precisely the same mannerism that Dexter had. Laura’s heart missed a beat at the betraying gesture and she glanced quickly at Miles, but he appeared to be studying one of the portraits of some seventeenth-century Asthall ancestor with intense concentration.
On the threadbare carpet lay Miles’s other gifts—a book of nursery rhymes, a set of tiny carved wooden animals and a doll dressed in pink with a matching bonnet. There was also a new dress for Hattie in crimson brocade, but Laura had insisted on putting that aside for Christmas so that Hattie did not become too ridiculously spoiled. He had also brought some presents for Laura herself—sugared almonds from Gunters and a book she had particularly wanted—and Laura was touched because she knew Miles’s financial state was almost as hopeless as her own but he had insisted that she should not reimburse him.
Hattie had monopolized Miles for the first hour of his visit and Laura thought that he had coped admirably well. It was clear that a part of his mind was elsewhere, though, so whilst Hattie played with the top, Laura drew her cousin to one side.
“Miles?” she prompted, and her cousin straightened up and sighed.
“There is something that I need to talk to you about, Lal,” he said. His gaze was fixed on Hattie and he spoke softly. “We need your help.”
Laura looked at him sharply. She knew that tone, half firm, half apologetic. It meant that she was not going to like what she heard but she was going to have to do it anyway.
She walked over to the carved balustrade that overlooked the great hall below and rested her hands on its smooth wood.
“Lord Liverpool?” she asked quietly. “I always knew that though he said it was ended, that would not be the last of the matter.”
Two years previously she had helped the Home Secretary in return for a free pardon for her role in the Glory Girls. The matter had been hushed up to avoid scandal and Liverpool had assured her that it would never be mentioned again, but Laura had not been naive enough to believe him. And now here was Miles two years later, asking for her help again, and she knew she could not refuse because Liverpool would always have the whip hand with what he knew about her.
“It is only information,” Miles said soothingly. “We need to know anything you can tell us about Warren Sampson. Or rather, Dexter needs to know because this is his case—”
“I have to speak to Dexter? ” The words were out before Laura could help herself.
Both Rachel and Hattie looked up, startled by Laura’s horrified gasp, and Miles stopped, raising his brows. Laura moderated her tone quickly. Her heart was slamming now. “Miles, I have no objection to talking to you about Sampson but why must it be Mr. Anstruther?”
“Why not?” Miles said. “This is Dexter’s case, Laura. I am in Fortune’s Folly on quite another matter.”
“I know,” Laura said bitterly. “Fortune hunting! I saw you practicing your charm on Miss Lister last night.” She lowered her voice still further. “And I hear from servants’ talk this morning that you spent the night with one of the barmaids at the Morris Clown Inn. I don’t approve of you, Miles, and if everyone hears of your rakish ways you will never catch a wife.”
Miles laughed. “We are here to talk about the consequences of your misdemeanors, Lal, not of mine. Now, Dexter is leading this case for Lord Liverpool and I am only here to back him up, so he is the one you must speak to.”
“But I can’t talk to Mr. Anstruther,” Laura protested. She felt panicky and breathless at the thought. “He was the person sent to arrest Glory four years ago,” she argued. “He has never known that she was me. I mean that I was her…Oh, you know what I mean! How will he feel to discover—” She broke off in despair. When Dexter knew the truth he would see her rejection of him as an even more calculated and manipulative act. She could hardly bear the thought.
On the threadbare carpet lay Miles’s other gifts—a book of nursery rhymes, a set of tiny carved wooden animals and a doll dressed in pink with a matching bonnet. There was also a new dress for Hattie in crimson brocade, but Laura had insisted on putting that aside for Christmas so that Hattie did not become too ridiculously spoiled. He had also brought some presents for Laura herself—sugared almonds from Gunters and a book she had particularly wanted—and Laura was touched because she knew Miles’s financial state was almost as hopeless as her own but he had insisted that she should not reimburse him.
Hattie had monopolized Miles for the first hour of his visit and Laura thought that he had coped admirably well. It was clear that a part of his mind was elsewhere, though, so whilst Hattie played with the top, Laura drew her cousin to one side.
“Miles?” she prompted, and her cousin straightened up and sighed.
“There is something that I need to talk to you about, Lal,” he said. His gaze was fixed on Hattie and he spoke softly. “We need your help.”
Laura looked at him sharply. She knew that tone, half firm, half apologetic. It meant that she was not going to like what she heard but she was going to have to do it anyway.
She walked over to the carved balustrade that overlooked the great hall below and rested her hands on its smooth wood.
“Lord Liverpool?” she asked quietly. “I always knew that though he said it was ended, that would not be the last of the matter.”
Two years previously she had helped the Home Secretary in return for a free pardon for her role in the Glory Girls. The matter had been hushed up to avoid scandal and Liverpool had assured her that it would never be mentioned again, but Laura had not been naive enough to believe him. And now here was Miles two years later, asking for her help again, and she knew she could not refuse because Liverpool would always have the whip hand with what he knew about her.
“It is only information,” Miles said soothingly. “We need to know anything you can tell us about Warren Sampson. Or rather, Dexter needs to know because this is his case—”
“I have to speak to Dexter? ” The words were out before Laura could help herself.
Both Rachel and Hattie looked up, startled by Laura’s horrified gasp, and Miles stopped, raising his brows. Laura moderated her tone quickly. Her heart was slamming now. “Miles, I have no objection to talking to you about Sampson but why must it be Mr. Anstruther?”
“Why not?” Miles said. “This is Dexter’s case, Laura. I am in Fortune’s Folly on quite another matter.”
“I know,” Laura said bitterly. “Fortune hunting! I saw you practicing your charm on Miss Lister last night.” She lowered her voice still further. “And I hear from servants’ talk this morning that you spent the night with one of the barmaids at the Morris Clown Inn. I don’t approve of you, Miles, and if everyone hears of your rakish ways you will never catch a wife.”
Miles laughed. “We are here to talk about the consequences of your misdemeanors, Lal, not of mine. Now, Dexter is leading this case for Lord Liverpool and I am only here to back him up, so he is the one you must speak to.”
“But I can’t talk to Mr. Anstruther,” Laura protested. She felt panicky and breathless at the thought. “He was the person sent to arrest Glory four years ago,” she argued. “He has never known that she was me. I mean that I was her…Oh, you know what I mean! How will he feel to discover—” She broke off in despair. When Dexter knew the truth he would see her rejection of him as an even more calculated and manipulative act. She could hardly bear the thought.
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