The Prince of Ravenscar by Catherine Coulter

Author:Catherine Coulter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-09-21T04:00:00+00:00

37

Richard said easily, “You have known me all my life. Surely you do not believe I would take a torch to the Dower House. Why, Julian and I used to play inside, hiding in the various rooms, shouting taunts and challenges to each other.”

“I wouldn’t have believed you would turn on him, either,” Corinne said.

Julian said, “My mother is right. Given how inseparable we were as boys, how could you possibly believe I killed Lily?”

There was hot silence. Then Sophie sat herself down on the piano stool again and began to play a French ballad, her French accent quite perfect, Julian thought, her voice not very robust but sweet and true.

Richard said, “A man must believe what he sees with his own eyes. I should like a brandy, if you decide to treat me as a guest.” He paused for a moment, then said, “As my father treated you very well, indeed, yet you picked up and came to Ravenscar.”

Sophie said, raising her fingers from the piano keys, “I would like to commend Baron Horsly’s sense of humor. I cannot believe he named his home after his horse, much less his wife. Do you think he really called his wife Raven, Julian?”

“Perhaps.”

“I hope she was charmed and not appalled. Could I please have a glass of champagne, Julian?”

Julian nodded, and rang for Pouffer. After the old man shuffled out, Julian turned to Corinne. “Would you care for something to drink, Mother?”

“Sherry for me, dearest,” Corinne said. “All of it is nasty, but I find sherry the least noxious. After all, Mrs. Coltrak prepares dishes with sherry, so how bad can it be? One must adapt, your father told me. But perhaps champagne would be nicer.” She looked over at Leah, standing close to Richard Langworth, her white hand on his forearm, nearly on her tiptoes, looking up at him, at his mouth, if Corinne wasn’t mistaken. What did he feel for this foul-tempered witch? she wondered.

Julian looked at the assembled company. It appeared that Ravenscar was now to be the new battleground. The kettle would boil merrily here in his home, not at Hardcross Manor, where it more rightfully belonged.

Julian said, “Roxanne? Devlin? What would you like to drink?”

Once there was champagne and filled brandy snifters, each raised a glass, but there were no toasts. There was only tense silence, each eyeing the others, both gentlemen and ladies.

Oh, joy, Roxanne thought, as she sipped her brandy. It was excellent. “Julian, I don’t suppose this is smuggled French brandy?”

He stiffened, she saw it, only a second, no more, and then he was all easy and smiling again, but she was certain. What had bothered him? Smuggling? What was this? She saw Richard was nearly en pointe, and said quickly, smiling, “I always think my brandy must be smuggled, since it tastes so good. Now, Sophie, as you can all see, is a lover of champagne.”

Pouffer didn’t announce dinner for another fifteen minutes, which allowed the party to keep drinking.

Dinner passed off well, with Mrs.

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