The Bachelor List Read Online Free PDF Page A

vintage but you forgot to mention it earlier?” Prudence suggested. “What could you substitute for tonight that would console him?”
    “I brought up two bottles of a '98 claret that would go particularly well with Mrs. Hudson's chicken fricassee,” Jenkins said. “But I didn't want to mention it to his lordship until I'd discussed it with you.”
    “Forewarned is forearmed,” Constance said with a grimace. “We'll tell him ourselves. We can say that you mentioned it to us.”
    “Thank you, Miss Con.” Jenkins looked visibly relieved. “I believe his lordship is already in the drawing room. I'll bring in the sherry.”
    The sisters moved out of the shadows and crossed the hall to the great double doors that led into the drawing room at the rear of the house. It was a delightful room, its elegance only faintly diminished by the worn carpets on the oak floor, the shabby chintz of the furniture, and the shiny patches on the heavy velvet curtains.
    The long windows stood open onto a wide terrace with a low stone parapet that ran the width of the house and looked over a small, neat flower garden, glistening now with the afternoon's raindrops. The redbrick wall that enclosed the garden glowed rosy and warm beneath the last rays of the evening sun. Beyond the wall the hum of the city buzzed gently.
    Lord Duncan stood before the marble-pillared fireplace, his hands clasped at his back. His evening dress was as always immaculate, his white waistcoat gleaming, the edges of his stiffened shirtfront exquisitely pleated, the high starched collar lifting his rather heavy chin over the white tie. He greeted his daughters with a smile and a courteous bow of his head.
    “Good evening, my dears. I thought I would dine in tonight. Shall we take our sherry on the terrace? It's a lovely evening after the rain this afternoon.”
    “Yes, I got caught in it,” Constance said, kissing her father's cheek before stepping aside so that her sisters could perform the same greeting. “I was drenched when I got to Fortnum's.”
    “Did you have tea?” Arthur Duncan inquired with another benign smile. “Cream cakes, I'm sure.”
    “Oh, Chas had the cream cakes,” Constance said.
    “And Prue,” Chastity exclaimed. “I wasn't alone in indulgence.”
    “Well, you all look quite handsome tonight,” their father observed, moving towards the open windows just as the butler entered the room. Jenkins raised an inquiring eyebrow at Constance.
    “Oh, we ran into Jenkins in the hall,” she said swiftly. “He was concerned because he'd forgotten to mention that Harpers has no more supplies of the wine you wanted him to bring up for tonight.”
    Prudence stepped out onto the terrace beside her father. “He's suggesting a '98 claret,” she said to him. “Mrs. Hudson's chicken fricassee will go very well with it.”
    A pained look crossed Lord Duncan's well-bred countenance. “What a nuisance. It was a particularly fine St. Estephe.” He turned to Jenkins, who was following him with a silver tray bearing decanter and glasses. “I hope you told Harpers to let us have whatever they can lay hands on as soon as possible, Jenkins.”
    “Indeed, my lord, but they were doubtful of finding another supply. It was a small vintage, as I understand it.”
    Lord Duncan took a glass from the tray. He frowned down into a stone urn on the parapet planted with brightly colored petunias. There was a short silence in which everyone but his lordship held their breath. Then he raised his glass to his lips, muttered, “Ah, well, these things are sent to try us, no doubt. So what are you girls planning for this evening?”
    The crisis had been averted. Jenkins moved back into the house and Lord Duncan's daughters breathed again. “We're going to the Beekmans' musical evening,” Chastity informed him. “There's to be an opera singer.”
    “I don't imagine you'll want to escort us, Father?” Constance asked with a touch of mischief.
    “Good God, no! Not my