Read Online Feather Castles by Patricia Veryan - Free Book Online

and with a slow frown he said, “His is the type of mind to hold evil thoughts of everyone. Nor is he alone in this.” He slanted an oblique glance at her. “Speaking of which—what has become of our heroic Capitaine? ”
    The implication caused Rachel’s heart to jump. “Sister Maria Evangeline took him under her wing, I believe,” she replied, with a nonchalance that betrayed no hint of her awareness that the soldier occupied a room in this very inn.
    Wandering to the fireplace, Sanguinet stared in silence at the empty grate. Rachel watched him uneasily, wondering if by right of their close friendship he was about to censure her, or if he was worried that his having allowed the soldier to accompany them would anger Claude. She had seldom seen the brothers together, but it was obvious that Claude was very much the head of his house, especially where Guy was concerned. Never, by the faintest inference, had Guy implied that a rift existed between them. Rachel had been quick to notice, however, that if she chanced to mention him, a gleam of amusement would come into Claude’s eyes; a sardonic amusement. There was no doubt but that Parnell was his favourite, and she sensed that for Guy he held a barely concealed scorn; an impression she found disquieting.
    Her knowledge of her betrothed was relatively slight, although she had been acquainted with him since childhood. She had never been quite sure of the way in which her father was linked to Sanguinet’s financial enterprises, but that Strand was in some way of service to the younger man, she knew. They shared political persuasions, she’d gathered, and both found horse racing, gambling and beautiful women irresistible. Papa had often been a guest at the Sanguinet estate in Kent, and occasionally Parnell, the middle brother, had visited Strand Hall. When Rachel had left the schoolroom, Papa had made no secret of the fact that he cherished hopes for a marriage between her and Parnell, but try as she would, she had been unable to develop a liking for the Frenchman, and Charity was downright afraid of him. Handsome in a dark, gaunt fashion, he had strangely light eyes and an odd intensity of manner—like a leashed panther, said Charity. When Guy had put in an appearance, however, both sisters had warmed to him at once. They had soon learned that his heart was totally and hopelessly given to Parnell’s ward, but he affected no die-away airs, and Rachel liked him as much for his droll humour and quiet, courtly manners, as for his unfailing gentleness with Charity. He spent much time in England on his brother’s affairs, but after Rupert Strand’s death, his visits to Strand Hall diminished, whereas Claude’s became more frequent. Claude was older than Guy, by about ten years. He had never mentioned his age, but Rachel guessed him to be in the neighbourhood of forty. She knew that he was extremely wealthy, a power in international politics and finance, and possessed of a shocking reputation as a rake. But to the daughters of his old friend, he was the soul of sympathy and understanding. Accustomed to command, and surrounded by a small army of efficient servants, he had solved many of Rachel’s hitherto insoluble problems with, as it seemed, the merest snap of his fingers. He was poised, elegant, gentle, knowledgeable, and an unfailing source of kindness and support. Cut by Society, and beset on every side by tradesmen, unpaid servants, staggering expenses, and her sister’s deteriorating health, Rachel had come to rely more and more heavily on his advice. It was wrong, she knew, to allow him to do so much, but whenever she protested, he had some logical reason for offering assistance. “Am I not a trusted friend of the family?” he would say, rather wistfully. Or, with a shrug of impeccably clad shoulders and a kindly smile warming his light brown eyes, he would sigh, “I—the funds have; you, the