Sitting back, he allowed his eyes to play over the creamy perfection of Stephanie’s complexion and, as he marvelled again at the curling length of the sooty black lashes that framed the deep azure blue of her eyes, the neat little nose and the sweet rosebud lips, a deep sigh seemed to tug at his heart. But then, suddenly conscious that he had, perhaps, been staring at the lady rather longer than was circumspect, he forced himself to drag his gaze away from Stephanie’s all-encompassing loveliness and allowed it to drift across to her companion, only to discover that, if the curve of her lips was anything to go by, Catford’s cousin appeared to be regarding him with a certain amount of amusement.
Feeling somewhat like a naughty schoolboy who had been caught with his hand in the biscuit jar, a slight flush appeared on his face and he hurriedly dropped his gaze and endeavoured to concentrate his attention on the ongoing conversation.
‘His lordship is being most kind,’ Stephanie was enthusing, as she cast a warm smile at the viscount. ‘He has chosen to accompany us on our afternoon excursions almost every day since my arrival—he insists that it is good exercise for him—although I am sure he would rather be off shooting with the other gentlemen.’
‘Not at all, my dear,’ demurred Catford graciously. ‘I’m not yet up to tramping the heath—more than happy to be of service, I assure you.’
‘Cat keeps us entertained with his endless fund of droll anecdotes about his travels,’ said Georgianne, shooting her cousin a fond glance. She had been somewhat taken aback at Maitland’s response to her smile, which had been merely been offered as a gesture of friendliness on her part. His reaction to Stephanie’s loveliness had come as no surprise to her, since it was very little different from that of the majority of others of his sex when they first set eyes upon her friend. Having known Stephanie all her life, Georgianne had learned to regard such behaviour with patient equanimity, experience having shown her that this sort of awestruck admiration was inclined, for the most part, to be fairly short-lived. She was well aware that her friend took such adulation as her due, deriving much enjoyment from playing off one hopeful contender against another. It was not that Georgianne particularly approved of Stephanie’s somewhat cavalier attitude towards her fluctuating band of admirers, but rather that she felt that any man who allowed himself to be treated in such a way was no man at all and must, therefore, deserve all he got. Furthermore, although she had no personal interest in him, she did feel a slight sense of disappointment that the man who had risked his own life to go to her cousin’s aid should turn out to be as shallow as the majority of Stephanie’s previous devotees.
‘You must know the area pretty well, Eddie,’ ventured Maitland, reluctantly hauling his thoughts back to the real reason he had set out on this journey. ‘Do you have you any idea where might I procure a list of the local churchyards? I suppose that ought to be my first objective.’
Catford pursed his lips in thought, then, ‘Reginald Barkworth is your man,’ he nodded. ‘Used to be the curate at the parish church in Dunchurch. Veritable encyclopaedia when it comes to local history—oh, botheration! Here we are at the Willowby turn, old man. Time to bid you farewell, I fear!’
Not at all sorry to extract himself from Georgianne Venables’s somewhat pointed scrutiny, Maitland opened the door, leapt nimbly from the landaulet and untied Pegasus from his tether. Catford leaning out, waited for his friend to mount before adjuring him not to fail to present himself at the Hall with all speed as soon as he was settled in.
‘Reginald Barkworth,’ he called, in reminder, as Maitland turned his horse’s head towards his destination. ‘Tell him I sent you and be sure to let us know how you get on with your quest, dear fellow.’
Maitland had no difficulty in giving his promise, since he had every intention of finding his way to Gresham Hall and the fair Miss Highsmith at the earliest opportunity but then, as he suddenly remembered that he had prevailed upon Chadwick, his man, not to bother to pack his decent dress-clothes, he cursed himself for a fool. Determined to reach the inn in time to send off for reinforcements to his meagre wardrobe, he reluctantly waved farewell to his travelling companions and set off up the turnpike.
Chapter Three
Georgianne viewed Maitland’s departing figure with an odd mixture of curiosity and disappointment.
‘It will be very pleasant for you to have Mr Maitland’s company again after so many months, Eddie,’ she then observed.
‘Capital fellow,’ replied the viscount enthusiastically. ‘Served with him for almost five years. A superb horseman and very handy in a bare-knuckle spar, he can shoot out a pip at twenty-five feet and hold his liquor with the best of them!’
Georgianne’s lips twitched. ‘High recommendations, to be sure!’
Catford laughed. ‘Perhaps not to the ladies, dear coz—but I, for one, will never forget that I owe Will Maitland my life.’
His eyes grew bleak momentarily and there was a heavy silence. Stephanie sighed and a small frown creased her brow as Georgianne leant once more towards the viscount.
‘You never speak about those times, Eddie,’ she said in a tentative voice. ‘I know that they must have been very bad, for Uncle Charles allowed me to read some of the dispatches.’
Stephanie shot a fulminating glance towards her friend.
‘I’m sure Edwin would rather not be reminded of his dreadful experiences, Georgianne,’ she said pointedly. ‘I have never understood why he felt it necessary to join the military in the first place—but, now that he is home again, it is surely finished with and best forgotten, I believe.’
‘It certainly doesn’t do to dwell on the matter,’ agreed Catford, quickly recovering his composure and smiling across at his young companions. ‘As to forgetting, of course, I shall be hard pressed to do that while I still have this gammy leg—but Stephanie is quite right, Georgie. War is not a suitable topic for social discourse and, most certainly, never for young ladies’ ears.’
Ignoring Georgianne’s affronted expression at this last remark, he turned the conversation to the coming celebrations and listened with cheerful interest as Stephanie, her face glowing with delight, described in detail the utter perfection of her newest gown.
‘And you, Georgie?’ he enquired, in a teasing voice. ‘What stunning creation has Madame produced for you?’
Georgianne laughed, her good humour immediately restored. ‘You know perfectly well that I do not have Steffi’s enthusiasm for such matters, Eddie. Madame Henri and I have reached an understanding and I am usually very happy with her work.’
‘I find it quite extraordinary that Georgianne never takes even the tiniest bit of interest in the latest fashions,’ said Stephanie, complacently smoothing the pleats of her smart blue velvet carriage-dress. ‘I swear that she’d wear the same outfit on every occasion if someone did not take her in hand!’
But her eyes twinkled at her friend as she spoke and Georgianne smilingly nodded in agreement.
‘Very probably,’ she said, looking down at her own well-worn, but still perfectly serviceable russet-coloured pelisse. ‘I like to be comfortable; provided that I don’t look an absolute fright, then I’m perfectly happy!’
Catford grinned. ‘I’d like to be at that unlikely