incisive.
    ‘Please speak to me in French, Countess,’ he requested with calm gravity. ‘These are difficult times and servants hear and speculate too much.’
    ‘As you wish,’ she replied coolly.
    ‘I apologise for my inopportune arrival. Of course I had no idea of the Count’s demise until I arrived.’
    ‘How could you? It was very sudden.’ The Countess had never been particularly fond of her husband, and had regarded him with tolerance rather than affection. ‘You are here on behalf of Colonel Winston?’ she remarked, resuming her seat and indicating with a wave of her hand that was almost royal that he should occupy the chair across from her.
    ‘That is so, Countess—to escort your niece, Miss Monkton, to England.’
    ‘I know. I was expecting you.’
    ‘Colonel Winston said he would write to you apprising you of my arrival and the nature of my mission. You have received his letter?’
    ‘Yes, some weeks ago. We expected you earlier than this.’
    ‘I did not come direct. The recent troubles make travelling difficult. I also had some matters of my own to take care of first.’
    ‘You have been in Paris?’
    ‘I have come from there.’
    ‘And are things as bad as they say?’
    He nodded grimly. ‘The rioting grows worse by the day. Nobles are fleeing the city—and France, if they can manage it without being apprehended.’
    ‘Then we can be thankful that we do not live in Paris, Sir Charles. So, Colonel Winston is no longer in India,’ she said, folding her hands in her lap, her thin-lipped mouth relaxing slightly.
    ‘No. He has been in England six months.’
    ‘And eager to reacquaint himself with Maria, he informed me. He feels that to delay the marriage would be unnecessary and harsh. You must know him well. Hemust think highly of you to entrust you with the responsibility of escorting his betrothed to England.’
    ‘We are not friends, Countess,’ Charles was quick to inform her—Henry Winston was an unsavoury character and not a man he would wish to count as one of his close associates. ‘We are—acquainted. No more than that.’
    ‘I see.’ The Countess studied him thoughtfully. ‘Do you disapprove of Colonel Winston?’
    ‘It’s not a matter of disapproval, Countess. Our meetings have been infrequent.’
    ‘And yet he asked you to escort Maria to England.’
    ‘For reasons of his own he was unable to come himself. I was coming to see my own family—my mother is French, from the south. Everyone in Britain is alarmed by the news that crosses the channel. I was concerned for my family.’
    ‘Your mother still lives in France?’
    ‘No. She married an Englishman—my father—and chose to remain in England when he died. Colonel Winston was worried that Miss Monkton might become caught up in the troubles and wanted her to get out. When he heard I was leaving for France, he approached me to ask if I would see her safely to England.’
    ‘And you agreed, without having met her.’
    ‘My father and Sir Edward Monkton were close friends for many years. They were in India together. I remember him as being a very fine and noble man. I also owe him a great, personal debt.’
    ‘Tell me.’
    ‘When I was a boy my mother and I were washed away while crossing a swollen river. Sir Edward came to our rescue, putting his own life at risk. Without hisbravery I would not be here now. It is for that reason that I agreed to escort Miss Monkton to England. While in India I came into contact with Colonel Winston on numerous occasions. He made no