Free The Fugitive Heiress by Amanda Scott Page B

looked fresh from the schoolroom. “We call her Chatty,” Maggie went on, “for reasons that will become obvious.”
    “Oh, Maggie, I do not chatter all the time,” retorted the damsel in question with a giggle. Her sister smiled with a fondness that lightened the prim features and made Catheryn think she could come to like her very well.
    “And you know Richard, of course, or I should have introduced him first.” That gentleman bowed. “And these are my cousins, Tom and Cynthia Varling.” A hand waved in the direction of a smiling blond youth with a pretty, if a bit rabbit-faced girl at his side. “Tom has been rusticated from Oxford and is in deep disgrace, as you can see,” Maggie volunteered. General laughter followed this comment but did not seem to dismay young Varling in the least.
    “Takes more than deep disgrace to ruffle our Tom,” noted the gentleman on the settee. “What queers me is why he didn’t manage to talk his way out of the whole shenanigan.”
    “Well, you see,” Tom replied with a sweet smile, “it was the Bagwig’s own nag.” A shout of laughter caused Tiffany and Catheryn to look inquiringly at Maggie.
    “Tom quite forgot to mention that bit before,” she laughed. “He told us only that he and his friends had enticed a horse into the don’s study with a rude note attached to his, that is, to the horse’s tail. The don, oddly enough, took exception and reported them to the Bagwig, but this explains why the Bagwig was so out of reason cross about it!” She went off in another peal of laughter. “But wait, Catheryn,” she gasped when she had herself nearly in hand. “You will let me call you Catheryn?” Catheryn nodded, still grinning. “Well, I thought you would, and I am Maggie, you know, and this, ” with a grand gesture, “is Tony, that is, Captain the Honorable Anthony Varling, late of Wellington’s Army! You remember Tony, don’t you, Tiffany?” she added while Catheryn smiled a greeting.
    Tiffany nodded shyly. “Yes, indeed I do, though it has been some time since last we met. I was but a scrubby brat in the schoolroom, so he may not recall it himself.”
    Blue eyes twinkled up at her from the settee while the captain gallantly kissed her hand. “A schoolroom miss, perhaps, but never scrubby, my lady.”
    “A brat, however, Tony. That cannot be denied.”
    “Nay, Dickon,” laughed Captain Varling, while Lady Tiffany glared at her brother. “I’ll not allow even you to cast slurs on a guest in my father’s house.”
    Catheryn was surprised to hear Dambroke called by a nickname, but she soon learned that the two and Lord Thomas had suffered the slings and arrows of Eton and Oxford together and had remained fast friends despite differing interests afterward. Dambroke had turned to his estates and Varling to the Army, while Lord Thomas was haphazardly hanging out for an heiress. Catheryn listened with amusement while they compared their own pranks with those of Tom and his cronies. Captain Varling quickly emerged as the erstwhile ringleader. He boasted, too, of more recent escapades, which had occurred before his unfortunate mishap. Catheryn realized she was seeing a new side of Dambroke. Relaxed and at his ease, he seemed to have cast off the burden of his responsibilities for a moment in the sheer pleasure of welcoming his friend back to town.
    “You must have been out of reason bored in Sussex, Tony,” declared young Tom suddenly.
    A thin hand ruffled through already tousled blond curls. “I was that,” he admitted. “If it hadn’t been for Dickon’s visits and Colby’s and the governor having the papers sent down from town, I’d have been a candidate for Bedlam. As it was, I amused myself with the antics of Perceval and company.”
    “Didn’t know you were a Conservative,” Colby murmured.
    “Not. Brought up in solid Whiggery, just like you. Thought like everyone else that old Wellesley would turn the trick and Perceval would be out when