Lady in the Stray (21 page)

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Authors: Maggie MacKeever

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BOOK: Lady in the Stray
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So now she was accused of cowardice? “Thank you!” Vashti said.

“You are very welcome
!”
Minette was oblivious to sarcasm, so deep was she in thought.
“Enfin,
I have hit upon a solution to our little problem. I shall pretend to be Edouard, because I see it is a prudent thing if he is observed to leave Mountjoy House. For his failure to return, there will be good excuse; I shall say I decided I did not wish to be betrothed to him, and sent him to away. He would not return to us under those circumstances,
naturellement.
And no one would be surprised that I did not wish to marry such a
vipère!”
She beamed.

Vashti was less enthusiastic. “How will you pass yourself off as Edouard?”

Minette was very impressed by her own inventiveness. “It is of a simplicity! I shall wear his clothes.”

At thought of stripping a corpse of its apparel, Vashti shuddered anew. “The blood!” she gasped.

“Perhaps you have a better suggestion?” Minette irritably inquired. “You can be
très
tiresome, Vashti!”

“Tiresome!” Vashti’s own temper sparked.
“I
am not the one who betroths myself to one gentleman when I want another, and goes sneaking about in search of what isn’t mine! Had you found it, you would have stolen Marmaduke’s treasure from right beneath my nose. And you need not think I’m unaware that certain items are missing from this house!”

“You call me a thief?” Minette stood with hands on her plump little hips, highly incensed. “If I had not sold off those certain items, there would have been no money to reopen the gaming rooms. But I suppose I shouldn’t expect gratitude for the efforts I have made in your behalf.”

“No, you shouldn’t!” retorted Vashti. “In my behalf, my foot! It was your own pockets you set out to line.”

In all fairness, Minette could not dispute this allegation. “I meant it for the best. If you wish to have me up for thievery, it is your right.”

Vashti’s irritation was not soothed by this sudden capitulation. “Don’t be a goose-cap! Of course I don’t mean to do anything of the sort. But you must not accuse
me
of being tiresome, you know!”

In Charlot’s opinion, both his companions were tiresome. Without appreciation, he watched them embrace, a conciliation somewhat impeded by Mohammed, who was delighted by this opportunity to lavish affection upon two faces at once. “Who
does
Minette wish to be betrothed to?” Charlot inquired.

“Why, Lionel, of course!” With the sleeve of her dressing gown, Vashti dried her dog-damp cheeks.

“Scant chance I have of that,” mourned Minette, fending off the affectionate hound. “When Lionel discovers what I have been up to, he will never speak to me again! And if he does, it will be to scold me even more severely than you have done, Vashti!”

“My dear!” Vashti was stricken with remorse. “I didn’t mean the things I said!”

Minette was not so easily soothed. “Lionel
will
mean it! I am destined to wear the willow,
hélas.”

“If you don’t hang first!” remarked Charlot, his patience at an end. “May I remind the pair of you that we must dispose of a corpse?”

In this guilt-fraught moment, there came a tapping at the door. Before permission could be granted, Orphanstrange sidled into the room. Recent events had not sat well upon the valet. There was extreme nervousness in his every movement, and a frantic wildness to his eye. “We are undone! Lord Stirling and Mr. Heath are belowstairs!” he gasped. “Demanding to speak with Miss Vashti!”

“Stirling!” Vashti leapt up, causing Mohammed to tumble off her lap and land with a whoof upon the floor. “I cannot see him! He will take one look at me and
know!”

Despite their peril, Minette giggled. “Does Stirling see you in your dressing gown, he will not think of memorandums and the like,
chérie!
Perhaps it would be a good thing—”

“Moonshine!” Charlot was busy at one of the bookcases that lined the walls. “You can’t go running through the halls like that, Vashti! Here!” One section of the shelves swung open to reveal a passageway. He pushed his sister within and swung the panel shut.

When Lord Stirling and Lionel Heath entered the library scant moments later, they discovered Minette and Charlot calmly sipping port. Lionel glanced at Minette, and quickly away. Lord Stirling’s gaze fell upon a third, half-filled wine glass. “We require a word with Mademoiselle Beaufils. Where is she?” he demanded.

“Bonjour,
Stirling, M’sieur Heath.” Minette summoned forth every smidgeon of composure and charm at her command. Stirling was looking excessively
formidable,
she thought. As for Lionel—there was no use crying over spilt milk. “I regret to inform you that Mademoiselle Beaufils is indisposed. You will have to content yourselves with our company. What is this so-urgent matter that brings you to us? Have you come to make yet another attempt on the faro bank? But I forget my manners! Pray be seated.”

Lionel did so, choosing a seat as far away as possible from Minette and very nearly inflicting mortal damage upon Greensleeves, who had been snoozing in the green chair. Lionel started. Minette giggled. The solicitor cast her a reproachful glance.

Immediately, Minette grasped her opportunity. “I am
not
betrothed to Edouard!” she said.

“You’re not betrothed?” echoed Lionel, bewildered. “But everyone said—”

“Ma foi!
You should not listen to ‘everyone,’
mon cher,
but instead attend to me.” For Lord Stirling’s benefit, Minette added: “Vashti has taken a chill!”

“What has Vashti’s health to do with whether or not you are betrothed?” Lionel inquired, further perplexed.

“A chill? In this weather?” His lordship’s skepticism was not unfounded; the past several days had been very warm.

“The weather is not of a significance,” Minette said absentmindedly, her green gaze firmly focused on the puzzled Lionel. “It was caused by a damp towel. As for Edouard—”

Charlot was not of the persuasion that children should be seen and not heard. “Perhaps you should tell
me
what you want with Vashti, Lord Stirling— because I can’t approve of all this cuddling, and plaguing my sister half to death!”

Yves elevated his brows. “Are you asking my intentions, bantling?”

His lordship looked thunderous, thought Charlot. “Yes, sir. Since it seems clear to me that someone must.”

More stalwart souls than Charlot had quailed before Lord Stirling’s anger; even Minette cast Charlot a cautionary glance. Fortunately, his lordship decided to be amused.

“I don’t know what my intentions are regarding your sister,” Yves admitted when he had recovered from his paroxysms of mirth. “There is the matter of a certain memorandum to be resolved. I have just come from a meeting with my godpapa—”

“It was the memorandum that Edouard wanted, not me—for which I thank
le bon dieu!”
Assured that Lord Stirling would inflict no bodily harm upon Charlot, Minette returned to her own attack.

Assuredly, I never wished to be betrothed to him.”

Lionel was determined not to be hoodwinked a second time. “Hah!” he said.

“It is true, I assure you!” protested Minette. “You will see! Edouard will plague me no more.”

Lest Minette go on to explain further the detestable Edouard’s reformation, Charlot interrupted. “It is
you
Minette wishes to be betrothed to, Mr. Heath! Now can we get back to the memorandum?”

Lord Stirling, during this conversation, had fallen into contemplation of the library steps where he first kissed Vashti. “Additional information concerning the memorandum has recently come to light—What the devil is that dog about?”

Indeed, Mohammed’s behavior
was
noteworthy; the hound was sniffing at the bookshelves, and whining, and in general acting very odd. To no avail, Charlot whistled and called his pet. “Pay Mohammed no mind, sir!” he said as he tried to drag the dog away. “He is merely—”

Abruptly a section of the shelves swung open, causing Charlot and Mohammed to tumble in a tangle on the floor. Through the opening stumbled Vashti, clutching her jaw. “Edouard
isn’t
dead!” she cried, and collapsed.

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

 

“Dead?” echoed Lionel, and fixed Minette with a stem glance. They were alone in the library, Charlot having gone to investigate the secret chamber, and Lord Stirling having borne the swooning Vashti off to her own room. “I would appreciate it very much if you would explain!”

“But of course you would,
mon cher!”
To fortify herself for the ordeal, Minette essayed another glass of port. “I meant always to explain to you,
vraiment,
once we were again on speaking terms. You became very unapproachable once you heard I was betrothed, M’sieur Heath. And it is of a large difficulty to exchange confidences
à
la distance!”

Lionel turned his back on her reproachful face. “Now is your opportunity.”

He had taken her in disgust, Minette thought sadly, else he would not prefer to gaze upon a chimneypiece inspired by dreary old tombs. “I do not know where I should begin! Edouard is a
vipère.
I never wished to betroth myself to him, but he noticed my interest in you, and issued threats. If he knew I had confided in you about the memorandum—” Her voice trailed off.

“Blast the memorandum!” said Lionel, to the chimneypiece. “Why did you think he was dead?”

“Because Charlot said—and there was so much blood—we were in such a great hurry to hide him away, it did not occur to me that he still might live.” Minette wore a darkling look. “Which is probably a very good thing! I don’t know what I would have done, so angry was I—not that I am in the habit of feeling fit to murder someone,
mon cher!”

“I may murder
you
if you don’t cease to try to hoodwink me.” Lionel swung round to bestow a very severe look upon Minette. “You’ve been playing a deep game. I’ll have the truth now—and no more whiskers!”

“You are angry with me.” Minette contemplated her wine glass. “I understand. I am no better than one of the wicked and it is no more than I deserve, that you should hold me in very low esteem.” Through her long lashes, she glanced hopefully at the solicitor.

He did not reassure her. “Gammon! The truth, Minette.”

She drained her wineglass, set it aside. “I did not like Edouard,” Minette said plaintively, “even if he was the only family I have left. It was not so bad when Marmaduke was alive, because he forbade Edouard the house—Marmaduke wasn’t so much of a loose screw that he failed to realize Edouard was a curst rum touch. But after Marmaduke’s death, Edouard commenced to plague me. He wanted the memorandum that he believed hidden in this house.
Mon dieu,
how he wanted it! He even promised to take me in triumph with him back to France.”

“And you could not resist his offer.” Casually, Lionel inspected “his sleeve.

“Voyons!”
retorted Minette, indignantly. “I could resist it very well. But Edouard has unpleasant ways of revenging himself. I thought it prudent to pretend to believe his taradiddles. Had I truly been taken in by Edouard, I would hardly have told you about him!”

“Perhaps.” Lionel was cool. “You needn’t look at me with those great sad eyes; I won’t be so easily cozened another time! You’ve told me nothing that I didn’t already know.”

“How very masterful you are this evening, M’sieur Heath!” Minette dimpled. “I do not complain, mind you; I like it very well!
Tout de même,
you do not wish me to flirt with you, so I shall be good. Ask me anything. I will tell you what you wish to know.”

What Lionel wished more than anything to ask was the truth of young Charlot’s earlier provocative remark, but his trained legal mind forbade the reintroduction of betrothals into the conversation until more pressing details were dealt with. “You mentioned that there was a great deal of blood.”

“Blood? Of a certainty! It was
affreux!”
Minette wrinkled her pretty nose. “Frightful! Had you been present,
mon cher,
you too would have thought Edouard was dead. And I freely admit I was not sorry for it, because it was the first time in weeks that I felt free from alarm. Except that we couldn’t decide what to
do
with him, and I knew you wouldn’t like it very much.”

“Like
it?” echoed Lionel. “Good God!”

“I was correct; you disapprove!” Minette wrung her plump little hands. “But it was a very fortuitous event, because Edouard had a pistol, and he was convinced Vashti had the memorandum, and he had just said he would break both our necks! It was the greatest stroke of good fortune that a vase was broken over his head, because if it hadn’t been, we
would very likely be dead. And then Charlot came home, and we put Edouard in the hidden room, which was very fair, because that’s just what
he
did when he knocked Vashti over the head! Not that I expect you to enter into my feelings on this matter, M’sieur Heath—but you might, had Edouard bullied and threatened you, and forced you to become betrothed to him, and held you at gunpoint!
Oui,
and when I surprised him in Vashti’s bedchamber, he was asking
her
if she’d like to go with him to France!” Minette frowned. “Rather, he had asked her. Just then he was trying to take away her towel.”

“Her towel?” Despite himself, Lionel was fascinated by this account.

“Mais oui.”
Minette was very earnest. “It was all she was wearing. That is why Vashti has taken a chill, you see, because it was very damp, and Edouard kept her standing about in it for an unconscionable long time. Did I not tell you he was
canaille?”

“Good God,” said Lionel once again, and sat down on the green sofa, first glancing cautiously about to insure all the wildlife had departed the library in Charlot’s wake. He stared at Minette, who looked simultaneously hopeful and penitent. “How did you mean to dispose of the, er—”

“Corpse,” supplied Minette. “I had thought of dressing in his clothing so that he might appear to leave the house, but Vashti pointed out there was a great deal of blood, and therefore suspicions might be aroused. Charlot thought we should dump Edouard in the Thames, which was a very good idea, because bodies are frequently found floating in the river,
n’est-çe pas?
Except we could not decide how we were to transport Edouard’s body without attracting attention. It was a very large difficulty!” She sighed. “I decided to say I had realized Edouard and I would not suit, and had sent him about his business, which would explain why he suddenly ceased to call at Mountjoy House. It would have been only the tiniest of rappers, Lionel, because the prospect of marriage to Edouard turned me perfectly sick, and I would very much have liked to bid him go and be damned!”

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