Read Online Lady Adventuress 02 - The Education of Lord Hartley by Daphne du Bois - Free Book Online
Authors: Daphne du Bois
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the best trail we have just right now. There is no time to lose. We must go after her. Tonight.”
Hart considered this as Frederick moved across the room to ring for his cloak.
“We cannot both go,” he said at last.
Frederick turned around to give his friend a bewildered look.
“But we must! Already she has a day’s head start.”
“That is correct. But if we both go running heedlessly in pursuit of your sister, then we won’t hear of it if some other news should come in. This is not the time to be hasty.”
“Then you propose we stay here and wait?” Frederick’s expression made it clear what he thought of such a notion.
Hart gave him a patient look, while retrieving his driving gloves from the table. “Not at all. You will remain here in case another runner should come. I shall go to France. I could have my chaise ready within the hour. You, my friend, speak barely a word of French and so could not hope to be of any help in that country.”
Frederick considered arguing before deciding that Hart had always been much better when it came to plotting and strategy, and his advice did seem sound. Hart thought of Maggie as his own sister. And Frederick could not pretend that his French was even remotely passable.
“Very well. I see that I am fated to stay here and wait – you have me brought at Point Non Plus .”
Frederick’s dark expression communicated just how much he hated the thought of staying behind.
“I will find her, and bring her home. I promise,” Hart said in a low voice.
*
The Strathavon house in Paris was magnificent, situated squarely on the fashionable avenue de Richelieu. Maggie could not quite believe it when she first caught sight of the elegant façade. Judging from her expression, neither could Cecile.
They hesitated a moment, unsure how to proceed.
“Well, I expect we had better knock on the door – I wonder if they really are expecting us?” Maggie said at last. She felt nervous about appearing suddenly on the front step of a strange house, without even Lady Strathavon to introduce her to the staff.
“I hope they are. There would have been time enough for them to receive word,” Cecile said, though her voice was a little hesitant.
“Then there is only one thing to do – and it’s no use sitting around here.” Maggie let Cecile hold the horses while she descended the barouche and proceeded to the front door.
She did not allow herself a moment’s hesitation before giving two brisk, precise knocks with the bronze knocker.
A footman opened the door, and a butler arrived swiftly in his wake.
“Good morning, Madame. You must be Madame la Baronne – her ladyship has written us that you are to be our new tenant. I am Duby, the butler,” the man said with the professional efficiency that was such a hallmark of the profession.
“Good morning, Duby. Yes, I am Madame de Gramont, and the lady in the barouche is my cousin, Mademoiselle Cecile Firmin.”
The footman stepped gracefully outside to hold the reins while Cecile descended and a groom arrived to take charge of the barouche.
*
After meeting the rest of the staff, the ladies took tea in the comfortable yellow parlour to which they had been directed by Duby.
“It is such a grand house!” Cecile said to Maggie quietly. “One never quite expected it to be so vast and well-appointed. I own I feel quite out of place here.”
Maggie nodded. “I feel the same. I imagine it is not easy to feel like one belongs under such tall, moulded ceilings. But we must grow accustomed, Cecile – for this is to be our world now. And we will. I just know it in my very heart than things will work out for the best.”
“To grow accustomed to luxury.” Cecile giggled and leaned back in her chair lightly. “Yes, I think that won’t be too much of a trial.”
Maggie giggled too, letting herself get lost in the levity of the moment, because these were the sorts of moments of which friendships and happy memories were
Hart considered this as Frederick moved across the room to ring for his cloak.
“We cannot both go,” he said at last.
Frederick turned around to give his friend a bewildered look.
“But we must! Already she has a day’s head start.”
“That is correct. But if we both go running heedlessly in pursuit of your sister, then we won’t hear of it if some other news should come in. This is not the time to be hasty.”
“Then you propose we stay here and wait?” Frederick’s expression made it clear what he thought of such a notion.
Hart gave him a patient look, while retrieving his driving gloves from the table. “Not at all. You will remain here in case another runner should come. I shall go to France. I could have my chaise ready within the hour. You, my friend, speak barely a word of French and so could not hope to be of any help in that country.”
Frederick considered arguing before deciding that Hart had always been much better when it came to plotting and strategy, and his advice did seem sound. Hart thought of Maggie as his own sister. And Frederick could not pretend that his French was even remotely passable.
“Very well. I see that I am fated to stay here and wait – you have me brought at Point Non Plus .”
Frederick’s dark expression communicated just how much he hated the thought of staying behind.
“I will find her, and bring her home. I promise,” Hart said in a low voice.
*
The Strathavon house in Paris was magnificent, situated squarely on the fashionable avenue de Richelieu. Maggie could not quite believe it when she first caught sight of the elegant façade. Judging from her expression, neither could Cecile.
They hesitated a moment, unsure how to proceed.
“Well, I expect we had better knock on the door – I wonder if they really are expecting us?” Maggie said at last. She felt nervous about appearing suddenly on the front step of a strange house, without even Lady Strathavon to introduce her to the staff.
“I hope they are. There would have been time enough for them to receive word,” Cecile said, though her voice was a little hesitant.
“Then there is only one thing to do – and it’s no use sitting around here.” Maggie let Cecile hold the horses while she descended the barouche and proceeded to the front door.
She did not allow herself a moment’s hesitation before giving two brisk, precise knocks with the bronze knocker.
A footman opened the door, and a butler arrived swiftly in his wake.
“Good morning, Madame. You must be Madame la Baronne – her ladyship has written us that you are to be our new tenant. I am Duby, the butler,” the man said with the professional efficiency that was such a hallmark of the profession.
“Good morning, Duby. Yes, I am Madame de Gramont, and the lady in the barouche is my cousin, Mademoiselle Cecile Firmin.”
The footman stepped gracefully outside to hold the reins while Cecile descended and a groom arrived to take charge of the barouche.
*
After meeting the rest of the staff, the ladies took tea in the comfortable yellow parlour to which they had been directed by Duby.
“It is such a grand house!” Cecile said to Maggie quietly. “One never quite expected it to be so vast and well-appointed. I own I feel quite out of place here.”
Maggie nodded. “I feel the same. I imagine it is not easy to feel like one belongs under such tall, moulded ceilings. But we must grow accustomed, Cecile – for this is to be our world now. And we will. I just know it in my very heart than things will work out for the best.”
“To grow accustomed to luxury.” Cecile giggled and leaned back in her chair lightly. “Yes, I think that won’t be too much of a trial.”
Maggie giggled too, letting herself get lost in the levity of the moment, because these were the sorts of moments of which friendships and happy memories were
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