The Saint and the Sinner Read Online Free Page A

had once been boys in the village and had sung in the choir.
    The Butler did not ask her name but gave her what she thought was a disdainful glance before he walked across the hall and opened the door to the Morning-Room.
    It was a room that her grandfather had liked because it had a view over the gardens and it was smaller than the grand Salons and therefore easier to keep warm in the winters.
    Pandora waited, but to her surprise the Butler went into the room, leaving her outside.
    She heard him say,
    “There’s a lady to see you, M’Lord.”
    “Another?” a voice answered. “Good God, Dalton, who can it be now?”
    “I’ve no idea, M’Lord.”
    “Another little bee to flutter round the honey pot, I presume. They smell it, that is what they do, Dalton, they smell out the honey, wherever it may be.”
    “As you say, M’Lord.”
    “Well, show her in, but God knows I did not invite her.”
    The Butler returned to Pandora’s side, where she stood, still astonished and a little shocked by what she had heard.
    Too late she wished she had not come, but now there was nothing for it but to obey the almost imperious gesture which the Butler made for her to enter.
    She walked into the room, instinctively straightening her back and lifting her chin a little.
    A quick glance told her that nothing had been changed since her grandfather’s time.
    The three long windows admitted the sunshine and for a moment it dazzled her eyes so that it was hard to find the only occupant of the room.
    Then she saw him.
    He was lounging in a high-backed chair that her grandfather had invariably used, with one leg over the arm, the other stretched out in front of him.
    He held a glass in his hand and for a moment Pandora found it difficult to focus her eyes on his face.
    Then she saw that he was undoubtedly a Chart, with the same pansy-coloured eyes as her own, except for the fact that his were darker and harder, and his eye-brows, which were dark like his hair, almost met across his nose.
    There were fair Charts and dark Charts and the dark ones were those who were dangerous and also adventurous.
    “Your hair’s the wrong colour, that’s what’s wrong about you!” her Nanny had often said when she had done something particularly naughty. “You’re meant to be good with your fair hair, and don’t you forget it!”
    The new Earl was very dark and his hair had an almost Byronesque look to it, an impression that was accentuated by the fact that he had pulled loose his cravat and it hung untidily down the front of his shirt.
    He had been riding, Pandora noticed, for he was not only in riding-breeches but his highly polished boots were covered in dust.
    She stood looking at him, hardly aware that she was staring. Then he said in what was a jeering, mocking voice,
    “Well, who are you and what do you want?”
    Rather belatedly, because she had been so interested in what she saw, Pandora curtseyed.
    “I am your cousin, Pandora Stratton,” she replied, “and I have come here to ask for your help.”
    He looked at her in astonishment although he made no attempt to rise.
    “Pandora Stratton,” he repeated. “And you say you are my cousin?”
    “Not a very close one, but the late Earl was my grandfather.”
    The Earl pushed back his head and laughed.
    “Your grandfather? Well, thank God you are not like him, but I am certainly surprised to see you, Cousin Pandora. I understood I was to be ostracised by all my relations.”
    “Are you?” Pandora enquired. “I did not know.”
    “You must be very out-of-touch,” the Earl replied with a sneer. Then he said: “No, of course! I know! Stratton – you are something to do with that sanctimonious, psalm-singing Bishop who called on me last time I was here.”
    “He is – my uncle.”
    “Then all I can say is that I am sorry for you!”
    “I am rather sorry for myself.”
    He smiled for the first time and it made his face look quite different.
    “I suppose you want to tell me about