Rosemary Morris’s most recent novel The
Captain and the Countess has received 5* reviews and is available as an e-book
for 77p from www.amazon.co.uk and for $0.99
from https://museituppublishing.com until midnight
on the 17th August.
Exract fromThe Captain and The Countess
London 1706
Edward, the Right Honourable Captain
Howard, dressed in blue and white, which some of the officers in Queen Anne’s
navy favoured, strode into Mrs Radcliffe’s spacious house near St James
Park.
Perkins,
his godmother’s butler, took his hat and cloak. “Madam wants you to join her
immediately.”
Instead
of going upstairs to the rooms his godmother had provided for him during his
spell on half pay—the result of a dispute with a senior officer—Edward entered
the salon. He sighed. When would his sixty-one year old godmother accept that
at the age of twenty-two he was not yet ready to wed?
He
made his way across the elegant, many windowed room through a crowd of
expensively garbed callers.
When
Frances Radcliffe noticed him, she turned to the pretty young lady seated
beside her. “Mistress Martyn, allow me to introduce you to my godson, Captain
Howard.”
Blushes
stained Mistress Martyn’s cheeks as she stood to make her curtsey.
Edward bowed, indifferent to yet another of
his grandmother’s protégées. Conversation ceased. All eyes focussed on the
threshold.
“Lady
Sinclair,” someone murmured.
Edward
turned. He gazed without blinking at the acclaimed beauty, whose sobriquet was ‘The
Fatal Widow’.
The
countess remained in the doorway, her cool blue eyes speculative.
Edward
whistled low. Could her shocking reputation be no more than tittle-tattle? His
artist’s eyes observed her. Rumour did not lie about her Saxon beauty.
Her ladyship was not a slave to fashion. She
did not wear a wig, and her hair was not curled and stiffened with sugar water.
Instead, her flaxen plaits were wound around the crown of her head to form a
coronet. The style suited her. So did the latest Paris
Did
the countess have the devil-may-care attitude gossips attributed to her? If she did, it explained why some respectable
members of society shunned her. Indeed, if Lady Sinclair were not the
granddaughter of his godmother’s deceased friend, she might not be received in
this house.
The
lady’s fair charms did not entirely explain what drew many gallants to her
side. After all, there were several younger beauties present that the gentlemen
did not flock around so avidly.
He
advanced toward the countess, conscious of the sound of his footsteps on the
wooden floor, the muted noise of coaches and drays through the closed windows and,
from the fireplace, the crackle of burning logs which relieved the chill of
early spring.
The
buzz of conversation resumed. Her ladyship scrutinised him. Did she approve of
his appearance? A smile curved her heart-shaped mouth. He repressed his
amusement. Edward suspected the widow’s rosy lips owed more to artifice than
nature.
“How
do you do, sir,” she said when he stood before her. “I think we have not met
previously. Her eyes assessed him dispassionately. My name is Sinclair,
Katherine Sinclair. I dislike formality. You may call me Kate.”
“Captain
Howard at your service, Countess.” Shocked but amused by boldness more suited
to a tavern wench than a great lady, Edward paid homage with a low bow before
he spoke again. “Despite your permission, I am not presumptuous enough to call
you Kate, yet I shall say that had we already met, I would remember you.”
“You
are gallant, sir, but you are young to have achieved so high a rank in Her
Majesty’s navy.”
“An
unexpected promotion earned in battle which the navy did not subsequently
commute.”
“You
are to be congratulated on what, I can only assume, were acts of bravery.”
“Thank
you, Countess.”
The
depths of her ladyship’s sapphire cross and earrings blazed, matching his
sudden fierce desire.
Kate,
some four inches shorter than Edward, looked up at him.
He
leaned forward. The customary greeting of a kiss on her lips lingered longer
than etiquette dictated. Her eyes widened before she permitted him to lead her
across the room to the sopha on which his godmother sat with Mistress Martyn.
With
a hint of amusement in her eyes, Kate regarded Mrs Radcliffe. “My apologies,
madam, I suspect my visit is untimely.”
Her
melodious voice sent shivers up and down his spine, nevertheless, Edward
laughed. Had the countess guessed his godmother, who enjoyed match-making,
wanted him to marry Mistress Martyn? No, he was being too fanciful. How could
she have guessed?
“You
are most welcome, Lady Sinclair. Please
take a seat and partake of a glass of cherry ratafia.” Frances
“Perhaps, milady prefers red viana,”
Edward suggested
“Captain,
you read my mind, sweet wine is not to my taste.”
In
response to the lady’s provocative smile, heat seared his cheeks.
Kate
smoothed the gleaming folds of her turquoise blue silk gown. The lady knew how
to dress to make the utmost of her natural beauty. Her gown and petticoat, not
to mention sleeves and under-sleeves, as well as her bodice and stays, relied
for effect on simple design and fine fabrics. He approved of her ensemble, the
elegance of which did not depend on either a riot of colours or a multitude of
bows and other trimmings. Later, he would sketch her from memory.
Kate
inclined her head to his godmother. “Will you not warn your godson I am
unsound, wild, and a bad influence on the young?”
Edward
gazed into Kate’s eyes. Before his
demise, had her husband banished her to a manor deep in the country? If it was
true, why did he do so?
Kate’s
eyebrows slanted down at the inner corners. She stared back at him. He laughed, raised her hands to his lips and
kissed each in turn. “I look forward to furthering my acquaintance with you.”
“High-handed.”
Kate gurgled with laughter. “Captain, please release me.”
What did he care if she were some ten years
his elder? He wanted to get to know her better. Edward bowed. “Your slightest
wish is my command.”
…. A frozen glimpse of
despair deep in her eyes unsettled Edward. Did he imagine it? He could not
speak. Why should a lady like the countess despair?
