Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns Read Free

Blake at once drew back his hand. Sir
Gavin smiled. His smile became fixed when Mrs. Cordova demanded
bluntly, "And why this sudden interest in Lanterns, sir?"
    "Emma!" murmured Sir Lionel, embarrassed.
    "It is, after all, my step-son's estate, dear ma'am," Sir
Gavin pointed out.
    "It is now," agreed Mrs. Cordova. "Not that his poor papa ever
dreamt the title would come down to his son. Of course he did not,
since he died when he was twelve years old. I don't mean that Mr.
Paisley died when he was twelve years old, else he'd never have had a
son, would he? I mean he died when the
boy
was
twelve."
    Sir Gavin corrected patiently, "Eleven, actually, ma'am.
Perhaps you are confusing the fact that he was twelve when I
married his poor mama."
    "I am never confused," responded Mrs. Cordova with
questionable accuracy. "If I were, I might not have noticed that you
were not used to visit Lanterns as often as you've done these past few
months. What's to do, sir? Is Lord Temple and Cloud come to look over
his home at last?"
    A grim expression darkened Blake Coville's handsome features.
Fanny gave her sister a long-suffering glance, and Sir Lionel moaned
faintly.
    If Sir Gavin was annoyed, however, he maintained his aplomb,
murmuring with a smile, "Now whoever told you that, ma'am?"
    Mrs. Cordova seized one of many trailing wisps of hair and
thrust it under her cap. She then took up her teacup and waved it
towards an extremely ample 'lady' who occupied a fireside chair. "Mrs.
Hughes-Dering," she said. "And if there is anything worth knowing, from
the shires to Brighton to Bath, Monica knows it, I promise you."
    "Well, that is true," agreed Sir Lionel, who numbered the real
and extremely formidable dowager among his friends.
    Blake, still looking grim, said, "Then perhaps the lady can
tell us of the whereabouts of my step-mother, which is more than—"
    Sir Gavin's voice cut across the bitter words like the crack
of a whip. "You forget yourself, sir!"
    There was an instant of stunned silence.
    Blake flushed scarlet, and mumbled an apology.
    Marietta and Fanny looked at each other in amazement. Their
hire of the dower house had been arranged with Sir Gavin's steward a
year previously. They had not met either of the Covilles for several
months after they'd moved in, but a recent visit had been followed with
rather surprising frequency by others. They had never known Sir Gavin
to be anything but poised and gracious. In fact Fanny had said he was
"Sedate, serene, and bloodless, and quite without any human emotions."
    He was not sedate now, and to see that distinguished
countenance distorted with passion was shocking.
    Engrossed in his troubles, Sir Gavin put a hand across his
brow and bowed his head.
    Mrs. Cordova rose, pushed back her untidy hair and spread her
skirts. In a thin but not tuneless voice she began to sing, and as she
sang she danced slowly around the centre of the room.
    "Oh, no!" moaned Fanny,
sotto voce.
"Aunty Dova's off!"
    Blake Colville's jaw dropped and he stared, clearly
dumbfounded.
    " ' Tis better,' " trilled Mrs. Cordova, " 'to have loved and
lost… than never… to have loved at all…' "
    Sir Gavin's head jerked up, and he stared at her, his eyes
intent.
    Sinking to a deep curtsy before him, she murmured, "Is that
not so, sir?"
    He said tensely, "Then—you know, ma'am?"
    Blake snapped, "How could she know? Nobody knows!"
    "Ah," said Mrs. Cordova, drifting back to her chair. "But
nobody knows what I know. I know… things…" She pounced at another of
her inanimate friends and demanded saucily, "Is that not right, Sir
Frederick?"
    Blake pulled his chair closer to Marietta and murmured, "Sir
Frederick? Is that supposed to be Freddy Foster? Be dashed if it don't
bear a strong resemblance to the silly clod— Er, what I mean is, are
they friends?"
    "They were, before we left Town. Mr. Coville, pray do not
judge—I mean—Aunt Cordova was my mother's sister, and she is the
dearest creature, but—it is just that—well,