The Black Moth

The Black Moth Read Free

Book: The Black Moth Read Free
Author: Georgette Heyer
Ads: Link
Dick?"
    "No."
    "Then 'tis Lady Lavinia—"
    "No."
    "But—"
    My lord smiled sadly.
    "Ah, Warburton! And you averred you knew us through and through! For whose sake should it be but his own?"
    "I feared it!" The lawyer made a hopeless gesture with his hands. "You will not come back?"
    "No, Warburton, I will not; Dick may manage my estates. I remain on the road."
    Warburton made one last effort.
    "My lord!" he cried despairingly, "Will you not at least think of the disgrace to the name an you be caught?"
    The shadows vanished from my lord's eyes.
    "Mr. Warburton, I protest you are of a morbid turn of mind! Do you know, I had not thought of so unpleasant a contingency? I swear I was not born to be hanged!"
    The lawyer would have said more, had not the entrance of a servant, carrying a loaded tray, put an end to all private conversation. The man placed dishes upon the table, lighted candles, and arranged two chairs.
    "Dinner is served, sir," he said.
    My lord nodded, and made a slight gesture toward the windows. Instantly the man went over to them and drew the heavy curtains across.
    My lord turned to Mr. Warburton.
    "What say you, sir? Shall it be burgundy or claret, or do you prefer sack?"
    Warburton decided in favour of claret.
    "Claret, Jim," ordered Carstares, and rose to his feet.
    "I trust the drive has whetted your appetite, Warburton, for honest Chadber will be monstrous hurt an you do not justice to his capons."
    "I shall endeavour to spare his feelings," replied the lawyer with a twinkle, and seated himself at the table.
    Whatever might be Mr. Chadber's failings, he possessed an excellent cook. Mr. Warburton dined very well, beginning on a fat duck, and continuing through the many courses that constituted the meal.
    When the table was cleared, the servant gone, and the port before them, he endeavoured to guide the conversation back into the previous channels. But he reckoned without my lord, and presently found himself discussing the Pretender's late rebellion. He sat up suddenly.
    "There were rumours that you were with the Prince, sir."
    Carstares set down his glass in genuine amazement.
    "I?"
    "Indeed, yes. I do not know whence the rumour came, but it reached Wyncham. My lord said nought, but I think Mr. Richard hardly credited it."
    "I should hope not! Why should they think me turned rebel, pray?"
    Mr. Warburton frowned.
    "Rebel, sir?"
    "Rebel, Mr. Warburton. I have served under his Majesty."
    "The Carstares were ever Tories, Master Jack, true to their rightful king."
    "My dear Warburton, I owe nought to the Stuart princes. I was born in King George the First's reign, and I protest I am a good Whig."
    Warburton shook his head disapprovingly.
    "There has never been a Whig in the Wyncham family, sir."
    "And you hope there never will be again, eh? What of Dick? Is he faithful to the Pretender?"
    "I think Mr. Richard does not interest himself in politics, sir."
    Carstares raised his eyebrows, and there fell a silence.
    After a minute or two Mr. Warburton cleared his throat.
    "I–I suppose, sir–you have no idea of–er–discontinuing your–er–profession?"
    My lord gave an irrepressible little laugh.
    "Faith, Mr. Warburton, I've only just begun!"
    "Only— But a year ago, Mr. Richard—"
    "I held him up? Ay, but to tell the truth, sir, I've not done much since then!"
    "Then, sir, you are not–er–notorious?"
    "Good gad, no! Notorious, forsooth! Confess, Warburton, you thought me some heroic figure? 'Gentleman Harry,' perhaps?"
    Warburton blushed.
    "Well, sir— I–er–wondered."
    "I shall have to disappoint you, I perceive. I doubt Bow Street has never heard of me–and–to tell the truth–'tis not an occupation which appeals vastly to my senses."
    "Then why, my lord, do you continue?"
    "I must have some excuse for roaming the country," pleaded Jack. "I could not be idle."
    "You are not–compelled to–er–rob, my lord?"
    Carstares wrinkled his brow inquiringly.
    "Compelled? Ah–I take your meaning. No,

Similar Books

Poems 1962-2012

Louise Glück

Unquiet Slumber

Paulette Miller

Exit Lady Masham

Louis Auchincloss

Trade Me

Courtney Milan

The Day Before

Liana Brooks