The Fortune Hunter Page 0,28

mounts, and the gentlemen moved toward the ramshackle old house.

"Good God, Ver," said Harry, "Renfrew'll do the whole place in shades of yellow!" Kevin Renfrew was known for always wearing yellow. He said it brought sunshine into even the dullest day. Verderan's wife, Emily, had christened him the Daffodil Dandy.

"More than likely," said Verderan urbanely. "It should brighten this part of Leicestershire considerably."

They entered the house through a side door into a moldering estate room and passed into the dingy hall. There they encountered Emily Templemore.

Her ready smile was wide and warm. "Oh good," she said. "Guests."

She came to stand by her husband, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Just what we need, yes?" he said. He looked down at her and his friendly smile became something much deeper, which she echoed. "We're three months married and life's becoming tedious. We've only Randal, Sophie, and Renfrew here to amuse us in the evenings." Verderan looked up at the three. "I do hope you have some enlivening activity to share with us."

"Randal's back?" said Harry. "Good."

"We might," said Chart, with a sliding, puckish look at Harry. "Know anything of the de Lacys of Stonycourt?"

Later that night, as they prepared for bed, Harry said to Chart, "I'll thank you to keep your fingers out of my business!"

"So it is your business, is it?" queried Chart. He looked at his clothes. "I don't know why I gave Quincy the month off. My wardrobe is degenerating into rags."

"Pick 'em up," said Harry unsympathetically as he folded his own clothes. "You're not as useless as you make out."

With a smile, Chart obeyed. Hume house was not large, and some rooms were so neglected as to be undesirable, and so Corny was sharing with Kevin Renfrew while Harry and Chart shared this chamber.

As Chart folded his clothes he produced, as if by magic, a soiled rag. "Now, what is this?" he asked of no one in particular. He unfurled it, and it was clearly a lady's shift. He waved it in the manner of a matador with a cape.

Harry made a grab for it. Chart dodged. They tumbled to the floor and soon it was a full-fledged wrestling match.

In the end they cried quits and lay back in exhausted satisfaction. Harry looked for the source of contention and found it torn in two. It seemed a shame.

Chart sat up, arms around knees. "Care to tell me?"

Harry balled the rag up. "It's not what you think."

"What do I think?"

"That Miss de Lacy and I had a pleasant romp while the storm raged."

"I don't think that."

Harry looked at him. "You don't?"

"She didn't have the look of a well-pleasured lady, and you didn't look as bedazzled as I'd expect in such a case. But if you try to tell me that tale again of her skulking out in the barn until the rain stopped, I'll call you a liar."

Harry tossed the ball of cloth into a corner. "She came in for help. She was like a drowned rat and covered head to toe in mud. We had to get her out of those wet clothes."

"Oh-ho!" Chart chortled.

Harry waved a warning fist in his face. "She got herself out of her wet clothes while I saw to that sorry excuse for a horse." He rose and went to put more coal on the fire. "When I came back she was wrapped in a blanket find a couple of towels." He turned to look at his friend. "'Have you ever seen such a beauty?"

"No," said Chart simply.

Harry frowned. "Do you feel at all interested in wooing her?"

Chart got to his feet in amazement. "Wooing her? God, no. I could sit and look at her now and then, as I'd look at a piece of sculpture." He studied his friend in concern. "Not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?"

The moment had come.

Harry had found an opportunity to speak to his cousin Randal and had his feelings confirmed. It was more likely that his parents were downplaying the seriousness of the situation than exaggerating it, and in that case it would undoubtedly be best for him to put their minds at rest by marrying and setting up his nursery.

After meeting Amy de Lacy and spending an evening with Randal and his wife Sophie, and Verderan and Emily, the notion was no longer so intolerable.

The Ashbys and the Templemores were loving couples in very different ways. Randal and Sophie had married in August but it hadn't, as some had hoped, sobered