Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,81
the prayer book, but knew it was not the shortest mealtime prayer in it. And Sebastianʼs instinct was right on the mark, for now the scrutiny upon her was forgotten as covers were removed and the food admired. Footmen circled the table to spoon helpings onto plates, and the conversation moved on. Her eyes met Sebastianʼs—he sat across from her—and she shone a small smile of gratitude at him. That he only nodded gravely at her did not seem very curious; Sebastian was often serious or deep in thought.
Sebastian caught Frannie’s look of relief, but he was determined that he would later get to the bottom of it all. Seeing his cousinʼs reaction to Frannie yet again convinced him more than ever that there was a shared history between the two. The idea vexed him, though he did not know why.
The ladies retired after dinner to the best parlour, where a roaring fire and hot negus awaited. The men lingered at table over port for only a short while, but it was illuminating for Sebastian. He asked the baronet, “Sir, I could not but notice that you seem to have had a previous acquaintance with Miss Baxter?”
His cousin reddened and gripped his glass. “No, sir, but as I said to your mother, she puts me strongly in mind of a previous acquaintance.” He paused. “I should like very much to know her history, if you could see your way to enlightening me.” He shot a furtive glance at Sebastian. “What is her motherʼs name?”
Edward spoke up. “Sheʼs an heiress, sir!”
Sebastian cautioned him with a look.
“An heiress!” said their cousin, rubbing his chin. “Indeed. Who is her father?”
Sebastian cleared his throat. “May I ask, first, sir, the name of the woman she reminds you of?”
The baronet stared at his nephew. “I warrant we should join the ladies,” he said, making a move as if to rise. Sebastian nearly choked on his sip of port. He lowered his glass and, sputtering, cried, “My dear sir! Was this lady’s friendship so loathsome to you that you cannot speak of it? I daresay you appear vexed whenever you see Miss Baxter.”
Sir Hugo sat back with a sigh. “She brings me to mind of a sad chapter of life, sirs.” His broad chest heaved as another sigh escaped him. “ʼTis a chapter I do not wish to open tonight. If you would enlighten me on her family history, however…”
Edward looked at Sebastian expectantly, leaving it to him.
“Her history is obscured by strange circumstances,” Sebastian said. “There is reason to believe she is entitled to a large fortune in the form of a trust, left to her, we believe, by her father.”
Sir Hugoʼs eyes bulged. “What is the name of her father, sir?”
Sebastian hesitated. He pressed his lips together. “That, sir, is the point of obscurity. Her parents were separated when she was quite young, and—”
Sir Hugo exclaimed, “Separated, you say? On what account?”
Sebastian said calmly, “The reason is uncertain.”
“That, sirs, is strange indeed!” He seemed to deliberate upon his next words for a moment. Then, levelling a direct stare upon Sebastian, asked, “How are you acquainted with Miss Baxter?”
Edwardʼs brows rose. He looked to his brother as if he thought, how will you get out of this one?
Sebastian said, “I am shortly to discover all the circumstances of Miss Baxterʼs history that at present seem befuddling. Our solicitor is on the case, I assure you. We have located a relation who will clear any doubts regarding the trust. When ’tis settled, you shall have that history in its entirety.”
Sir Hugo sighed, nodding and lifted his glass to his lips. Draining it, he nodded again and then rose heavily from the table.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The evening was spent at whist. Since the company made an odd number, Frannie volunteered to sit out, and indeed insisted upon it, though both Sebastian and Mrs. Arundell offered to give her place after the first game. Nor would she even join them at the table despite entreaties to the contrary, for she could not ignore the unsettling gaze of the baronet. She determined to remain, as much as was possible, out of his line of sight, having lost count of how many times she chanced to look up to find his eyes upon her. His look was no longer one of alarm, nor did he grow white when he studied her. In fact, he twice attempted a small smile, but Frannie looked hurriedly away both times. She hoped he wasnʼt becoming agreeable