Ask Me No Questions (28 page)

"Yes, indeed," said Chandler heartily. "My father was fortunate to find so talented a lady, and is most pleased with the progress she has made. You must come and see the work, cousin." And before Mrs. Witterall could contribute what he guessed would be a remark calculated to depress the artist's "pretensions," he turned to his father and went on, "I fancy the ladies will want to go for a walk after luncheon, sir. Falcon and Morris and I had thought to get up a game of rounders. Can we persuade you to join us? We're counting on you, and I have already promised Jacob you shall captain our side."

Mrs. Witterall looked aghast, but Sir Brian said eagerly, "Have you, by Jove? Then I must not disappoint the young rascal."

"I only hope you may not overtax your strength, dear sir," sighed his cousin, her mournful expression leaving little doubt of his imminent demise. "As for me, I have travelled quite far enough today and have no desire to go outside again. You shall have to go without us, dear Miss Rossiter, for Mrs. Allington will be anxious to return to her work."

Chandler said lightly, "The lady would not dare! She has laboured so hard this past week, that my father has given strict orders she must have a short holiday."

"How very kind you are, Sir Brian," purred Mrs. Witterall. "I am sure your servants must count themselves extreme fortunate to work here. Now do pray tell, Gordon, when is your so dear lady to arrive?"

Amused, Falcon leaned to Gwendolyn Rossiter, and murmured, "And that takes the trick, eh, ma'am?"

Far from amused, she answered, "Confucius said 'the mean man is always full of distress.' I fancy that would apply to females, also."

As usual, her reference to the other side of his heritage irritated him. He grunted, "Do you ever read anything but Chinese philosophy?"

"Oh, yes," she said demurely. "I find Chinese art and history equally fascinating. Did you know that…"

Mrs. Witterall called, "Now I wonder whatever you two charming people can be talking about that leads you to look so grim?"

Falcon said brusquely, "The Chinese water torture, ma'am. I am most eager to put it to the test!"

"Do not heed him," said Katrina, laughing. "Sir Brian would not permit such savageries on his estate, I am very sure, for there is only beauty here. Speaking of which, I have not yet viewed your fresco, sir. Will you permit that Mrs. Allington show it to me?"

Sir Brian said expansively, "My dear, I am only delighted by your interest."

Mrs. Witterall, who considered it appalling that one must be subjected to sitting at the same table with half-castes, pursed her lips and fixed her affronted gaze upon the windows. There was, she thought, no end to nonsensicality in this house.

Ruth's impressions were very different, and when they left the chapel she was only too glad to join the two young ladies on their walk. The coldness in August Falcon's dark blue eyes, the cynical curve of his lips, his often acid remarks, were not qualities shared by his sister, who Ruth found delightful, the more so because she seemed to possess a most affectionate nature, and was not in the least conceited over her beauty. As for Miss Rossiter, the crippled girl's unaffected outspokenness and merry nature made Ruth feel as comfortable with her as though they had been lifelong friends.

The afternoon was becoming rather sultry, a few clouds building on the eastern horizon, and the breeze scarcely stirring the air. Even so, Ruth thoroughly enjoyed their walk, and during the hour that passed she learned a good deal about her companions. It appeared that there was more to the quarrel between Lieutenant Morris and August Falcon than the matter of the forged letter. Having accidentally shot Falcon during an attempted stagecoach robbery, Morris had compounded the felony by tumbling deep into love with the beautiful Katrina, a development that her volatile brother deplored.

"Is nothing new, however," explained Gwendolyn. "August refuses every gentleman who offers. None of them suit him." She added darkly, "Or ever will, I doubt!"

"Good gracious," murmured Ruth turning to Miss Falcon. "I do not mean to pry, ma'am, but—"

"Katrina," the girl corrected. "And if you wonder how many gentlemen have offered for me. Not so many as Gwen would have you believe."

"Pho!" snorted Gwendolyn. "Trina chooses to call twenty and more proposals of marriage 'Not so many!' Would I had received so few!"

"And—were all these gentlemen truly ineligible?" asked Ruth.

Katrina smiled. "Some were. The problem is that I am of mixed blood as you must know, and therefore am considered beyond the pale by most of the
ton
."

"But Katrina is an heiress," put in Gwendolyn. "So August chooses to believe all her suitors are fortune hunters. Nothing could be farther from the truth!"

"Oh, no, you must not judge him so harshly," protested Katrina in her gentle way. "My brother seeks but to protect me, as well you know."

Gwendolyn scowled. "I know that Jamie Morris is no fortune hunter. And I know he is a good man who loves you devotedly. Yet August is determined to force him into that stupid duel, and Lord knows what the end may be!" Katrina looked troubled and turned the conversation to Ruth and her work and her nephew. Ruth answered with caution, but she sensed that their interest in her was genuine, and she was deeply moved when they insisted that now they were friends she must let them help her.

"You shall visit us when you finish your work here," said Gwendolyn. "My papa and my brothers are exceeding well acquainted about Town, and between us all, we will find a perfect situation for you."

"Better we should find her a perfect husband," said

Katrina her eyes mischievous.

Gwendolyn clapped her hands. "What a splendid notion! Only let us have your requirements, Ruth, and we will—Oh! Unless you are already bespoken, of course." Laughing, Ruth said, "No, but—" And then she remembered her "major," and said in confusion, "Well, that is to say—I am—er, rather—er, betrothed."

They stared at her. She felt her face burn, and stumbled her way through an involved explanation concerning the major she had not seen for "some years" and from whom she never heard.

Gwendolyn said in her forthright way, "Good gracious! Do you fear he is dead?"

Belatedly recalling the letter Tummet was supposed to have delivered, Ruth wished the major had never been "born," and was obliged to make unkind allegations about "the dreadful state of the mails" plus the merciless demands of her fiance's military duties. She was sure they were not convinced, and, guilt-ridden by all the fibs she'd told, contrived to turn their attention to the old lighthouse and its changed appearance in the fresco.

When they approached the house, the game of rounders was well under way, footmen and grooms having evidently been commandeered to augment the teams. Chandler, egged on by ear-splitting howls from a small crowd of apparently insane males, was sprinting at amazing speed around an irregular circle marked by hay bales, while Mr. Swinton, also a fine runner, tore after a flying ball.

Entering into the spirit at once, Gwendolyn and Katrina called encouragement. Ruth was also caught up in the general excitement, and when Chandler shot past the last post just ahead of the ball Swinton hurled at him, she squealed enthusiastically and jumped up and down clapping her hands.

Panting, Chandler turned to grin at her triumphantly. He had shed his coat, and she smiled back at him, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, and his long, powerful legs. Recovering from that lapse, she saw Katrina watching her with a rather odd expression. Embarrassed, flustered, quite sure she had betrayed herself, Ruth stammered, "It—er, was splendid, no?"

"Yes," agreed Katrina quietly. "He was."

Gwendolyn exclaimed, "Only look, here comes Lady de Brette. Oh, what a delicious gown!"

Chandler had already seen the approach of his bride to-be, and he hurried to shrug into his coat before going to welcome her.

Turning quickly, Ruth stood rigid, frozen with shock.

The lady who came gracefully across the grass on the arm of a most elegant gentleman wore an off-white Watteau gown trimmed with light blue velvet. She was tall and shapely, with great eyes of a velvety brown, and brown curls charmingly arranged in the new shorter style. Every bit as beautiful as rumour said, she was also the lady who had come to Lingways to purchase the desk and the various other items of furniture; and who had been so very rude and unkind. With an anguished pang, Ruth thought, 'No! Oh, no! She will not make him happy!'

Chandler bowed over the white hand extended to him, then dropped a kiss on the brow of his bride-to-be. "Welcome, welcome," he said. "How lovely you look, ma'am."

"You are hot and dirty," said my lady, poutingly disappointed. "And you have guests arrived before us."

"Yes." He shook hands with her brother and uttered a rank falsehood.

"Very good to see you again, de Brette. Come and meet our friends." He led Nadia to the nearest of these. "May I present Mrs. Allington, our resident artist?"

Ruth curtsied.

Lady Nadia's gaze flickered over her with neither interest nor recognition, and came to rest on August Falcon.

Lord Vincent de Brette was a rather angular man, a decade older and of lesser stature than his regal sister, but with well-cut features and a fine pair of dark eyes. He put up his quizzing glass, and said, "Good God!"

Chandler looked at him sharply.

Ruth held her breath.

" 'Tis the Mandarin!" lisped Lord Vincent all too audibly.

"Oh no!" said Lady Nadia, very much aware of that fact. "Chandler, you surely have not invited the Falcons?"

A muscle rippled in Chandler's jaw. He said quietly, "My dear, I think you must not have heard. This is—"

"Yes, yes. The artist person. How do you do, Mrs.—er… Now,
surely
, Gordon… ?"

Ruth stepped back, but Chandler caught her wrist. "Mrs. Allington," he said, an edge to his voice, "allow me to present Lord Vincent de Brette."

Flushed, Ruth curtsied again.

De Brette waved his quizzing glass airily, and, his amused gaze still on Falcon, said, "Charmed, ma'am."

Indignant, but relieved that she had not been recognized, Ruth slipped away.

"And be dashed if it ain't that fellow Morse who dangles after Miss Falcon," his lordship continued. "And— egad! The Rossiter chit! Gadzooks, Chandler!
What
a collection of oddities you have assembled for our—ah, entertainment!"

Chandler pulled his eyes from Ruth's retreating figure, and drawled, "No, do you think so? I trust our other guests don't share your opinion." De Brette looked at him, and he went on, "But I doubt they will remark upon it. They're well-bred people."

Lord Vincent tittered, and rapped his glass lightly on his sister's arm. "Listen to this, m'dear. I believe we stands rebuked!"

Tearing her fascinated gaze from Falcon's aloof face, my lady encountered so steely a look in Chandler's eyes that she felt a tingle of alarm. She was accustomed to adulation, and had attributed his occasional coolness to the fact that his was not a demonstrative nature. True, he had balked now and then at attending some social function or other, or had refused to bow to her cajolery regarding his reluctance to stay in Town, or her desire to invite certain of her friends to Lac Brillant. Not having much cared about such issues, she had shrugged and thought only that she had not bothered to put forth her best efforts. It had never occurred to her that he might prove difficult to handle. She had him, of course, but this glimpse of steel titillated her, and besides, it was never wise to take chances.

Therefore, she rested her hand on Chandler's arm and summoning her most enchanting smile, said, "Just as we deserve. Faith, but you are very right to rebuke us, dear sir, for we were being rude. Come now, Lord Vincent, we must be kind to my dear Chandler's guests."

She was properly polite to Gwendolyn Rossiter, and echoed her brother's remark that Miss Katrina Falcon was quite cruelly lovely. She smiled upon Morris, and August Falcon was permitted to kiss her hand while her great eyes flirted with him over her fan.

"And now, Lieutenant," said Chandler, "I think you are the only person not acquainted with my future—"

Morris was still seething over Lord Vincent's unfortunate earlier remarks. With a hauteur that astounded Falcon and delighted Katrina, he said, "Assuredly, I am. You ain't a man I'm likely to forget, Fowles."

To have been mistaken for Sir Gilbert Fowles, one of London's most mincing and dandified macaronis, brought a flush to Lord Vincent's pale cheeks. Chandler's mouth twitched, August Falcon chuckled, Katrina's eyes glinted with laughter, and Gwendolyn made no attempt to restrain a broad smile.

"I'd heard you was a funny fellow," snapped his lordship.

"Oh, I don't know," drawled Falcon. "Sometimes he's quite shrewd."

Lady Nadia was deeply fond of her brother. She was also as attracted by Falcon's remarkable looks as she was revolted by his mixed blood. She gave a nervous ripple of laughter and her fan fluttered. "La, sir, but you are naughty to tease my brother so. Ah, here is my dear papa-in-law!"

Delighted to greet his favourite, Sir Brian kissed her hand, bowed to her brother, whom he privately considered an unfortunate encumbrance, and quite missed the tense air about the group. My lady took his arm and enquired with an assumption of interest how the work of restoration progressed. Pleased, he said that she must "come and see."

Chandler made his excuses to his team, Dutch Coachman took his place, and the game resumed as the small party began to wander towards the chapel.

Thorpe, in his role of Jacob, galloped to them, Hercules gamboling at his heels.

"You are sufficiently muddy for three boys," said Sir Brian, amused, "but I think I cannot present—"

He was interrupted by Lady Nadia's squeal as Hercules, finding his god among those present, hurled himself at Chandler.

"Keep it away!" she cried angrily, drawing her skirts close about her. "Oh, 'tis just like that horrid mongrel that attacked me in Covent Garden!"

Chandler scooped up Hercules and tried to avoid having his face washed.