Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 06] - The Noblest Frailty by Patricia Veryan Read Free Book Online Page A

stated unequivocally, "would have attempted such a
jump, let alone failed to consider that a vehicle might be travelling
along the lane, and although I grant you it is not as well travelled as
it was in my dear husband's day, for then there was a far jollier life
here— Oh, but you should have seen the balls and the boat parties and
garden fetes! I well remember those grand times!" She chose not to
remember that her "dear husband" was known to have all but bankrupted
the estates, so that his brother had been obliged to wage a desperate
struggle to restore Park Parapine to solvency. She became so busied
with her reminiscences, however, that she forgot the initial trend of
her remarks and eventually paused in a little confusion.
    It was the opportunity for which Devenish had been waiting
with concealed but fuming impatience. "It must have been grand indeed,
ma'am," he inserted swiftly. "And as for the fiasco today, I am more
than thankful for your concern. But surely, Yolande will not attempt a
journey—under the circumstances?"
    "I do trust she will not," his foil replied, portentously.
"She was quite knocked up, did you not think? She is a brave girl, and
people fancy her stronger than she is, but to go all the way to
Scotland so soon after a dreadful accident would be most unwise, and so
I shall tell her mama. Dear Lady Louisa is not the one, despite
other
counsel, to dismiss as merest frippery the opinions held by family
members." This vengeful theme pleased her, and she rattled on happily
for some moments, slanting such veiled but slanderous barbs at her
absent brother-in-law that she felt triumphant and was much more in
charity with him by the time she had exhausted the topic.
    Devenish waited politely, but did not attend her and, as soon
as was decently possible, escaped. He rode home at a less
neck-or-nothing rate of speed than was his usual habit, restraining his
beautiful black mare's occasional spirited attempts to break into a
gallop. His hand on the rein was, in fact, so unwontedly heavy that
twice she rolled an indignant eye at him. Of this, also, he was
unaware. He rode along lost in thought, his expression grave. For Mr.
Alain Devenish was an unhappy man. Mrs. Drummond's volubility had
apprised him of the fact that his chosen bride, aware that she was soon
to depart on a long journey, had not only shown no slightest concern
about being parted from him for a protracted period, but had failed to
notify him of her impending removal. Further, her parents, with whom he
had always stood on the best of terms, appeared to be part of what he
could only judge to be a conspiracy of silence.
    Frowning, he recalled his most recent disagreement (it could
scarcely be rated a quarrel) with Yolande. For as long as he could
remember he had taken it for granted— He grunted impatiently; well, not
taken it for granted
, exactly, but certainly
anticipated
that they would wed. The two families were so close; Arthur and John
and little Rosemary were almost like brothers and sister to him. And he
and Yolande had always been such fine friends. She had not, in fact,
begun to grow skittish and flighty and argumentative until first he
started to speak of setting the date for their marriage. She was a
lovely and sought-after debutante, and as such had the usual share of
cow-eyed admirers, but he was willing to swear she cared for none of
them and was merely, womanlike, being just a little, and quite
charmingly, coquettish, before settling down to domesticity. He sighed
wistfully. He had been more shaken than he would have cared to admit
when she had told him with that suddenly troubled look that
he
was not ready to settle down. Such fustian! He was five and twenty,
deeply in love with his lady, and had—as she herself had pointed out—an
estate in Gloucestershire that had been too long neglected. Devencourt.
His lips tightened. The haunted manor. It was ridiculous, but his
childish feeling about the house persisted. His earliest