Captain Ingram's Inheritance by Carola Dunn Page B

for the rest of the afternoon. Not until she was changing for dinner did the pair put in an appearance.
     When the knock came upon her dressing-room door, she was in her chemise. Joan draped her Paisley shawl about her before answering the knock.
     Fanny swept in, eyes starry, cheeks flushed, radiant. She flung her arms around Constantia and kissed her. “Bless you, Connie. I can’t thank you enough.”
     “It is all settled?” Constantia grabbed the shawl as it slipped, hugged it around her in an automatic defensive gesture. “I am so very glad. Now you will be my sister.” And Frank would be her brother, or near as fourpence to a groat. He was not going to vanish into the great unknown from which he had appeared. The thought was cheering.
     “Con, you saved my life.” Felix wore a complacent, self-satisfied grin. He, too, kissed his sister’s cheek, then reached for Fanny’s hand and held on to it as if he’d never let it go. “When Frank described you as a ministering angel, I thought he was exaggerating just a trifle, but I see he spoke no more than the truth.”
     Constantia blushed. “Without the captain’s support, I’d not have been so bold.”
     “So you two were plotting together against us, were you?”
     “ For you. Have you told him yet?”
     “Yes; I had to ask his permission to address his sister--after the event, admittedly.”
     They all laughed. Joan smiled in sympathy, but she also glanced at the clock.
     “Come on, Felix,” said Fanny. “We must change for dinner.”
     “I’ll come and help you in a minute, miss,” said the maid, and added in her prim way, “May I be the first to wish you happy?”
     “Thank you, Joan.” Endearingly impulsive, Fanny kissed the abigail. “Don’t tell anyone else, will you, either of you. We’ve decided to wait until Mr Mackintyre has come.”
     She and Felix left. Constantia heaved a satisfied sigh.
      “I do believe his lordship has chose well, my lady,” Joan said, folding the blue shawl and taking up a sea-green dinner gown. “Ever such a nice lady, Miss Ingram is, if a bit free in her ways. But there, it’s a hard life she’s led and no mistake.”
     “I suppose every detail of her life is common knowledge in the housekeeper’s room, if not the servants’ hall,” said Constantia resignedly as the gown was placed carefully over her head. “I cannot imagine how, since they brought no servants.”
     “Not every detail, by no means, my lady. Mr Trevor’s not one to spread gossip.”
     Of course, Felix’s valet was the source, having been with him in Brussels, in lodgings with the Ingrams.
     Joan fastened the darker green satin ribbon beneath Constantia’s breasts, and straightened the falls of Honiton lace that filled the low neckline right up to the throat. Hairbrush in hand, she said casually, “Mr Mackintyre, he’ll be the lawyer?”
     “Is there anything you don’t know?” Constantia had to laugh. So much for secrecy.
     “Lots, my lady. That Mr Taggle, close-mouthed as a miser’s purse he was. All he’d say was he brought good news, with a nod and a wink and broad hints as ‘twas a lawyer sent him after the captain and miss.”
     “Joan, do my parents know so much?”
     “Now, my lady, you ought to know better than that,” said the maid severely. “There’s none of us will carry tales to his lordship or her ladyship.”
     “I beg your pardon. Still, you must not mention to anyone my brother’s and Miss Ingram’s betrothal, if you please.”
     “As you wish, my lady,” Joan agreed with a tolerant glance. “Not that anyone with eyes in their head won’t guess, them smelling of April and May like they do.”
     That was the captain’s phrase. Constantia was suddenly impatient to share her delight with him. “My hair will do very well, thank you, Joan,” she said. “You may go to Miss Ingram.”
     She hurried down to the gallery, but to her disappointment Captain Ingram had already