THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER SEVEN

                   CHAPTER SEVEN

Frederick Granville sat pensively in his study in his house in Hanover Square, London when the door opened and his house steward entered.

    ‘A visitor has come, Mr Granville, sir.’

    ‘Damn you, Snipe! My instructions on no visitors still stand. I am not at home to anyone.’

    ‘Yes, sir, but this visitor refused to accept that, sir,’ the steward said stoically. ‘She fair barged her way in. I could not prevent it unless I laid hands on her, sir.’

    Granville frowned. ‘She?’

    ‘Mrs Vallentine, sir.’

    ‘I see.’ Granville heaved a deep sigh. ‘Where is she?’

    ‘I have put her in the drawing room, sir.’

    Granville rose to his feet. ‘I will see her directly.’

    The steward started to withdraw.

    ‘Oh Snipe,’ Granville said. ‘You had best bring some tea to the drawing room.’

    ‘Very good, sir,’

    Granville stood for a moment before the fireplace, reflecting. It had been six weeks or more since Eleanor Wellesley had attacked him. He had not been in public since and repelled all visitors, conscious of the vivid scar on his face. Eleanor had marked him for life and she would pay dearly.

    He knew he must return to society eventually, but he wished it was not a woman who would be the first person to see him.

    With a squaring of his shoulders he left the sanctuary of his study and crossed the hall to the drawing room.

    As he entered he saw Sophie Vallentine preening herself before the mirror over the fireplace. He winced. He avoided all mirrors now.

    ‘To what do I owe this call?’ he began.

    She whirled away from the mirror to gaze at him.

    ‘Freddie! I hardly know you.’

    ‘What do you mean?’ Hastily he lifted a hand to cover the injured side of his face.

    ‘Your garb.’ She shook her head. ‘I have never seen you wear black before. Where is the dandy I once knew?’

    He lowered his hand so that she might see his face clearly.

    ‘Feast your eyes on this!’ he said bitterly. ‘It would appear incongruous, indeed, if I were to still court fashion with such a visage.’

    She came closer to inspect him, and it was all he could do not to withdraw from her gaze.

    ‘It is livid now, but it will fade, you know, Freddie,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Indeed, it gives you an air of mystery; the face of a pirate king, perhaps. The women will love it.’

    ‘For God’s sake, Sophie,’ he cried out. ‘I am a marked man for life.’

    ‘Only if you allow it to conquer you.’

    At that moment Snipe entered with a tray of tea and edibles. He put it on the table nearby and was about to serve when Sophie Vallentine spoke.

    ‘It’s all right, Snipe,’ she said. ‘I will serve.’

    With a bow the man withdrew. Sophie sat down near the table and began to pour the tea.

    ‘Why are you here, Sophie?’ Granville asked as he accepted the cup of tea and retreated to stand before the fireplace; his back turned deliberately to the mirror.