Carola Dunn by Mayhemand Miranda Page B

parlour.
    “I’m sorry about Bassett,” he said. “I saw last night you weren’t quite happy about his removing hither.”
    “Oh dear, was it so obvious?”
    “You hid it well. I very much doubt the others noticed, but I made a point of observing your reaction. I trust you don’t hold me responsible? When I asked him to call, I never for a moment expected Aunt Artemis to add him to the household.”
    “With Lady Wiston, it is as well to expect the unexpected. Still, I cannot hold you to blame. Mr. Bassett is a great deal more presentable than many of those she invites to the house on a moment’s whim! I daresay he will make a pleasant addition to our company.”
    Mr. Daviot looked as if that was not quite what he wished to hear, but all he said was, “He’s a good enough fellow. We must hope he is not shocked by my aunt’s whims, or not so much as to show disrespect.”
    Miranda laughed. “That is highly unlikely. He held the Admiral very much in awe, I believe. I doubt he is capable of seeing any fault in Sir Bernard’s widow, even had he no cause for gratitude. He plainly considers himself very much obliged.”
    “His garret was certainly far from a desirable residence,” Mr. Daviot admitted. “I’d a thousand times rather live in an Iroquois long-house. Are you at liberty to assist me this morning?”
    “Certainly. You know Lady Wiston has released me from other duties for that purpose.”
    “I don’t wish you regard it as a duty,” he said roughly, to Miranda’s surprise. “If you prefer not to, I shall make all right with my aunt.”
    “That is not what I meant. I am perfectly content to help you, and certain it will be interesting. I did offer my services, did I not?”
    “Yes.” He grinned ruefully. “After I backed you into a corner. Promise you will tell me if you begin to find it tedious? Today, at least, will not be all transcribing my scrawl. I want to consult you as to the best way to combine information about the customs of the Iroquois with lively incidents, so as not to send my readers to sleep.”
    Lady Wiston and Mr. Bassett came in together just then. Miriam soon found it was indeed pleasant to have a bashfully admiring gentleman about the house. He went off to the Admiralty while she was working with Mr. Daviot, but he made a point of returning to escort her when she took Mudge to the Park. Mudge resigned himself to the lieutenant’s presence, and attacked his ankles no more often than those of the rest of the household.
    Life settled into a new pattern. Mr. Daviot bought a horse, and thereafter devoted somewhat less of his time to his magnum opus . Also, he and Bassett went out on the town now and then, as the state of their thin purses allowed. Nonetheless, the piles of papers in the study continued to grow in a most satisfactory fashion.
    Late one morning, a fortnight after Mr. Bassett’s advent in Portchester Square, he was at the Admiralty as usual. Lady Wiston, above stairs at her lesson with Mr. Sagaranathu, was “not at home” to callers. Mr. Daviot and Miranda were in the study, laughing over one of the misunderstandings which had dogged his early days among the Iroquois when someone knocked on the door.
    Orders had been given that they were not to be disturbed short of an emergency. Miranda jumped up, convinced Lady Wiston must have injured herself attempting some exotic pose.
    “Come in,” she cried, starting for the door.
    It opened to reveal Twitchell. “Beg pardon for interrupting, miss, but....” He stopped and glanced around as impatient footsteps sounded in the passage behind him.
    “She will not deny me!” said an imperious voice.
    Twitchell turned back to Miranda, his shoulders rising a fraction of an inch in an almost imperceptible shrug. “Lord Snell,” he announced.
      

Chapter 8
     
    Godfrey Aloysius Snell, Baron, of Northwaite Hall in Derbyshire, was a tall, fair, well-built gentleman something above thirty years of age. His superbly fitted