Household Read Free Page A

ministry.”
    “’Twasn’t long ago, though. Not more than three years,” growled Sir Gerald.
    “Four, sir.”
    “Four! You’ll never tell me that!” the baronet exclaimed accusingly.
    “I was eighteen, sir, and am turned twenty-two.”
    “Twenty-two... twenty- two ,” his host muttered. “My gal’s twenty. Time does fly, don’t it?”
    Richard nodded, reflecting that for Sir Gerald, time must fly backwards since Christina was nearing her twenty-fourth birthday.
    “Been a bit cast down my girl has... sewing the trousseau, you see.”
    “A sad loss.” Richard decided that he really wasn’t lying in making this admission. Certainly Fulke’s death must have been a sad loss to his fiancée.
    “Indeed, yes. Cut off in his prime, damned rascal...”
    Sir Gerald fastened his eyes on Richard. “I’m talking about old Hodges that did for him. Hanged, sir, I’ll see him hanged as high as the Jack o’ Diamonds. Though that’ll be your prerogative, I’m thinking.”
    “If he can be brought to justice, Sir Gerald.”
    “Has been,” the baronet rasped. “Down with the rats in Oldfield’s Keep, didn’t you hear?”
    Richard hadn’t heard, and now he made a mental note to secure the man’s release before setting off for London. He was about to say something soothing and noncommittal to Sir Gerald when Christina made her entrance, moving very slowly, her mother fluttering behind her like a nervous moth.
    Christina was not wearing black. Her gown was a pale blue brocade, almost the color of her eyes. Her golden curls were elaborately dressed, or at least that was his first impression. A second hinted at a hasty gathering and pinning with some three or four locks straying to one shoulder when only two should have been there. She was wearing quite a bit of rouge over the leaden-white paint, much favored by ladies determined to ape the London styles.
    Richard, who had been inwardly amused at his reception, felt a quick pity for the girl he once had believed he loved. In those years, Christina had been beautiful and slim. Despite her makeup and despite the fact that the gown, its wide skirts fanning out to the imminent danger of any small table or chair in her immediate path, was designed to emphasize a slender waist, Christina was neither beautiful nor slender. Her face was puffy, and it would have been better had she worn mourning, for the black would have minimized the thickness of her middle. His suspicions were not without foundation. He wondered how soon she would be dropping the brat concealed by her skirts and mentally damned his brother.
    Remembering his manners, he bowed low. “Christina,” he murmured, kissing the back of her plump and trembling hand. “How well you look.” Unfortunately, his eyebrow had quirked up and he hoped that Christina, who had once known him so well, would have forgotten that telltale mannerism.
    Fortunately, Christina, sinking into a deep curtsy, did not appear to have noticed, but it soon became obvious, through a series of grimaces, that she needed help in rising. Her mother hastily provided it, murmuring, “Poor Christina is quite weak with grief.”
    “You have my deepest sympathies, Christina,” Richard said.
    She raised her eyes and Richard, seeing that they were blazing, realized that the eyebrow had not gone unnoticed. “I thank you, Richard. You were... most kind to come and see me.”
    “We have thought of you so much. I know Christina has missed you sorely,” Lady Dysart gushed. “You were all so close when you were young... and Christina hard put to choose between you, were you not, my love? And poor dear Fulke... such a tragedy.”
    “Indeed,” Richard agreed solemnly.
    “Have you come home to stay?” Christina asked.
    Had he heard the barest hint of hope in her tone? He was not sure. To his surprise, it gave him considerably less pleasure than he had anticipated to reply, “No, as it happens, I’ll be leaving for London on the