Madrilene's Granddaughter. Laura Cassidy

felt the force of her love was returned in however small a way.”

      “That is what my mother felt,” Hal said thoughtfully. “And the resentment she felt for your grandmother is now transferred to you.” He sipped his wine, adding, “I am sorry.”

      Rachel smiled wryly. He was sorry. Well, who was not—for her? Poor Rachel Monterey, so well-born, but un-dowered. Poor Rachel, whose father had been a gallant officer of the throne of England, whose mother—so lovely—had chosen badly. Poor Rachel, born into Spain in privileged circumstances, but reduced by her grandmother’s gambling to penury. Poor Rachel, whose only contact, a simple Spanish priest, had said, Dear child—to ensure your future, your personal goods must be sold and you can then go to England, the home of your relatives. You will be a poor girl, but you will be with your family…

      “And apart from being a keen horsewoman,” Hal asked, after a moment of watching the varying emotions darken her eyes, “what was your grandmother—Madrilene—like?”

      It gave Rachel a strange feeling to hear the name on his lips. In spite of their differing colouring, she thought Hal very like his father. No wonder her grandmother had become so obsessed with a similar attractive creature. “Oh…” She became aware of his enquiring expression. “She was beautiful; even old, when I knew her, the way she walked, the way she used her hands and her vivid presence drew all glances. She was also,” she added wryly, “not to be trusted with a peso when there was any game of chance in prospect. She was rich when she met and married my grandfather, still rich when my mother was alive but…towards the end of her life she had lost it all in one way or another. One way or another usually involving cards or dice, or horse races…well, whatever can be gambled upon.”

      Hal laughed. “Well, I can understand that.”

      “Are you a gambler?”

      Hal didn’t answer. Did he gamble? Yes, he did, it was the ruling passion in his life, or had been until he had set eyes on Katherine Monterey. As this thought struck him, he glanced to the floor where there was now a general move towards the party breaking up. It was well into the early evening and the children needed their rest, they were becoming tearful and cross. George and Judith decided they would stay another night; their children chose to take their little ones home to their own cots. The female adults fluttered about finding outdoor clothing and fitting it on to tired and wailing tots.

      Bess and Harry bade a fond farewell to those leaving and Hal was delegated to escort duty. The rest of the family retired to the parlour.

      “I think it went very well,” Bess said, relaxing into her chair by the hearth.

      “Indeed it did,” Harry agreed, taking his own place near her. Judith dropped a kiss on the top of his head in passing, and put a full glass in his hand. He sipped appreciatively.

      “It was lovely,” declared Judith. “Was it not, George?” George agreed, and busied himself finding seats for everyone. He hastened to the door to welcome two latecomers. Katherine had flown up the stairs to her chamber to repair her toilette, and Rachel had been helping to clear the table in the hall. They took their chairs, spread their skirts and raised their glasses to their lips.

      Katherine set hers down and spoke. “My dear Lady Bess, you should be very proud of your efforts today. So many guests, such fine food—so much of it prepared by your own hands! It is all very praiseworthy.”

      Bess smiled wryly. She wanted no praise for what was a pleasure, and resented the patronising tone the girl used. She had seen how her younger son had reacted to the exquisite Katherine but hoped it was just another case of beauty making its usual impact on Hal’s susceptibility in this area. He had always been so; even as a child he seemed to love the more physically attractive among his small circle, however kind and worthy the others. It was a fault, Bess had always conceded indulgently, but then children were like that. Now Hal was no longer a child, it worried her more, for beauty did not last nearly as long as other qualities and those qualities did not have room to emerge when a woman traded only on her looks, as the lovely Monterey demoiselle did. Bess’s sharp eyes had noticed that Katherine had annoyed most of the ladies tonight by flirting with their men, and—even though it was all in the family today—it was unacceptable behaviour.

      Most of Hal’s women, so far, had been like that, Bess mused, her blue eyes wandering over Katherine, who could have come from the same mould. Involuntarily her eyes moved to the girl sitting beside her, then quickly away. Better that known and familiar devil, than the one incalculable in the shape of Rachel. Last night Bess had liked Rachel Monterey, today she saw nothing but her likeness to a distressing phantom from the past.

      “What are you thinking of so carefully?” Harry asked her, leaning forward. She smiled to see him so well today. Those attacks of his came and went, and she felt strongly one must make the most of each day of good health.

      “That Hal is very taken with Katherine Monterey.”

      “Hal is always taken with any female of passing good favour.”

      “I think this may be different. After all, she is the granddaughter of an old friend of yours and I feel he would not have made it so plain if he were not serious.”

      Harry laughed. “I believe you are right. Our son is not a fool, and John Monterey, despite his disability, is a hard man.” He stretched out his legs, blissfully free of pain today. “What about the other little girl? I rather like her, but understand she is some kind of poor relation to the Montereys, with no means at all.”

      “No.”

      “But very taking looks, you must admit. Since she came here I have had the strangest feeling—as if I have known her before, although I cannot think where. I’m getting old, I suppose.”