The Lammas Curse by Anna Lord Read Free Book Online Page A

meaningfully at the
narrow passage and began to sway.
    The maître d’ looked even more
terrified. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow. He used the linen
napkin draped over his arm to mop his face.
    “What about that vacant seat at
the end of the car?” supplied the Countess, looking past a sagging
shoulder, drooping under the weight of responsibility and elaborate
epaulets.
    Rallying himself, the maître d’
stiffened his back before ushering the Countess and the doctor to
the end of the car, gliding swiftly past the American couple. But
Dr Watson grabbed her arm none too gently.
    “What are you playing at?” he
hissed under his breath. “Are you mad! Don’t you recognise the
poodle hair? That is the woman I had the altercation with
earlier!”
    She angled her head and
whispered over her shoulder. “There is method in my madness, mon
ami . I do recognize her even if you do not. Follow my
lead and pas de gaffe !”
    The maître d’ came to an abrupt
halt at the end of the dining car. “Pardon me,” he addressed
cringingly to the poodle pair, “I am aware that you requested to be
seated at your own table but Company policy prohibits diners being
turned away if any seats remain unoccupied.”
    The platinum twins were about
to vent their opinion regarding Company policy when the Countess
took charge.
    “ Enchante ,” she gushed,
slipping fluidly into the banquette, “I hope we are not disturbing
you. But what can one do? These dining cars are so frightfully
cramped, never large enough. Let me introduce myself - Countess
Varvara Volodymyrovna,” she trilled with conceit, “and my
travelling companion, Dr John Watson.”
    Dr Watson followed her cue
wearing a stiff-upper-lip smile. But all seemed forgiven. The young
lady was no longer glaring daggers, though one glance from the
Arctic blue eyes could still freeze the marrow in his bones. He
felt an involuntary shiver as he acknowledged the two people on the
opposite side of the table with a sheepish nod of his head.
    “I’m Miss Catherine Dee,”
responded the young woman crisply, “and this is my brother, Mr
Carter Dee.”
    The penny dropped clunkily!
Wards of Lord Cruddock!
    “I hope your clubs are all
right,” muttered Dr Watson – no wonder the Countess had engineered
to sit at their table! He had thought for a moment she was merely
trying to exacerbate his humiliation. “I apologise unreservedly. I
dropped something and…oh, never mind.”
    “My clubs are fine,” dismissed
Miss Dee with disdainful affability, “and your apology is accepted
providing you forgive my rudeness, but, well, I was so worried
about my new clubs.”
    “Quite understandable,” Dr
Watson said with a tepid smile that would never grow more than
lukewarm under the icy stare. To avoid looking into her eyes he
stared at the white shingle hair. She must have been born minus the
attribute that determines pigmentation. She could have passed for
albino but for the pale blue eyes, the same for her twin
brother.
    The dining car had all the
hallmarks of an exclusive London restaurant, but the menu was not a la carte and the courses were promptly served so as not to
delay the second sitting. White wine arrived just as the train
chugged to the top of Whitmore Hill and the stilted conversation
seemed to register the strain but lo and behold just as the engine
reached the summit and began the smooth descent to the Cheshire
Plain so the last vestige of awkwardness seemed to drop away and
conversation began to flow freely.
    “Is this what you dropped?”
said Mr Dee, extracting a paper from the pocket of his frock coat
as some leek and potato soup made an appearance.
    Dr Watson was stunned and
clearly showed it. “Yes, yes, it is,” he stammered as the young man
handed over his letter, hand slightly shaky. “How ever did you know
it was mine?”
    “I saw something flutter from
your pocket as you spun round, but, what with the mayhem that
followed, I forgot all about it, but just after