The Arrangement Read Online Free Page A

as straight as I could and once more tried to breathe slowly and deliberately.
    It would be just like George to say after he was dead what he was afraid to say while he was alive, I thought bitterly.
    “Does George’s wife know anything about Nicky?” I asked Savile abruptly.
    “I have said nothing to Lady Devane about my cousin’s last words to me,” he replied. “She is grieving for her husband and I did not wish to add to her distress.”
    “Well, if George has mentioned Nicky in his will, there is no way you can prevent her from being distressed, my lord,” I said tartly. “Particularly since I must suppose that the money George so generously bequeathed to my son is money that really belongs to his wife!”
    An ironic look came over Savile’s eyes and brows although his mouth remained grave. He said, “The money, I must suppose, will come from George’s private funds, but since those funds originated from the handsome settlement Lady Devane’s father bestowed upon my cousin at the time of his marriage, then what you say is undoubtedly true, Mrs. Saunders.”
    I rested my head against the back of my chair and closed my eyes. “God in heaven, what a spineless creature George was,” I said.
    Silence.
    “Perhaps you have cause to think so,” Savile replied at last.
    I opened my eyes. “I spoke from general observation, my lord, not from personal experience!”
    He nodded, but it was evident that he did not believe me.
    Under the circumstances, I supposed I couldn’t blame him, but this did not make me any the less furious.
    I stood up. “I will sleep on what you have told me and let you know my answer in the morning.”
    “Very well.” He had risen when I did, and now we stood facing each other, with six feet of the faded and frayed rug between us.
    I said as politely as I could, “I will leave you the sherry bottle, my lord, and if you should like a book to read, please choose one from my collection.” I nodded to the two glass-enclosed cabinets along the wall that held my scant but treasured library.
    It was nine o’clock at night. He was probably accustomed to having his dinner at that time. On the other hand, he most likely did not rise until nine in the morning.
    I got out of bed at six.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Saunders,” he replied with beautiful courtesy. “You are very kind.”
    I thought of the inhospitable bedchamber that awaited him and had to acknowledge that he was behaving very well. I don’t know why this should have irritated me, but it did.
    “We must hope that the snow has ended by the morning,” he added. And smiled.
    How to describe Raoul Melville’s smile? Its radiance? Its warmth? Its profound intimacy? All I can say is that its effect on me was much stronger than the sherry I had drunk.
    “Good night, my lord,” I managed to croak.
    “Good night, Mrs. Saunders,” he replied very softly.
    I left the room as quickly as I decently could.
    * * * *
    Nicky was looking out his window when I came into his room to kiss him good night. “It’s still snowing, Mama,” he said, and I went to join him.
    It was indeed still snowing hard. The wind was also blowing as strongly as it had all afternoon; one could hear it moaning in all the chimneys.
    “Whatever am I going to do with the earl if he can’t get away from here tomorrow?” I muttered distractedly as I stared out at the falling snow.
    “I think he’s nice,” Nicky said.
    “You think everyone is nice,” I retorted.
    “Well, Mama, usually everyone is.”
    I put my arm around him and hugged him.
    If I tell you that my son is the sweetest, kindest child who ever lived you will no doubt think that I am prejudiced. But my opinion has been seconded by any number of people who are not related to Nicky. Mr. Ludgate, who is a very lovely man himself, adores Nicky, and has often told me that he would make a very fine clergyman.
    Nicky looked up at me out of blue eyes that were as clear and lucent as the sky on a summer