Read Online Flight of the Eagle by Peter Watt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Peter Watt
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port in his crystal goblet.
Brett Norris was the son of Henry and Susan sitting opposite Patrick and had been conveniently seated on Catherine's left. Patrick was fuming with jealousy. He had not considered the possibility of some other man intruding on his short time with the beautiful woman whom he had so recently met.
When the dinner was over the guests rose from the table and broke into cliques – the men to sip port and smoke cigars, the ladies to take tea and coffee or sherry. The men would continue talk of investment opportunities, game shooting, fox hunting and salmon fishing, while the ladies gathered in a huddle to gossip of scandals in the county, fashions in London and holidays in the south of France.
Patrick selected a good Havana from a silver box and leant to light the cigar from the flickering flame of a candle. From the corner of his eye he could see Catherine standing very close to Brett Norris and laughing softly at something he said.
Patrick feigned to ignore their intimacy and strode after the men into an anteroom adorned with paintings of rural life, portraits of past Fitzgerald men and women and paintings of fine, thoroughbred horses. Tea and coffee pots steamed on a silver salver set on a polished teak sideboard. Further along was a crystal decanter of good port and rows of small glasses.
Patrick poured himself a port and was about to join the circle of men when he heard his name called. He turned to see Letitia Norris approaching him with a hopeful smile.
‘Miss Norris,’ he acknowledged politely with a smile and a nod of his head.
‘Captain Duffy, I'm afraid I was denied the pleasure of your conversation during dinner,’ she said, gazing up into the emerald eyes of the Australian. They were beautiful eyes, the eyes of a poet. Like the eyes of the romantic Lord Byron whose tragic life was not unlike the one this soldier led. A man destined to fight for the Queen in exotic places and dream of her with unrequited yearning. ‘I was hoping I might have the opportunity to engage you now,’ she sighed as Patrick glanced across her bare shoulders at Lady Jane Garnett holding court with the women. He noticed the disapproving expression on Letitia's mother's face. Soldiers were not fit company for her daughter, not even officers, whose pay was not sufficient to keep her daughter in the style to which she was accustomed.
Despite the pursed lips and scowl from Susan Norris, Patrick chose to indulge in some harmless flirtation with the young woman who, he could see, was smitten by him. Besides, Catherine was not the only pretty young lady in the room.
Letitia continued to gaze into his eyes with her wine moistened, rose-bud mouth partly agape, revealing tiny perfectly set teeth. But Missus Norris was a determined lady. She swept across the room to rescue her daughter. With feeble protests Letitia desperately sought a way of remaining in the company of her latter day Lord Byron but her mother's will was stronger and she led her daughter to the court of Lady Garnett to indulge in proper social intercourse.
Patrick smiled ruefully for the opportunity lost to make Catherine jealous. But things did not go unnoticed by Catherine who realised she also had competition for the captain's attentions. It was a thought galling to her that he might even find the prudish Letitia Norris in the slightest bit interesting, and with a deliberate gesture of defiance she took Brett by the arm and swept across the room towards Patrick.
He noticed Catherine approaching with Brett Norris on her arm, her red dress clinging seductively to her body and accentuating her hourglass figure. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a crown of whorls and she wore an emerald necklace around her pale throat. The gems caught the colour of her eyes perfectly and Patrick felt a surge of desire for her.
‘Captain Duffy, you did not have an opportunity to meet Mister Brett Norris when you arrived,’ she said sweetly, with a smile
Brett Norris was the son of Henry and Susan sitting opposite Patrick and had been conveniently seated on Catherine's left. Patrick was fuming with jealousy. He had not considered the possibility of some other man intruding on his short time with the beautiful woman whom he had so recently met.
When the dinner was over the guests rose from the table and broke into cliques – the men to sip port and smoke cigars, the ladies to take tea and coffee or sherry. The men would continue talk of investment opportunities, game shooting, fox hunting and salmon fishing, while the ladies gathered in a huddle to gossip of scandals in the county, fashions in London and holidays in the south of France.
Patrick selected a good Havana from a silver box and leant to light the cigar from the flickering flame of a candle. From the corner of his eye he could see Catherine standing very close to Brett Norris and laughing softly at something he said.
Patrick feigned to ignore their intimacy and strode after the men into an anteroom adorned with paintings of rural life, portraits of past Fitzgerald men and women and paintings of fine, thoroughbred horses. Tea and coffee pots steamed on a silver salver set on a polished teak sideboard. Further along was a crystal decanter of good port and rows of small glasses.
Patrick poured himself a port and was about to join the circle of men when he heard his name called. He turned to see Letitia Norris approaching him with a hopeful smile.
‘Miss Norris,’ he acknowledged politely with a smile and a nod of his head.
‘Captain Duffy, I'm afraid I was denied the pleasure of your conversation during dinner,’ she said, gazing up into the emerald eyes of the Australian. They were beautiful eyes, the eyes of a poet. Like the eyes of the romantic Lord Byron whose tragic life was not unlike the one this soldier led. A man destined to fight for the Queen in exotic places and dream of her with unrequited yearning. ‘I was hoping I might have the opportunity to engage you now,’ she sighed as Patrick glanced across her bare shoulders at Lady Jane Garnett holding court with the women. He noticed the disapproving expression on Letitia's mother's face. Soldiers were not fit company for her daughter, not even officers, whose pay was not sufficient to keep her daughter in the style to which she was accustomed.
Despite the pursed lips and scowl from Susan Norris, Patrick chose to indulge in some harmless flirtation with the young woman who, he could see, was smitten by him. Besides, Catherine was not the only pretty young lady in the room.
Letitia continued to gaze into his eyes with her wine moistened, rose-bud mouth partly agape, revealing tiny perfectly set teeth. But Missus Norris was a determined lady. She swept across the room to rescue her daughter. With feeble protests Letitia desperately sought a way of remaining in the company of her latter day Lord Byron but her mother's will was stronger and she led her daughter to the court of Lady Garnett to indulge in proper social intercourse.
Patrick smiled ruefully for the opportunity lost to make Catherine jealous. But things did not go unnoticed by Catherine who realised she also had competition for the captain's attentions. It was a thought galling to her that he might even find the prudish Letitia Norris in the slightest bit interesting, and with a deliberate gesture of defiance she took Brett by the arm and swept across the room towards Patrick.
He noticed Catherine approaching with Brett Norris on her arm, her red dress clinging seductively to her body and accentuating her hourglass figure. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a crown of whorls and she wore an emerald necklace around her pale throat. The gems caught the colour of her eyes perfectly and Patrick felt a surge of desire for her.
‘Captain Duffy, you did not have an opportunity to meet Mister Brett Norris when you arrived,’ she said sweetly, with a smile
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