Page 51 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle

‘Oh, you needn’t worry about that. They’re after a title. Your being rather a dull old stick is nothing to the point. Which did you like?’

‘Neither,’ said Giles. ‘Oh, I suppose they were nice enough in their way. But they talked so much, they gave me a headache.’

‘You praised the Sanderton girl for talking.’

‘That was conversation. Theirs was empty chatter, like the noise in an aviary.’

Richard looked at him in alarm. ‘Lord, you do sound in a bad way! I know what the problem is – you haven’t had enough to drink. You hardly downed a glass all evening.’ He looked around. ‘There must be a public house somewhere, where we can get a brandy. Where are we?’

‘Golden Square,’ Giles answered. ‘The Crown is the nearest, but it will be closed.’

Richard gave him a quizzical smile. ‘How so knowledgeable?’

‘My rooms are just over there,’ he said. ‘I sometimes ate in the Crown when I was staying here.’

‘I didn’t know you used to have rooms.’

‘Not “used to”. I still have them,’ Giles said.

‘But you sold all Papa’s London places to save money,’ Richard said, remembering with a pang of guilt that he had promised to raise Mrs Sands’s problem and hadn’t.

Giles threw him a distracted glance. ‘I paid for my rooms out of my own income. And they cost so little, I thought I’d keep them on, in case.’

‘In case?’ Richard queried, raising an eyebrow.

Giles reddened. ‘Why must you make everything sound disreputable? I’m used to coming and going unannounced. One might want to get away on one’s own.’

Richard raised defensive hands. ‘I’ve no quarrel with that, old dear. I merely wondered. Which house is it?’

‘That one. I have the first floor. Nothing grand – just a bedroom and a parlour.’

Richard stared thoughtfully at the neat, brown-brick house with the white trim. ‘Can we go in? I’d like to see. And I’m willing to bet you have a bottle of something up there.’

‘I believe there’s sherry. But it’s very late.’

‘You mean the housekeeper will be in bed?’

‘I have a key,’ he admitted.

Richard grinned. ‘Then there’s no excuse. Show me your secret hideaway, old boy – or I’ll tell.’

Giles smiled. ‘I believe you would. But I don’t mind showing you.’

The rooms, being on the first floor, had the high ceilings and long, lovely windows of the typical Georgian townhouse. There was a handsome fireplace in each room, and the furniture, while old and plain, was solid and decent.

‘This is cosy,’ Richard said, dropping into a chair, while Giles searched the fireside alcove cupboard for bottle and glasses.

‘I always thought so,’ Giles said. ‘It was enough for me, when I was in London, near enough to the university, but not too out-of-the-way.’

‘Gas lighting, I see – most convenient. What do you do for a bath?’

Giles handed him a glass of sherry with a surprised look. ‘There’s a closet behind the bedroom, with a tin bathtub. The girl brings water up and takes it away.’

‘And how did you feed?’

‘Mrs Gateshill, the housekeeper, provides food if you give her notice, but I often ate out.’

Richard looked around appraisingly. ‘And there’s room for a piano.’