These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

Lavoulère laughed.

‘Voyons, it amuses me, your family! Is there no love between you at all?’

‘Very little.’

‘And yet I have heard that you reared them, those two!’

‘I have no recollection of it,’ said Justin.

‘Come now, Justin, when your mother died you kept a hand on the reins!’ expostulated Davenant.

‘But lightly, my dear. Enough only to make both a little afraid of me; no more.’

‘Lady Fanny is very fond of you.’

‘Yes, I believe she is occasionally,’ agreed Justin calmly.

‘Ah, Miladi Fanny!’ Lavoulère kissed his finger-tips. ‘Behold! How she is ravissante !’

‘Also behold that Hugh wins,’ drawled his Grace. ‘My compliments, Davenant.’ He shifted his position slightly, so that he faced Saint-Vire. ‘Pray how is Madame, your charming wife, dear Comte?’

‘Madame is well, I thank you, m’sieur.’

‘And the Vicomte, your so enchanting son?’

‘Also.’

‘Not here to-night, I think?’ Avon raised his glass, and through it surveyed the room. ‘I am desolated. No doubt you deem him too young for these delights? He is but nineteen, I believe?’

Saint-Vire laid his cards face downwards on the table, and looked angrily up at that handsome, enigmatic countenance.

‘You are most interested in my son, M. le Duc!’

The hazel eyes widened and narrowed again.

‘But how could it be otherwise?’ asked the Duke politely.

Saint-Vire picked up his cards again.

‘He is at Versailles, with his mother,’ he said curtly. ‘My play, Lavoulère?’

Three

Which Tells of a Debt Unpaid

When Davenant returned to the house in the Rue St-Honoré, he found that although Léon had long since come in, and was now in bed, his Grace was still out. Guessing that Avon had gone from Vassaud’s to visit his latest light o’ love, Hugh went into the library to await him. Soon the Duke sauntered in, poured himself out a glass of canary wine, and came to the fire.

‘A most instructive evening. I hope my very dear friend Saint-Vire recovered from the sorrow my early departure must have occasioned him?’

‘I think so,’ smiled Hugh. He rested his head back against the cushions of his chair, and looked at the Duke with rather a puzzled expression on his face. ‘Why do you so hate one another, Justin?’

The straight brows rose.

‘Hate? I? My dear Hugh!’

?

??Very well, if you like it better I will say why does Saint-Vire hate you?’