A Divided Inheritance by Deborah Swift Page B

struck lucky and had ships ready at the right time.’
    When he said ‘struck lucky’, she registered the slight Northern flatness to his vowels, but it only made his voice more appealing.
    ‘Do you wear fur, Miss Elspet?’ he asked.
    ‘I haven’t—’ she began, but Father threw her a pointed look. ‘Oh yes,’ she blurted out, ‘I love fur.’
    And it was true; in the winter her fur-lined cloak was one of her most prized possessions. She loved the softness and warmth of its lining. But she had not had a new one for nigh on three years
and it was rubbed almost bald from wear.
    ‘Then I shall send enough pale coney to your dressmaker for a new winter cloak.’
    She replied, ‘Sir, you are too kind, there is no need—’
    Zachary interrupted her. ‘Cousin Elspet is skilled with the needle. Perhaps she will look to her father’s purse and make her own.’
    ‘Delighted,’ said Father, thankfully overriding them both. ‘You’ll give him the name of your dressmaker, won’t you, Elspet?’
    ‘Of course,’ she said, thinking to herself that she hadn’t been near Taylor’s shop for almost a twelvemonth and he would be mightily surprised to see her there after all
this time.
    Aware of Zachary’s glances, she tried to fix him with a look which would deter him from giving Mr Bradstone any further humiliating details about her circumstances.
    So the food was served, and her choice of dishes went down exceedingly well, though Zachary was always first to the plate again, notwithstanding they were entertaining. She tried to eat
daintily, as her father had suggested, which was easier than usual, as her stomach was so fluttery she could barely touch a bite.
    Taking courage, she asked Mr Bradstone, ‘Are you often in town?’
    At the same time Zachary enquired, ‘Do you fence?’ But Zachary’s voice was the louder.
    She hung on Mr Bradstone’s answer.
    ‘Passably well,’ he said, pausing to chew. ‘These days I carry a powder weapon for my own safety as well as a rapier. My days of fighting for the cause are over, however. I am
concentrating on business now. And, you know, on board ship I’ve found it is as well to have a gun rather than a sword – such a confined space, you see.’
    ‘What sort? I mean, who made it?’ Zachary asked, leaning forward.
    ‘I left them in the hall. They’re a pair of Mitchison’s pistols, from Goldsmith’s Row. Nice walnut stocks. Actually, I’m quite pleased with them. You can come and
take a look after dinner. What about you?’
    ‘Zachary has a fine collection of swords, I’ve never seen so many . . .’ Too late she realized her mistake and shut her mouth abruptly.
    ‘Yes, you had a very good look at all my possessions.’ Zachary spoke in a low and level voice.
    ‘Is that so? What do you mean?’ Father asked, obviously sensing something odd.
    She pressed the backs of her hands to her face, now uncomfortably hot.
    ‘Oh nothing,’ Zachary said airily. ‘Elspet and I were just getting acquainted.’
    ‘It was a misunderstanding, Father,’ she said miserably.
    Father frowned and gave her a look she recognized as his ‘I am ashamed of you’ expression.
    During this little interchange Mr Bradstone had been casting his eyes from one to the other of them with puzzlement. There was an awkward silence. Zachary raised his eyebrows at her.
    Mr Bradstone was the soul of tact for, seeing her discomfiture, he changed the subject. ‘This is a splendid house. How many chambers have you here, Mr Leviston?’
    ‘Oh, there are a dozen,’ Father replied with relief. ‘Of course. I should have thought. You will want to see all that. I’ll take you around afterwards. Zachary can keep
Elspet company whilst I give you a tour.’
    ‘I’ll come with you, Father,’ she said, hurriedly.
    She must steer Mr Bradstone away from the upper chamber where the panelling had been eaten by the worm, and have him look at the fine portrait of her mother rather than the disintegrating