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  Of course, Jack was not English, and his brother little more so, and it was plain that Charles was also a remarkable man behind his quiet exterior, so she could not take them as true representatives of the English tribe. She could only hope that they would visit her again. She could not resist indulging in a small smile at the sight of Sophie flouncing upstairs in disgust.

  A real live English lord and she had been rude to him!

  Marietta, on the other hand, had not enjoyed herself so much in years. She refused to admit to herself that it was Mr Jack Dilhorne whom she particularly wished to see again.

  The brothers and Charles walked back to the British Envoy’s office along Washington’s filthy and unpaved streets. There had been a fall of rain earlier in the day and the three of them were amused to see the heavy wagons, drawn by mules, struggling in the thick mud. However magnificent Washington was going to be in the future, when its buildings and boulevards were finally completed, at the moment it was a ramshackle and sketchy town. The Capitol, high upon the Hill, dominated everything, as it dominated Washington’s social and political life.

  The dirty streets were crowded with people. Alan had been told that all the Southerners and Southern sympathisers had earlier left in droves once war seemed to be imminent. They had been replaced by a mass of office seekers and entrepreneurs determined to make a good thing out of the coming conflict.

  ‘To say nothing of the military and naval presence,’ Charles said. ‘I like the plain Miss Hope,’ he added reflectively, ‘but I think little of the pretty cousin. She has no regard for others’ feelings.’

  Jack had been thinking this himself, and was saddened by it. He had met Sophie on a number of occasions without Marietta being present, and had been greatly attracted by her looks and charm. She had spoken often and dismissively of Marietta, so he had assumed that she must be an unpleasant, middle-aged harridan, there to guard a high-spirited girl and carrying out her duties with a heavy hand.

  On meeting Marietta, however, he had been surprised to find that the older Miss Hope was comparatively young, and had proved to be a lively and amusing companion. He thought that Sophie’s manner to her verged on the unpleasant, particularly since it seemed to be quite unjustified. He felt, however, duty-bound to defend Sophie, of whom he had previously spoken warmly, when Alan supported Charles in deploring Sophie’s conduct.

  ‘I thought that you liked her,’ he told Alan. ‘She’s usually a charming little thing, and one cannot expect her to be interested in the weighty topics which engage her elders.’

  ‘No, indeed,’ said his brother. ‘But one might expect her not to show her displeasure quite so plainly. She was openly rude to Charles, and to Marietta, more than once. My regard for Miss Marietta led me to try to placate the young miss, even at the expense of losing some good conversation. It is not for me to advise you, Jack, but I should go easy in that direction if I were you. Spoilt young beauties are likely to turn into shrewish women when their looks begin to fade.’

  Charles nodded at this in his thoughtful way, while Jack said easily, ‘I think that you’re both making heavy weather of the poor little thing,’ but when they mounted the steps to the Envoy’s office, he was thoughtful himself.

  It was a good thing for Sophie, he decided, that Marietta was so patient with her. It might encourage her to improve her company manners if she were to follow the sterling example her cousin set.

  He looked forward to seeing them again in the near future. He had promised to support the stall which they were running at the coming Bazaar to raise money for an orphans’ home. He would try to persuade Charles and Alan to accompany him. Hardworking Marietta deserved all the support she could get, what with being the Senator’s right hand and Sophie’s duenna as well.

  He would make sure that he provoked that attractive smile again: when offering it to him, she no longer seemed to be at all plain.

  Chapter Three

  ‘Jack says he’s bound and determined to support me at the Bazaar this afternoon,’ Sophie told Marietta in as patronising a manner as she could. ‘I don’t suppose that you will want to come, will you? Not your sort of thing at all. Aunt Percival and I are perfectly capable of running the stall without you.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ said Marietta coolly. ‘Seeing that I have done the lion’s share of the work needed to gather together enough bric à brac, needlework, bibelots and trinkets to make a good show, I have no intention of being deprived of the pleasure of selling them. Besides, I should like to meet Jack again— I found him a most interesting companion.’

  Sophie’s pout was a minor masterpiece of displeasure.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure that he would like an afternoon when he didn’t have to waste time discussing boring topics with you,’ she said sharply. ‘Besides, if you do come, you will have so much work cut out making change for our customers to spend much time talking to anyone. You know that Aunt Percival and I aren’t very good at sums.’

  ‘In that case, you really will wish me to accompany you—seeing that I will be useful after all.’ Marietta smiled.

  She was beginning to enjoy wrong-footing Sophie, whose spite was becoming unendurable. Aunt Percival had berated her the other evening for ‘allowing Sophie to walk all over you’ and had advised her to stand up for herself a little more. ‘You are doing her no favour by letting her use you as a doormat,’ she had ended, trenchantly for her.

  Well, I wasn’t a doormat this morning, far from it, thought Marietta, looking around the crowded church hall to see whether Jack was present. He had apparently told Sophie that he would arrive early, but it was already four o’clock and there was no sign of him.

  Nor was there any sign of Sophie, either. After two hours of waiting for Jack, she had flounced off to take tea in a back room, telling Aunt Percival to be sure to fetch her if he should suddenly arrive. Aunt Percival’s answer to that, once she had gone, was to remember a sudden necessary errand which she needed to run, leaving Marietta alone in blessed peace at the stall.

  She had just sold an embroidered pocket book to Mrs Senator Clay when she saw Sophie returning with a man in tow. She was chattering animatedly to him, even though he was not the missing Jack. He was someone whom Marietta had once known very well and whom she was surprised to see at this unassuming event.

  ‘Guess who I found?’ bubbled Sophie at Marietta. ‘He says that he knew you long ago when you were young.’

  Marietta looked at the handsome blond man who was bowing to her before offering her a faint smile. ‘I don’t need to guess,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s Avory Grant, isn’t it? I would have known you anywhere.’

  Marietta had not seen him for seven years and those years had changed them both. There were grey streaks in his fair curls and lines on his classically handsome face, even though he was still only in his early thirties. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her.

  ‘You haven’t forgotten me, I see,’ he said quietly, bowing to her.

  ‘No, of course not,’ she told him, smiling at him. He might once have proposed to her and been refused, but that was no reason for them to be uneasy with one another.

  He smiled. ‘And I would have known you, even though you have become handsome after a fashion which must cause heads to turn in your direction these days.’

  ‘Now, Avory, you must not flatter me. You know as well as I that I am past my first youth.’

  He shook his head. ‘I meant what I said. I am delighted to see you again, and to find you looking so well.’

  She did not tell him that he had not changed, for he had, even though he was essentially still the young man who had asked to marry her—something which Sophie did not know.

  ‘I arrived in Washington yesterday and my aunt told me that I would find you here this afternoon—and so Miss Sophie confirmed when I encountered her.’

  Sophie slipped a proprietorial arm through Avory’s, and her smile for Marietta was that of a crocodile hanging on to its prey. ‘Avory and I first met wh
en Pa invited him to dinner this time last year,’ she announced sweetly.

  Avory nodded agreement, adding, ‘I am having a short holiday in Washington, renewing old friendships, before I join the Army of the Potomac—’

  He was not allowed to finish. Sophie exclaimed, ‘Oh, no—do not say so. It is not even certain that there will be a war.’

  ‘Would that that were so,’ he told her indulgently, ‘but I am afraid that war is now inevitable.’ He turned to Marietta. ‘I am sure that the Senator would agree with me. May I compliment you again on your appearance, Marietta—it is as though no years at all have passed since we last had the good fortune to meet.’

  Marietta’s thanks for this compliment were coolly polite but genuine. For the first time in months, nettled by Sophie’s constant criticism of her, and a little on her high ropes because of the Dilhorne party’s open admiration of her, she had dressed herself with some care.

  She was wearing a fashionable green velvet gown decorated with gold buttons and a certain quantity of discreetly placed gilt lace which showed off her glossy chestnut hair to advantage. More to the point, she had abandoned her normally severe coiffure in favour of one which allowed her glorious locks to hang loose a little before they were confined by a black velvet bandeau round her forehead. In the centre of it she had pinned a small topaz brooch. Her mirror had told her how much this unwonted care had improved her appearance.

  Sophie tossed her head a little. Plain Jane had no business to be receiving praise—that was for her. ‘Oh, Marietta always looks the same,’ she said, as though that were some major fault. ‘I suppose that your wife is still recovering from your journey from Grantsville and would find a visit to a Bazaar too exhausting.’

  Marietta threw Sophie a glance so withering that even that careless kitten quailed before it, while Avory, his face shuttered, said in a low voice, ‘My wife died suddenly six months ago—the news has possibly not yet reached you.’

  To save her cousin at least a little face for having forgotten what she must have been told, Marietta said, ‘Sophie has been living in the country until she came to Washington early this spring and consequently would not have been informed of your sad loss.’

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed,’ stammered Sophie. ‘May I offer you my belated condolences, Avory?’

  Despite Marietta’s kind intervention, she shot her a look which was poisonous—but which Avory did not see. He inclined his head towards her and said, ‘You may, indeed. I thank you.’

  He addressed his next remark to Marietta. ‘I should wish to pay you a more formal visit before I leave Washington. I take it that you are still at your old address.’

  ‘Yes, we shall be pleased to see you.’

  Sophie announced in a distracted voice, ‘Oh, look—Charles Stanton has just come in, but Jack isn’t with him. Wherever can he be?’

  Her brief moment of remorse for her thoughtlessness was over, and she was ready to resume her exciting social life. As on the night of the reception at the White House, she waved her hand above her head to attract attention, only this time it was holding her fan, not a bouquet.

  She had already forgiven Charles for having caused her to insult him by not using his proper name, and when he arrived at the stall her pleasure at seeing him was unfeigned because it allowed her to forget her recent gaffe and repair a previous one.

  ‘Oh, m’lord,’ she exclaimed, startling Avory who was about to leave them. ‘How delightful to see you again. But where are your companions? I trust that they have not deserted us.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Charles gravely, including Avory in his bow to her and Marietta. ‘Alan was summoned at short notice to a committee on the Hill and took Jack with him. Since my specialist knowledge was not wanted today, Jack suggested that I come along and assure you that he and his brother would join us before the afternoon is over.’

  ‘We are being remiss,’ said Marietta, trying not to sound as though she were reproaching Sophie, even though she would have liked to. ‘I ought to introduce our new guest to our old one. Mr Stanton, may I present Mr Avory Grant of Grantsville to you? He is one of our most prominent landowners and a strong supporter of the Union cause.’

  ‘Oh, pooh, Marietta,’ said Sophie when the courtesies were over. ‘You might as well explain to Avory that Charles is really Viscount Stanton, or else he will think that my calling him m’lord was a silly mistake.’

  Marietta thought furiously that the only silly mistake was to insist on calling Charles Stanton m’lord when he expressly did not wish to use his title in either his public or private life! Her eyes met Charles’s and she signalled him a rueful apology for Sophie’s bêtise. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

  What Avory made of this by-play was unknown, especially since in order to impress Charles with her image as a universal charmer, Sophie had re-engaged Avory in animated conversation about his home and was assuring him how much she was looking forward to seeing it again.

  Aunt Percival’s arrival back from her errand, and a sudden influx of would-be buyers, ended this ploy. She took one brisk look at the situation, said hail and farewell to Avory, and sent Marietta and Charles to the tea-room, all while bidding an annoyed Sophie to stay behind and do some work for a change.

  Charles’s perfect manners prevented him from making any comment on Sophie’s less-than-perfect ones to Marietta, other than by saying, ‘One has to hope that Jack will have Alan with him if they arrive at the Bazaar while you are busy taking tea with me.’

  This cryptic remark amused Marietta more than a little. She said, as casually as she could, ‘I gather from Jack that you are something of a protégé of his brother.’

  Charles picked up a large muffin and said before attacking it, ‘Yes, indeed. He rescued me from being a backwoods country nobleman, or a soldier, when I wanted to be that odd creature a working engineer. I had a passion for all things mechanical and Alan’s charm and power, working together, were such that he persuaded my father to allow me to indulge that passion.

  ‘Alan Dilhorne is a most remarkable man. How remarkable I did not completely understand until I began to work for him a few years ago. His brother Jack is very like him, but not, I suspect, so severe. Alan can be ruthless—should he so wish—which is not very often. I suspect Jack does not share that with him.’

  Marietta could well believe that Alan was ruthless as well as severe. He had chosen to deceive Mr Lincoln and the officials he had met by presenting them with a picture of an idle and somewhat stupid English gentleman and she was sure that that had been done with a purpose.

  It was pleasant to forget her duty for once and delay returning to the stall in order to talk to a clever and attractive man who seemed to like her company. He was not Jack, but she had to admit that if she had met Charles first… But that was to flatter herself.

  ‘How long do you propose to stay in Washington? I take it that you will be returning to London with Alan.’

  Charles shook his head. ‘No, indeed. I shall send my report on our talks back with him when he leaves, and then I shall travel South to see what new inventions in the shipping line the Confederates are developing. I trust you will not take offence at my visiting your enemy. Great Britain is, I believe, unlikely to become an ally of either side in the coming war, so I shall have carte blanche to travel where I please.’

  Marietta shivered. ‘I have always hoped that civil war would never come, particularly since our family has relatives in the Deep South. It is dreadful to face the fact that friends, brothers and cousins might find themselves on opposite sides—perhaps to meet in battle.’

  ‘Civil wars are the worst of wars,’ said Charles. He pulled out his watch. ‘My patron should be arriving any time now. Do you wish to remain here, or return to the stall?’

  ‘If we all had our druthers—which is Deep South dialect for what we would rather do than what we ought to do—then I would prefer to stay here. But duty says that I ought to be helping Aunt Percival and Sophie to raise as
much money as possible for poor children by selling baubles to rich women—an odd thought, that.’

  ‘Ah, yes, duty,’ murmured Charles. ‘I can see why Alan likes you. He’s great on duty.’

  ‘So, I suspect, is Jack. Is it an Australian trait, I wonder?’

  ‘Perhaps. Many Yankees seem to share it, too. I must do mine and return you to your worthy Aunt Percival.’

  Marietta noticed that he did not mention Sophie although, once they were with her again, Charles’s manners to her were those of the perfect gentleman—which he obviously was, even though Sophie greeted Marietta with, ‘Whatever have you been doing to be away for so long? I have had a wretched time of it. Aunt Percival has left me to sell things and make change while she gossiped with all her old friends—and Jack still hasn’t turned up. If he doesn’t come, it will have been a totally wasted afternoon—I shouldn’t have allowed you and Aunt to persuade me to attend.’

  ‘Now, Sophie, that’s no way to speak to Marietta—even if you are disappointed,’ said Aunt Percival. ‘Console yourself by knowing you have been doing your duty.’

  ‘Oh, that!’ exclaimed Sophie, shrugging her shoulders and rolling her eyes at Charles. ‘Who cares about that? That’s for servants.’

  ‘And English viscounts apparently, by what he said to me in the tea-room,’ Marietta was to tell Aunt Percival later that evening. ‘It’s a good thing that Sophie hasn’t set her sights on Charles—he thoroughly approves of people who do their duty.’

  Now she said nothing, other than, ‘Well, we can all console ourselves with the thought of duty well done, and have our immediate reward for, if I do not mistake matters, Jack and Alan have just arrived.’

  Sophie responded by jumping up and down again and beginning to semaphore in their direction—this time laughing and waving Aunt Percival’s tolled-up sunshade to be sure of attracting them to her side immediately.