Free Anne Barbour by A Dedicated Scoundrel

headquarters with such details as number, speed, and direction of movement, contents of the baggage train, quantity of foodstuffs carried. Being an agent had still been a glorious adventure then.
    When had it all begun to go sour? he wondered. Could he pin-point an hour or a moment? Certainly, the day he had betrayed Paulo Albendondez, a man who had called him friend, must rank as one of the first black moments of his career. Since then, of course, there had been many men—and women—into whose good graces he had wormed himself only to use them to his own ends.
    And now, with the end of the war in sight, he had thought he was done with all that. But no, now it was all beginning again, with the very nice Catherine Meade and her little family. Only now, he was fighting for his very survival, and he could not afford the twinge of conscience that snaked through him at the thought of the ill he was about to do them all. No, he would do what he had to do, just as he had done all his life.
    Turning, he urged Caliban back to Winter’s Keep.
     

 

Chapter Five
     
    Dinner that evening was a convivial affair. Justin had established his ability to maneuver at will about the house, with the aid of his crutch and the ostensible assistance of a footman. Thus, he declared himself available to join the ladies, and lost no time in making himself the life of the party.
    “But, do tell me something of your other neighbors,” he said to Lady Jane over his portion of veal fricandeau. “Squire Wadleigh sounds an excellent landholder, but if he’s the homebody you describe, he cannot be much company. Is there a family with whom you enjoy regular visits’?”
    “Oh, yes,” interposed Mariah. “There are many. The vicar and his wife appear here as regularly as the postman, it seems. And then there are Mr. and Mrs. Woodcombe. They are lovely people, and they have a daughter and son near Catherine’s age.”
    “Ah,” said Justin with an air of interest that was not altogether spurious. Might the son have a romantic interest in Catherine? So far, he had been unable to unearth the slightest hint of a man in her life, with the possible exception of Adam Beech, a fact he found difficult to understand. His hostess was not conventionally beautiful, but many men must find her attractive. More than attractive. Her eyes, green and deep as a jungle pool were by themselves enough to win masculine admiration.
    As though reading his thoughts, Catherine spoke up. “Indeed, the Woodcombes’ attention is very much taken up these days with wedding plans, for both Jonathan and Melisande recently became betrothed. Jonathan is to wed Miss Morival from Shinglehead, a village some twenty miles from here, and Melisande will marry Squire Wadleigh’s son. Both ceremonies will take place this fall.”
    “And Dr. Beech?” Justin spoke the name smoothly, edging it into the conversation like a spoonful of sugar into a teacup. He was not pleased when Catherine smiled widely.
    “Goodness, Adam is a mainstay in our lives. His wife was one of my best friends. She passed away while I was still living in London with my parents, before I—left to return here.”
    “You were raised in Winter’s Keep, then?”
    Lady Jane waved a hand. “Catherine spent a good part of every year here with me until—what was it, ‘97 or ‘98—when my daughter, Matilda, and her husband decided she must spend more time with them. He is a barrister.” Her voice sharpened. “ ‘It was for Catherine’s sake,’ they said. ‘What kind of prospective husband will she meet in this backwater?’ they said.” She clicked her tongue. “It was unfortunate that it was of such importance to Josiah Meade that his daughter make a good match. Matilda had no social ambition—although she did prefer the bright lights of society to rural solitude.”
    Across from him, Justin observed the flush that spread across Miss Meade’s cheeks at her grandmother’s forthright speech. He smiled.