Amy Lake by Lady Reggieand the Viscount Read Free Book Online Page A

Lord Davies’s mother.  The twins were the misses Isolde and Carys, both names as unusual as their brother’s, and deriving, we learned, from the Welsh background of Lady Davies. 
    “We don’t stand on formality,” said the viscountess, explaining why neither daughter was addressed as Miss Davies.  “To tell you the truth—”
    “Mother!” exclaimed Carys, blushing.  She had apparently heard Lady Davies on this topic before.
    “—I hardly remember which is the older.”
    The two young ladies were remarkably similar in appearance, not only in height and face but also in the manner in which they stood and sat—for the tea had arrived quickly, thank heavens, and I had something with which to occupy my hands.  Both were fine featured, with eyes of a deep blue, like their brother, but hair much darker than his, a soft chestnut brown.  They were elegantly dressed in muslin gowns, the same dress, I think, but of different colours.  Carys, who seemed quieter and even a little shy, had the yellow, and Isolde wore a robin’s egg blue.
    The comparison with my own gown was not a happy one.  I should have given Cassie free rein with the scissors , I thought, glancing down at the odious ruffles.  After a moment I managed to put my own feelings to the side and concentrate on making our guests feel at home.  Cassandra began chatting with Isolde.  I turned my attention to Carys.
    “Are you newly in London like your brother?” I asked her.  I thought I would have noticed twins, and in fact society gossip would have made it certain.  They were younger than the viscount; perhaps this was their first season.
    “Oh.  Ah . . . no.  Well, yes.”  
    Carys seemed tongue-tied, which surprised me, as I don’t believe my conversation is often considered daunting.  I smiled and made a second attempt, feeling—somehow—the viscount’s gaze turn my way. 
    He approached, saying, “My mother and sisters have been rarely in London, of late.  They’ve spent most of the last few years in my company at Pencarrow.”
    Pencarrow must be the name of his estate, I thought.
    “That sounds delightful.”  I did not need to feign interest; if Miss Davies and her family had indeed spent several years in Cornwall I would be delighted to hear every detail.  In my mind I saw warmth, and sunshine, and fresh air.    
    Miss Davies brightened at my words.  “’Tis the most wonderful place in the world,” she said, with some warmth, and promptly blushed.
    ‘Tell me all about it,’ I prepared to say, but the countess’s voice intervened.
    “Regina, darling!  Lord Davies has expressed an interest in the portrait of your grandfather, and I vow I cannot remember so much as the artist’s name.”  She fluttered one hand and flashed his lordship an apologetic smile.  “My daughter has an excellent understanding of such matters.”
    The portrait in question was, of course, in the furthest corner of the room, at sufficient distance from the conversing group that a young man and a young woman could, if they were so inclined, exchange a few private words.  The painting was dingy and grey, with its frame kept in ill-repair, and I’d have bet Cleopatra and her saddle that the viscount had never noticed the thing, much less expressed interest in it. 
    “Such a favorite of my husband,” the countess was saying to Lady Davies.
    I nearly rolled my eyes.  My father has a particular dislike for this portrait, and takes no pains to disguise it.  I gave his lordship a small smile, and a tiny shrug of my shoulders.  He extended his arm, and I felt Cassie’s amused glance on my back as we walked away. 
    * * * *
     
    “I trust you are well,” began Lord Davies.
    “Very well, thank you.”
    Young gentleman, as a rule, do not intimidate me; whatever complaints my mother has against my social accomplishments, she cannot accuse me of being shy.  But Lord Davies seemed to have a peculiar effect on my conduct.  First I accepted a