These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

Léon interposed one of his knights. He was not taking a very keen interest in the game.

‘I forget, m’sieur.’

Hugh looked across at him shrewdly.

‘You’ve a surprisingly short memory, have you not, my friend?’

Léon peeped at him through his lashes.

‘Yes, m’sieur. It – it is very sad. And away goes your queen. You do not attend.’

‘Do I not? Your knight is forfeit, Léon. You play a monstrous reckless game.’

‘Yes, that is because I like to gamble. Is it true, m’sieur, that you leave us next week?’

Hugh hid a smile at the proprietary ‘us’.

‘Quite true. I am bound for Lyons.’

Léon’s hand hovered uncertainly over the board.

‘I have never been there,’ he said.

‘No? There is time yet.’

‘Oh, but I do not wish to go!’ Léon swooped down upon a hapless pawn, and took it. ‘I have heard that Lyons is a place of many

smells, and not very nice people.’

‘So you won’t go there? Well, perhaps you’re wise. What’s toward?’ Hugh raised his head, listening.

There was some slight commotion without; the next moment a footman flung open the library door, and the Duke came slowly in.

Table, chessboard, and men went flying. Léon had sprung impetuously out of his chair, and had almost flung himself at Avon’s feet, all etiquette and decorum forgotten.

‘Monseigneur, Monseigneur!’

Over his head Avon met Davenant’s eyes.

‘He is mad, of course. I beg you will calm yourself, my Léon.’

Léon gave his hand a last kiss, and rose to his feet.

‘Oh, Monseigneur, I have been miserable!’

‘Now, I should never have suspected Mr Davenant of cruelty to infants,’ remarked his Grace. ‘How are you, Hugh?’ He strolled forward, and just touched Hugh’s outstretched hands with his finger-tips. ‘Léon, signify your delight at seeing me by picking up the chessmen.’ He went to the fire, and stood with his back to it, Hugh beside him.

‘Have you had a pleasant time?’ Hugh asked.

‘A most instructive week. The roads here are remarkable. Allow me to point out to your notice, Léon, that an insignificant pawn lies under that chair. It is never wise to disregard the pawns.’

Hugh looked at him.

‘What may that mean?’ he inquired.

‘It is merely advice, my dear. I should have made an excellent father. My philosophy is almost equal to Chesterfield’s.’

Hugh chuckled.