His One Woman. Paula Marshall

last remark, said, with a grin, ‘And that’s you pinned down, little brother. How did she come to that conclusion so rapidly?’

      ‘His silver tongue,’ said Marietta, before Jack could speak. ‘She compared it to that of Mrs Beecher Stowe’s brother, whom she thinks to be a rogue.’

      ‘Since I know nothing of the gentleman,’ said Jack, as grave as a judge, or someone trying to solve a problem in logic, ‘you might tell me something of him so that I may know how apt the comparison is.’

      ‘That,’ Marietta told him, ‘is easy. He’s a reverend gentleman who has made a name for himself as a great preacher, full of morality and pious advice. But, and I hate to report this, there have been suggestions that the good reverend is one of those who preach Do as I say, not do as I do.’

      ‘Exactly like Jack, then,’ offered Alan, at which the whole party burst out laughing, not least Jack himself.

      ‘It’s a good thing I’m not a conceited fellow,’ he volunteered at last, ‘or else I should be thoroughly downcast after all this criticism, but since I’m not—’

      He was not allowed to finish. Even Sophie, who had found all this banter difficult to follow and was furious that Marietta was once again the subject of interest and not herself, joined in the laughter.

      Marietta had not enjoyed herself so much in years—for that matter, neither had Jack. The States—or rather their lively women—were providing him with more entertainment than he could have expected.

      So he told his brother and Charles on the way back to their various lodgings. Alan took this somewhat unexpected news gravely.

      ‘In which of the two Hope cousins are you more interested, Jack?’ he asked. ‘Either, both or neither? I should like to think that you were aware that although Miss Sophie Hope does not possess a heart to break, her cousin is quite another case. She could most easily be hurt by someone who ignored how vulnerable she is behind her collected exterior.’

      ‘Now, Alan,’ said Jack, his easy smile moderating the sting of his reply. ‘You are only my big brother, not my father confessor. I’m only trying to bring a little gaiety into what seems to me to be Miss Marietta’s rather arduous life—and I am well aware of the different nature of the two cousins.’

      ‘Excellent,’ said Alan. ‘I am glad to hear it—big brothers are traditionally allowed to act as advisers to little brothers, you know.’

      ‘Agreed,’ said Jack, ‘so long as they don’t overdo it. Now, let us tell Charles that he has a busy day ahead of him tomorrow. In the morning you are compelling us both to accompany you to the gymnasium you have discovered not too far from your lodgings, and in the afternoon we have all been invited to attend a Congressional committee which is meeting in the Capitol itself. That should make for an interesting day, should it not? Physical work in the morning and mental in the afternoon. It will be our duty to see that Her Majesty’s unofficial envoy to the United States government doesn’t arrive at the Capitol too heavily marked after his morning’s exertions.’

      Charles laughed. One of the pleasures of meeting his patron’s brother had been to discover that what Lord Knaresborough, who was Alan’s mentor, had once said was true: that, judging by what Alan had told him, all the Dilhorne family were as remarkable as he was. Charles could not help wondering what the other members of it were like, particularly Thomas, who had become Fred. Was it because the Patriarch had been transported, and had spent his life away from England and its formal society, that they had turned out so strikingly original?

      Like Alan, Charles was beginning to wonder which of the Hope cousins was engaging Jack’s attention. He had thought at first that it was Sophie, which would have left the field open for him to pay court to Marietta, to whom he was becoming increasingly drawn. Lately, however, it seemed to be Marietta on whom Jack was fixed and that, sadly for his own wishes, she was attracted to Jack—indeed, had eyes for no one else.

      Marietta herself, once the Dilhorne party had left, was confessing the same thing to herself. Her feelings for Jack had become such that in his presence every other man he was with seemed extinguished by him. Jealous Sophie, watching them, seethed inwardly.

      It wasn’t fair! She had met Jack first and she could have sworn that he had instantly been powerfully attracted to her; and then he had met Marietta on the afternoon she had been wasting her time on silly duty calls, and everything had changed.

      How in the world could such a plain elderly stick as Marietta charm someone so lively and amusing as Jack? Was it his nasty brother—for Sophie had begun to suspect that Alan was not as charmed by her as he appeared to be—who had turned him against her? Yes, that was it—and Charles Stanton was no better: he had eyes only for Marietta and treated her, Sophie, as though she were his troublesome little sister.