There was already a small crowd making their way up the front path of the Moon House when Guy walked across with his two guests. He felt unaccountably on edge and spent the few minutes it took to get to the front door to run through his preparations. Nothing had been omitted, everything was as ready as it could be, he was backed up by two very senior magistrates and all the support they could possibly need. So what was he worrying about?
The answer hit him as he came through the front door in the wake of the curate and the Buntings. Hester.
She was standing in the hall directly under the lantern and the light sparked off her diamonds and burnished her hair. Her gown swathed her in a column of green so that she looked fresh and spring-like amidst the darker green of the swags. He had never seen her look lovelier and when she saw him her pale skin became rosy with a soft and charming blush. Should he really despair if he could make her colour like that? Surely she felt something for him still?
Her eyes, when he was close enough to take her hand, were expressive too: wide and brown and with the dangerous golden glint in them that warned him she was on her mettle and by no means ready to trust him tonight.
‘Good evening, my lord.’ Her voice held just the right degree of warmth and welcome and not one iota more.
‘Good evening, Miss Lattimer.’ He bowed over her hand saying, low voiced, as he straightened, ‘I have never seen you in greater beauty.’
If he had hoped to soften her, to prolong that delicate blush, he was mistaken. ‘Indeed, my lord? Then I must conclude that all my efforts were worthwhile, must I not?’
‘Viper,’ he returned, amused, and saw her eyes glint even brighter. ‘Please allow me to present my friends, Sir Jeremy Evelyn and Mr Earle. Gentlemen, Miss Lattimer.’
Sir Jeremy, rotund, jovial and a man who looked as if he spent his time acting as a model for Toby jugs rather than wrestling with difficult cases at Bow Street, bowed low over Hester’s hand. ‘Ma’am, we are in your debt. To be invited, as complete strangers, to share such charming festivities is a pleasure indeed.’
He was supplanted by Mr Earle, thin, cheerful and apparently, from his highly fashionable outfit and numerous dangling fobs, an amiable nonentity. This illusion served him well and it had taken him many years to perfect it.
Having greeted their hostess and yielded top coats and gloves to Jethro, resplendent in striped waistcoat and a tail coat only slightly too large for him, the gentlemen drifted through to the drawing room, which was already humming with company. Guy set himself to introduce his friends while mentally ticking off a list of who was there. Possibly half the expected company-and no sign of the Nugents. Too early to be concerned yet, they had a way to come.
Having chatted to the Redlands, met two new neighbours and congratulated Mrs Bunting on the results of her latest battles with the choirmaster, Guy moved across the hail to see who was in the dining room. Most of the young people, he noticed with amusement, The young men with half an eye on the buffet and half on the young ladies, the young ladies with no interest at all in the food and pretending complete indifference to the boys.
Smiling, he was about to turn and observe as much to Sir Jeremy when the picture propped on the mantel shelf caught his eye. He stared for a long moment, then strode up to it and studied it more closely. Where the hell had she found this?
‘Is that not strange, my lord?’ The voice, with nervous giggle, belonged to Miss Redland. ‘I mean, it has been slashed to shreds and just stuck hack together. But the lady is very lovely, is she not?’
‘Very,’ Guy agreed, staring back at the image, so hauntingly like his sister. I am going to strangle Hester.
‘Do you admire the lady from the attic?’ Hester spoke, cutting across his thought, ushering the Nugents into the warmth of the room. Guy turned, narrowing his eyes at her, furious he could not express his anger in such company-and then realised just what a masterstroke it was.
Both brother and sister had gone white to the lips, staring at the ravaged portrait. Of course, they would recognise Diana from the locket in the box. He fingered the golden oval that lay in his pocket.
‘Whoever is it, and what has become of it?’ It was Sarah Nugent speaking, recovering far faster than her brother, as Guy might have expected. She would be the hardest of the two to break, he knew that.
‘Yes,’ Guy chimed in, peering at the picture with every appearance of interest. ‘Do tell us about this, Miss Lattimer.’
‘Why, I know nothing,’ Hester said lightly with a shrug. ‘I found it in the attic in a terrible condition. I mended it as best I could, but she remains a mystery.’
‘I wonder you should care to have such a damaged thing on display, Miss Lattimer.’ Sarah Nugent’s brittle laugh made heads turn and several other people strolled over to look.
‘In a way I do not,’ Hester was saying, a troubled look in her eyes as she stared at the portrait. ‘But I felt… compelled. The thing positively haunts me.’
‘Fascinating.’ It was Sir Jeremy, braving the fire to stand as close as possible to study the scarred face.
‘Fascinating,’ Sir Lewis echoed, edging away. ‘Come, Sarah, there is Marcus Holding, and you recall he was interested in buying that mare of yours.’
‘Well done, Miss Lattimer,’ Sir Jeremy murmured. ‘I see you have a talent for intrigue.’
‘Hester.’ Guy took her arm and steered her as far away from the other guests as he could. ‘What are you about? That could have been dangerous.’
She smiled at him, maddening him and arousing him at the same time. ‘She looks so lovely from across the room. She used to hang there, I am quite sure. Do you think you will be able to get her properly restored?’
‘Me? But she is yours.’
‘Oh, no.’ Hester shook her head. ‘Do you think me blind? She is your grandmother, I assume.’ Without waiting for an answer she moved away to speak to other guests, leaving Guy staring after her.
Hester was soon too busy with her guests to worry overmuch about Guy’s inimical stare upon her or what the Nugents might be up to. The front rooms were filled to the point where she could be confident that this party would go down as a thorough-going success and she was in constant demand to chat to old friends and more recent acquaintances.