Not An Ordinary Baronet by G.G.Vandagriff

Author:G.G.Vandagriff
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2018-01-08T16:00:00+00:00

My dear Lady Catherine,

What a pleasure to find your letter waiting upon my return from London. I hope this note finds you well.

I was happy to be reunited with my little family. I have a niece and nephew who are twins, and my widowed sister lives here with them. Since I have been home, they have kept me very busy. We have been engaged in refurbishing the old gardener’s shed as a fort for the twins. My niece is very particular, and she keeps her brother and I bent to the task, despite the cold. We have also built a snowman, written a play (starring Gweet, my niece, of course), and pulled taffy. I am worn down to a shade of the man you knew. It is well-known among my friends that I come to London to recover from the rigors of my life in Oxfordshire!

I pray that you are safe in Somerset and that the smugglers are happy just to have you out of London.

I hope your winter ball goes well.

Yours very truly,

Sir B.

Catherine was charmed by the letter. How unexpected that the Sir Bertie she thought she knew should be so enamored of children. He opened up a pleasant picture in her mind. She had thought him rocklike. That supposition had not kept her from being attracted to him, but this new vision entranced her in a wholly different way. There was a warmth to him that she had never experienced in any man except her father. It was altogether more mysterious in light of Lady Wellingham’s observations about his reserve. What a complex man!

She was engaged in a return letter when the footman announced that she had a caller in the silver sitting room.

William here? Now?

She pinched the bridge of her nose hard. He came to see her alone? What could he possibly have to say? Had he come all the way from London?

She automatically checked her appearance in the hall mirror, but then went on. What did it matter how she looked? It was only William. Catherine entered the silver sitting room. She found her former fiancé leaning casually against the mantel just as though he belonged in Westbury Castle. The sight angered her.

“Lord William? What are you doing in Somerset?”

He straightened and walked across to her, taking both her hands in his. “I have come to see you, Catherine. I have news.”

She managed to disengage herself. “News?” She could not imagine what he meant. She was satisfied that she had shown much progress on becoming immune to his charms.

“Your Gentleman Smuggler?”

She bit her lip. “Oh yes.”

“I heard from the Excise in Dorset. None of the smugglers who are under arrest can give a name to the accomplice who sells their liquor and pays them. They do know he’s a gentleman, though they think he disguises his speech and clothing. He goes by the name of Smith, which is not helpful. The best lead we have is the brandy itself. Sir Herbert Backman says it is Saint Barnabas, which is a rare but coveted brand.

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