Back Pengarron Pride
Chapters (35)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Chapter 1
  4. Chapter 2
  5. Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 4
  7. Chapter 5
  8. Chapter 6
  9. Chapter 7
  10. Chapter 8
  11. Chapter 9
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. Chapter 25
  28. Chapter 26
  29. Chapter 27
  30. Chapter 28
  31. Chapter 29
  32. Chapter 30
  33. Chapter 31
  34. The Pengarron Sagas
  35. The Harvey Family Sagas

The two men briefly shook hands and both were about to speak when, on a signal from a footman, the musicians changed tune to the notes of a fanfare and the guests in the suddenly hushed banqueting hall watched Lady Rachael Beswetherick descend the stairs on the arm of her eldest son. Ladies tittered at her appearance behind their fans while all male eyes were upon the lady on Martin’s other arm, Kerensa, Lady Pengarron.

James Mortreath sucked in his breath. ‘Lady Rachael looks radiant tonight,’ he whispered to Oliver, ‘but who is the beautiful child with her and her son?’

Oliver looked from the ridiculous to the beautiful then fixed James Mortreath with a hard stare. ‘That child, Mortreath, is my wife.’

‘Your wife!’

‘And,’ Oliver added, to underline the fact that his wife was no longer a child, ‘the mother of my children.’

‘Children? …I… um…’ James Mortreath’s face turned crimson. He jumped back two paces. He was not unaware of this tall man’s reputation for outbreaks of bad temper, of his arrogance and strong will, and that he was said to be particularly sensitive on matters pertaining to his wife. How could he have possibly known that this auburn-haired vision of beauty, youth and innocence now gliding gracefully towards them was Sir Oliver’s wife? He’d assumed she was one of Ameline’s friends. ‘If… if you’ll excuse me, Sir Oliver, Sir Martin, I… I will go and find out where Miss Ameline has got to.’ James Mortreath retreated like a fox before hounds.

‘Now, now, Oliver,’ Sir Martin bellowed. ‘That was most wicked of you. You’ve frightened the poor man half out of his wits.’

‘Oh dear,’ Oliver said, amused. ‘You know, Martin, this is going to be one of your best parties yet.’ With his handsome head raised and dark eyes twinkling, he held out his hand to claim Kerensa’s.

Ameline Beswetherick thanked her maid and after a final check in the mirror of her own bedchamber she left and hurried towards the stairs. She had two small flights of five steps each to patter down before pacing the long corridor to reach the main staircase down into the banqueting hall.