Sylvester: Or the Wicked Uncle by Georgette Heyer

Author:Georgette Heyer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Regency, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780061002571
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1976-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

‘My bringing him to town was not at all approved of, I can assure you,’ responded Ianthe plaintively. ‘But even his guardian can scarcely forbid me to take him to stay with my parents! Mama quite dotes on him, and would have been so grieved if I hadn’t brought him with me!’

She pressed Phoebe’s hand, and floated away, leaving Phoebe a prey to doubt and curiosity.

From the outset Phoebe had been fascinated by her beauty; within a minute of making her acquaintance she had been captivated by her appealing manners, and the charm of a smile that hinted at troubles bravely borne. But Phoebe was a shrewd observer; she was also possessed of strong common-sense; and while the romantic side of her nature responded to the air of tragic mystery which clung about Ianthe the matter-of-fact streak which ran through it relentlessly pointed out to her certain anomalies in what had been disclosed, and compelled her to acknowledge that confidences uttered upon so short an acquaintance were not, perhaps, to be wholly credited.

She was anxious to discover Ianthe’s identity. She now knew her to be a member of the Rayne family, but the family was a large one, and in what degree of relationship to Sylvester Ianthe stood she had no idea. Her grandmother would no doubt be able to enlighten her.

Lady Ingham was well able to enlighten her. ‘Ianthe Rayne?’ she said, as they drove away from Mrs Stour’s house. ‘A pretty creature, isn’t she? Gooseish, of course, but one can’t but pity her. She’s Elvaston’s daughter, and married poor Harry Rayne the year she was brought out. He died before their son was out of short coats. A dreadful business! I fancy they never discovered what ailed him: you would have said there was not a healthier young man alive! Something internal: that’s all I ever heard. Ah, if they had but called in dear Sir Henry Halford!’

‘I knew she had been married to a member of that family, ma’am, but—who was her husband?’

‘Who was he?’ repeated the Dowager. ‘Why, Sylvester’s younger brother, to be sure! His twin-brother, too, which made it worse.’

‘Then the child—Lady Henry’s little boy—?’ Phoebe faltered.

‘Oh, there’s nothing amiss with him that ever I heard!’ replied the Dowager, leaning forward to obtain a clearer view of a milliner’s shop-window as she spoke. ‘My love, I wonder if that chip-straw—no, those pink flowers wouldn’t become you! What were you saying? Oh, Harry’s son! A splendid little fellow, I’m told. I’ve never seen him myself: he lives at Chance.’

‘And he is—I understood Lady Henry to say—the Duke’s ward?’

‘Yes, and his heir as well—not that that is likely to signify! Was Ianthe complaining to you about that business?’ she glanced at Phoebe, and said bluntly: ‘You would be ill-advised to refine too much on what she may have said to you, my love. The truth is that she and Sylvester can never deal together. She fell into a pelter as soon as she found how things were

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