The Catherine Howard Conspiracy by Alexandra Walsh

Author:Alexandra Walsh [Walsh, Alexandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781913028244
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2019-03-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

Perdita and Warren left hand-in-hand. Drinks had turned into an impromptu party with Perdita being introduced to the remaining members of the Marquess House staff and the artists who were once more inhabiting the workshops. Had she not felt the constant brooding presence of Warren, it would have been a wonderful evening. Once the crowd created by his dramatic arrival had dispersed, her chilly manner had made it clear to Warren that he was not forgiven. Unmoved, he had walked off, intent on charming the crowd instead. In the end, Perdita was so irritated she had sought Kit out.

“Is it me,” she had muttered as she splashed liberal amounts of gin into their glasses, “or is he behaving as though he owns the place?”

Unable to help himself, Kit had grinned, delighted to see Perdita so angry with Warren. “A bit,” he admitted, aware it might be dangerous to say much more.

“Pompous git,” Perdita had scowled, making Kit snort with laughter. But as she mingled back among the crowd, she was aware that she must stop treating Kit as though he were a substitute for Piper. He’s so easy to talk to, though, she mused. Then, seeing Warren heading in her direction, she made a beeline for Alistair Mackensie in order to avoid her fiancé.

Now, as Perdita collected her computer bag from where she had left it in the Lady Isabel room and slung it over her shoulder, she dropped Warren’s hand.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“Here?”

“No, in my rooms. The party is breaking up, we won’t be missed.”

A few people passed them, calling good night. They replied in kind, then Perdita led the way into the Tudor hall and up the huge staircase.

“This house is amazing,” murmured Warren gazing around. “The art collection is staggering.”

Perdita opened her door and he followed her in.

“Stunning,” he said. “Is that original William Morris wallpaper in the corner? The piece covered in protective Perspex?”

“Yes, it is,” replied Perdita, flicking on a few lamps. As she did, the light over the huge portrait came on. Warren turned to look at it and raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking from the painting to Perdita and back again.

“It’s uncanny,” he said, moving nearer to examine the picture in more detail. “The likeness between the two of you is startling.”

Perdita was not in the mood for his saccharine charms. She stalked into the kitchen where she made two mugs of tea before returning to the sitting room. Warren had fished his glasses from his pocket and was still scrutinising the portrait.

“I think this could be a John de Critz painting,” he said as she sat on the sofa, placing the mugs on the long, low table in front of her. “He was the Serjeant Painter for James I. The clothes are the right era and it’s certainly his style. Who is she? Do you know where Mary bought it?”

“I have no idea who it is and no, there are no records of its provenance,” she snapped. “What’s

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