An Impossible Confession Read Online Free PDF Page A

curtain aside to look at the endless rain. He wore the same mulberry coatand light-gray trousers as before, and he turned quickly to smile at her. ‘Good evening, Mrs Brown.’
    ‘Good evening, my lord.’
    He nodded at the landlord, who was waiting in the doorway. ‘You may serve dinner now.’
    ‘My lord.’
    The door closed and he returned his attention to Helen, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. ‘I trust the notion of dining à deux with me isn’t too disagreeable, but the stagecoach passengers have elected to eat in their rooms, and as you will no doubt have gathered, the reunion dinner is in full rumbustious possession of the main dining room.’
    ‘And threatening to become more rumbustious still before much longer,’ she replied, conscious that this time his lips had indeed touched her bare skin, and that the sensation was far too pleasing for comfort.
    He conducted her to the table and drew out one of the chairs, waiting until she had settled before sitting down himself directly opposite. ‘I’m afraid dinner is a choice of good Cotswold mutton or good Cotswold mutton.’
    ‘It can indeed be very good, sir.’
    ‘So I understand,’ he replied, smiling.
    ‘From which reply I guess you do not hail from these parts.’
    ‘You guess correctly. I’m here at the moment because I’ve been visiting my sister, Lady Bowes-Fenton, in Burford, and I’m now on my way to an important war office meeting in London in the morning. My personal neck of the woods is in Sussex.’
    ‘Wintervale?’ she asked, remembering how he’d introduced himself earlier.
    ‘Yes, do you know it?’
    ‘I’m afraid not, I don’t know Sussex at all.’
    ‘Wintervale is on the edge of the South Downs. It’s an extremely large, extremely ancient estate attached to a small village, and has been owned by the Drummond family since the time of Henry III. To be honest, there are unkind souls who’ve been heard to mutter that Wintervale’s plumbing and general discomfort must have been known personally to that same monarch.’ He smiled.
    ‘You don’t believe in improving, my lord?’
    ‘I happen to like Wintervale as it is. If I require a taste of modern luxury, I take myself to my house in Berkeley Square.’
    ‘The best of both worlds?’
    ‘Indeed so. But enough of me, let’s turn to you. Since you appear to be acquainted with the delights of Cotswold mutton, I imagine you reside somewhere in these hills?’
    ‘Not exactly, I come from Worcestershire,’ she replied honestly.
    ‘Indeed?’ He sat forward with interest. ‘It’s a county I know well, for I have relatives there. I’m sure you must know the Tancreds of Malvern?’
    Abruptly the conversation became awkward for her, because she did indeed know the Tancreds, they were very prominent in Worcestershire affairs, but she could hardly say that to him without inviting further questions about her background. For a moment she could only stare at him, her mind racing, then she smiled and shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid not.’ It was her first fib of the evening.
    ‘I confess I’m surprised, for I’ve been led to believe they have a finger firmly set in every available pie in the county.’
    To her relief the landlord chose that moment to appear with a waiter carrying the dinner. A maid followed with a bottle of wine. When the food had been set on the table and the door closed once more, Lord Drummond poured the wine and glanced appreciatively at their plates. ‘I must say it looks exceeding appetizing, so perhaps mine host’s boasts regarding his table are justified after all.’
    ‘The strip you tore off him earlier was probably warning enough that he’d better not displease you again, my lord.’
    ‘It was no more than he deserved, and probably a good deal less. The same is probably true of your postboy, who promises me that from now on he’ll convey you as carefully and attentively as if you were royalty.’
    She smiled. ‘You evidently have