Langthorne's Honour by Miriam Rochester

Author:Miriam Rochester
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2014-12-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Tristram visits Levisham Park

The afternoon practising target archery had gone well. Helene had shown quite an aptitude for the sport and had enjoyed it. More importantly, Alastair believed that she had become more accepting of the situation and was more comfortable in his company. The evening meal was a relaxed affair and Helene had a healthier appetite. They spent most of the time discussing the afternoon and which one of them was the best shot, and Alastair admitted that he would have to be careful, or Helene would soon be able to beat him every time. The competition had been the subject of some light banter during dinner and Helene was quite animated.

The last course had just been removed when the company heard a commotion in the hall. Alastair was immediately on the alert and everyone raised their head to listen. The butler was obviously remonstrating with someone at the door. Alastair wondered who could be calling this late in the day.

Symond’s harassed words came to his ear. ‘You cannot just march in, sir! If you remain here, I will inform his Grace that you have arrived.’

A vaguely familiar voice made an impatient reply. ‘Nonsense Symonds, since when have I needed an introduction into this house? Where is he? In the drawing-room?’

Alastair heard his butler’s harassed reply. ‘I protest, sir. His Grace is dining in company and I cannot just allow you to saunter in.’

Tristram pushed the elderly butler aside so that he stumbled and almost fell. ‘For goodness sake Symonds, you know perfectly well who I am. Do not be ridiculous!’

The elderly butler did his utmost to discourage him, but Tristram ignored him and strode across to the dining room door. Symonds followed at his heels disconcerted and remonstrating all the way, but to no avail.

Alastair by this time had risen out of his seat and was making his way towards the hall to investigate the disturbance when Sir Tristram Langthorne burst in. The two cousins stood facing one another. They had not met in years, but they immediately recognised one another.

They had the same dark hair, emerald green eyes and the straight well defined Langthorne nose. Tristram, at six feet one inch, was two inches shorter than Alastair, but he was a little broader. Unlike his Corinthian cousin, whose dress was elegant, stylish and conservative, Tristram dressed very much the dandy. His close fitting jacket of blue superfine and his flowery waistcoat were expertly cut by Schultz and moulded to his powerful frame perfectly. To add to his consequence, he adorned himself with diamond pins, fobs and seals and carried an ebony cane with an elaborate filigree silver head. Anyone meeting him for the first time would have described him as a fop, but it would be a mistake to believe him so, for here stood a powerful and very dangerous man.

Symonds followed in Tristram’s wake. ‘I am so sorry, your Grace. I was unable to stop him.’ Alastair gave the butler a reassuring nod. ‘Do not agitate yourself, Symonds.

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