The Witness on the Roof by Annie Haynes Read Free Book Online

inexperienced to realize how much Warchester was helping her on or to appreciate how perfect a partner he was.
    â€œThank you, Miss Davenant! I shall always owe Cairns a debt of gratitude for coming when he did.”
    The amber specks in Joan’s eyes were very apparent as she glanced at him.
    â€œCairns, I do not understand.”
    â€œI have been your first partner. I shall remember that always,” he said, looking at her intently.
    â€œOur pupil does us credit, Lord Warchester,’’ said Cynthia, coming towards him. “Do you know, Joan, it is later than I thought? We shall have to dress immediately.” She took the girl’s hand. “Hurry, hurry!”
    Warchester moved forward quickly and intercepted them at the door.
    â€œHow many dances will you give me to-night, Miss Davenant?”
    Joan hesitated a second; her colour was heightened by the unwonted exercise, and her breath came quicker through her parted lips.
    â€œHow many do you want?”
    â€œEvery one you can spare.”
    â€œDo you not think you are rather rash?” asked Joan. “I do not expect to be in universal request. Quite possibly you will be the only person who will ask me to dance at all.”
    â€œMay I take the chance?” Warchester’s eyes were very eager as he asked the question.
    â€œWe will see later,” Joan said mischievously as she followed Cynthia.
    â€œThere is plenty of time really,” Cynthia confided to her as they went upstairs. “But I felt we must look at your gown. I believe it has just come, and in case Aunt Ursula has sent something perfectly frightful I want Celestine to see what she can do with it. Well, Celestine”—as the maid opened the door—“is it possible? Can Miss Davenant wear it?”
    Celestine held up her hands.
    â€œBut, madame—possible? It is all that there is of superbe... magnifique! ”
    â€œWhat? Superbe! Magnifique! ” Cynthia hurried across to the couch.
    Joan’s gown lay there enshrouded in folds of tissue-paper but gleaming lustrously through them.
    â€œOh, Joan!” she gasped. “Who would have thought it of Aunt Ursula? Celestine, you must do your best for Miss Davenant to-night.”
    â€œThat will not be difficult, madame,” Celestine responded as she loosened Joan’s rippling hair.
    Joan’s thoughts were very far away as she sat silent before the long pier-glass while Celestine’s clever fingers were busily at work. The girl would scarcely have been mortal if thoughts of Lord Warchester had not obtruded upon her.
    She was trying to recall what she had heard of him from Cynthia. She knew that he had succeeded an uncle with whom he had been at variance for years and that, though he had been a friend of Reggie Trewhistle’s in their boyhood, of late they had seen little of one another.
    She had heard that the new Lord Warchester had lived much abroad, and that rumour had been busy, as usual, with his past. She had a vague recollection too of having heard that a house called the Marsh, with a certain amount of property around it, had passed on the late Lord Warchester’s death to a cousin of the present peer, and wondered disconnectedly whether the cousins were alike—whether the younger one had the same kindly smile, the same, deep-set, haunting eyes as Lord Warchester himself.
    â€œNow, mademoiselle!” The hair was finished, Celestine was waiting to help Joan with the gown, and for the time the latter forgot her speculations in the delight of seeing herself for once really well dressed.
    Celestine stood back a few paces to survey her handiwork when all was finished.
    â€œ Mais , Mademoiselle is perfect—ravishing!”
    The flush on Joan’s cheeks deepened as she looked at her reflection. Assuredly Mrs. Davenant had known what she was about when she ordered the gown. The ivory-like material, lovely as it was, was merely the background for