His One Woman by Paula Marshall Read Free Book Online

no—do not say so. It is not even certain that there will be a war.’
    â€˜Would that that were so,’ he told her indulgently, ‘but I am afraid that war is now inevitable.’ He turned to Marietta. ‘I am sure that the Senator would agree with me. May I compliment you again on your appearance, Marietta—it is as though no years at all have passed since we last had the good fortune to meet.’
    Marietta’s thanks for this compliment were coolly polite but genuine. For the first time in months, nettled by Sophie’s constant criticism of her, and a littleon her high ropes because of the Dilhorne party’s open admiration of her, she had dressed herself with some care.
    She was wearing a fashionable green velvet gown decorated with gold buttons and a certain quantity of discreetly placed gilt lace which showed off her glossy chestnut hair to advantage. More to the point, she had abandoned her normally severe coiffure in favour of one which allowed her glorious locks to hang loose a little before they were confined by a black velvet bandeau round her forehead. In the centre of it she had pinned a small topaz brooch. Her mirror had told her how much this unwonted care had improved her appearance.
    Sophie tossed her head a little. Plain Jane had no business to be receiving praise—that was for her. ‘Oh, Marietta always looks the same,’ she said, as though that were some major fault. ‘I suppose that your wife is still recovering from your journey from Grantsville and would find a visit to a Bazaar too exhausting.’
    Marietta threw Sophie a glance so withering that even that careless kitten quailed before it, while Avory, his face shuttered, said in a low voice, ‘My wife died suddenly six months ago—the news has possibly not yet reached you.’
    To save her cousin at least a little face for having forgotten what she must have been told, Marietta said, ‘Sophie has been living in the country until she came to Washington early this spring and consequently would not have been informed of your sad loss.’
    â€˜Oh, yes, indeed,’ stammered Sophie. ‘May I offer you my belated condolences, Avory?’
    Despite Marietta’s kind intervention, she shot her a look which was poisonous—but which Avory did not see. He inclined his head towards her and said, ‘You may, indeed. I thank you.’
    He addressed his next remark to Marietta. ‘I should wish to pay you a more formal visit before I leave Washington. I take it that you are still at your old address.’
    â€˜Yes, we shall be pleased to see you.’
    Sophie announced in a distracted voice, ‘Oh, look—Charles Stanton has just come in, but Jack isn’t with him. Wherever can he be?’
    Her brief moment of remorse for her thoughtlessness was over, and she was ready to resume her exciting social life. As on the night of the reception at the White House, she waved her hand above her head to attract attention, only this time it was holding her fan, not a bouquet.
    She had already forgiven Charles for having caused her to insult him by not using his proper name, and when he arrived at the stall her pleasure at seeing him was unfeigned because it allowed her to forget her recent gaffe and repair a previous one.
    â€˜Oh, m’lord,’ she exclaimed, startling Avory who was about to leave them. ‘How delightful to see you again. But where are your companions? I trust that they have not deserted us.’
    â€˜Not at all,’ said Charles gravely, including Avory in his bow to her and Marietta. ‘Alan was summoned at short notice to a committee on the Hill and took Jack with him. Since my specialist knowledge was not wanted today, Jack suggested that I come along and assure you that he and his brother would join us before the afternoon is over.’
    â€˜We are being remiss,’ said Marietta, trying not to sound as though she were reproaching