Page 41 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle

‘You make for him, don’t you?’

‘His Majesty has been a valued client of the company for many years,’ Batty affirmed, ‘though of course Mr Cundey attends to him personally. But I have been privileged to work on royal garments from time to time.’

‘And now we have the coronation to look forward to,’ Richard mentioned. It had been fixed for the 26th of June.

‘Yes, sir. His majesty will no doubt ensure it is very sumptuous, in every way. The lapel, sir – are you satisfied with it?’

‘If you’re satisfied, I’m satisfied,’ said Richard, happy that he had turned Batty’s thoughts far from the late earl’s account. ‘Are the sleeves a trifle long, should you say?’

Stepping out onto Savile Row a while later, he stopped to light a fresh cigarillo. It was a pleasant day, dry, with fast-scudding clouds and gleams of sunshine. He consulted his pocket-watch, and decided to stroll back to Aunt Caroline’s. He had no luncheon engagement, and though no-one would be at home, there was always grub available.

When he turned into Berkeley Square, he did not pay attention to the two female figures standing on the pavement outside his aunt’s house, apparently engaged in some discussion. But as he reached the steps, they looked at him, and his hand rose automatically to his hat.

The gesture seemed to reassure the elder of the two, for she smiled a troubled, hesitant smile, and said, ‘I beg your pardon, sir—’

He stopped, thinking she was going to ask for directions. She seemed to be a woman in her forties, extremely good-looking still, and dressed neatly, though not in the first style. The other was a young woman of perhaps eighteen or nineteen, and she was quite unusually beautiful, with golden hair and blue eyes and soft lips that he would wager had never yet been kissed. He glanced at her appreciatively.

‘May I speak to you for a moment?’ the elder woman said.

It wasn’t the first time he had been accosted in the street by a strange female. However, their clothes and manner were not those of a lady of the night and her keeper, though now he looked more closely, there was something a little worn about them, as though they had fallen on hard times. He was intrigued, but wary.

‘I believe I have not had the pleasure … ?’ he said cautiously.

The woman coloured slightly. ‘We have not been introduced, but I believe I know who you are. Are you not Lord Stainton’s son? You have very much the look of him, and I understand he is staying in this house at the moment.’

‘You knew my father?’

She looked more than ever troubled, and her confusion reassured him: this was not the bold approach of someone out to diddle him. ‘I— Yes. You – are you Lord Stainton?’ she managed.

‘I’m his brother,’ he said. ‘Richard Tallant. Is there something I can do for you?’

‘I am Mrs Sands, and this is my daughter, Chloë. It – it is not to be supposed that you ever heard of us, but I did know your father. Oh, this is very difficult! A matter of great delicacy.’

He began to have a horrid suspicion. ‘Then you had better come in.’

‘It was your brother I really wanted to speak to.’

‘He’s out. Everyone’s out,’ Richard said. ‘Perhaps you can tell me what it is you want. I’m very discreet, I promise you. And there’ll be no-one else around to embarrass you.’

‘You are very kind. Yes, I am embarrassed,’ she admitted. ‘But I think a mistake has been made, and I am forced to see if I can rectify – that is, I can no longer … If I could explain …’

Richard held up his hand. ‘Inside,’ he said. ‘Not here.’

The butler was evidently putting his feet up somewhere, for it was a footman who came into the hall, and looked surprised at the incursion – a surprise that only increased when Richard said, ‘I am taking my guests up to the drawing-room. I’ll ring if I want anything.’

In the drawing-room, he apologised for the lack of a fire and bade them sit. He said, ‘Please won’t you tell me plainly what it is you want? I am much more approachable than my brother. How did you know my father?’ Mrs Sands seemed even more wretched, studying the carpet. He added gently, ‘Or can I guess?’

She looked up and sighed. ‘I suppose you can. I am a very private person, Mr Tallant. I lived in the shadows and was content to do so. I would never, never have approached any member of the family, I swear to you, if it hadn’t been that I am sure there must have been a mistake. He would never have left me in such difficulties.’

‘You were my father’s mistress,’ Richard said.

She straightened her back. ‘I was,’ she said, with a touch of defiance. ‘I am sorry if it shocks you—’

‘It doesn’t shock me. I know what my father was. And it’s the sort of thing that happens all the time. I would have been more surprised if my father didn’t have mistresses.’

She seemed not to like that. There was a touch of reproach in her voice as she said, ‘Ours was a loving relationship, Mr Tallant. After such a long time, we had passed into calmer waters. We were almost like an old married couple.’ She seemed to realise that was not tactful. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking like this to you.’

Richard raised a hand. ‘Don’t apologise. You can be frank with me – I shan’t be offended. My father and I weren’t close, and I’ve been abroad for many years. You must feel his death more than me.’