The Countess by Catherine Coulter

explanation to be given. She was quieter than usual, but she was perfectly

pleasant. I prayed she had written to her father.

Perhaps Lawrence was mistaken. If there was a snobbish bone in Amelia’s body, I

had yet to see it. As for Thomas, he told Miss Crislock about the exciting climb

he and his friends had accomplished just three months before up Ben Nevis in

Scotland.

Amelia said, “I was concerned, naturally, that he would become light-headed with

the increase in altitude, but he did marvelously well, only spraining his little

finger when he grasped a rock and it came loose too quickly. It didn’t impede

his ascent at all.”

“It was very cold on top of Ben Nevis,” Thomas said to Judith. “You could see

your breath, and here it was the middle of August. I’ll tell you we were all

wrapped up to our noses. When we reached the top, one of the lads broke out a

bottle of champagne and we toasted each other. Of course, with my sprained

little finger, it was difficult to hold the glass, but I managed.”

“Did the champagne freeze?” Miss Crislock asked.

“We drank it far too fast for that to happen,” Thomas said. “I choked only once,

but the champagne was very cold, naturally, perhaps too cold for a throat such

as mine.” Thomas then gave us all the most beautiful smile. “Amelia insists that

she always sip the champagne first to see that it isn’t overly chilled.”

I happened to look over at John, who was staring at his brother, his jaw nearly

dropped to his chin. I suppose the brothers really didn’t know each other all

that well since John hadn’t been about much in the past years. “Thomas,” I said,

“I believe Amelia has played a jest on you. She is simply using your throat as

an excuse to drink more than her share of champagne.”

“Is that true, dearest? Are you a tippler?”

“Not yet,” Amelia said.

“Ah,” said Miss Crislock, “I shall never forget the first time Andy had an after-dinner

glass of port with her grandfather. The dear man was so very pleased.”

There was just a small silence before I laughed and took another bite of the

delicious chicken breast roasted in cream and curry sauce.

After dinner, Miss Gillbank took Judith away. Thomas and Amelia were speaking

quietly in the corner, probably about her unexpected nap in that empty room and

what it could possibly mean. John picked up a book on the exploits of some

Frenchman called de Sade. I don’t know why he was reading it, as he certainly

didn’t seem to be getting any pleasure from it. Every time I looked at him, he

seemed to be perfectly appalled.

My husband said, “Andy, would you please join me in the library for a moment?”

I kissed Miss Crislock good night and walked to my husband.

Now was the time he would make his confession, bless him. I couldn’t wait to

hear his excuse about keeping mum about a second wife and a female offspring

only six years removed from her Season in London. I was coming to realize that

there wasn’t all that much difference between younger people and older people.

Lawrence had kept something from me, and now he had to clear the slate and offer

an abject apology. How many times had I done the same thing from the age of

three onward?

There was only one branch of candles lit in the vast library. It was dark and

shadowy and strangely cozy with a healthy fire burning in the fireplace. I

watched him take a turn about the room, walking in and out of the shadows. He

seemed inordinately worried, or perhaps, he was reticent. Did he think I would

rip up at him? I started to relieve his mind when he came back to me, took both

my hands in his, and said, “I suppose you must see me as a miserable man.”

That was a different approach and really quite disarming. “I don’t believe so,”

I said.

“I kept something very important from you.”

“Yes, but I imagine that you will now tell me why, and it will make sense to me,

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