Lady in the Stray (25 page)

“Punch!” Charlot was indignant. “I say, Papa, that’s very bad!”

“No,
mon fils,
it is very good.” retorted the comte. “The best punch I have ever drunk. Marmaduke’s secret recipe, fair play—” He snapped his fingers. “Our fortunes are made.”

Delphine, deprived of her quarry, glanced around for an object on which to vent her spleen. Thorpe looked a picture, holding an empty jacket dangling in mid-air. “Plague on’t!” she uttered. “The cockerel has fled the coop.”

“So he has,” agreed Minette, “if by the cockerel you mean Edouard. Me, I am just as glad of it. He is my only kinsman, and even if he is
canaille,
I have decided I do not wish to see him hanged.”

A general babble of conversation broke out at this point, and not much of it had to do with the villainous Edouard. Between Lord Stirling and Vashti, Minette and Lionel, congratulations were given and exchanged. Lord Stirling’s godpapa resumed his flirtation with Valérie. Messrs. Appleby and Thorpe, and a great many of the other gamblers, repaired above stairs to the gaming rooms, all the excitement having whetted their thirst. The comte engaged in a discussion of the ins and outs of gaming-house operation with Orphanstrange and Delphine, both of whom he trusted would continue to grace the establishment.

Aunt Adder, incensed beyond tolerance by the indignities that she had suffered during the past half hour, drew a deep breath. “Etienne, I do not presume to judge your conduct,” she said, somewhat untruthfully, “but even you must realize that a boy of Charlot’s tender years cannot benefit from the vicissitudes he will witness in a gaming hell!”

“Moonshine!” Charlot uttered rudely. “I
have
been living in a gaming hell, and am not a penny the worse for it!”

“Are you not?” Aunt Adder’s cheeks were mottled with rage. “We shall discuss that once you are returned to Brighton, my boy!”

“I won’t go back to Brighton!” Charlot’s own cheeks were pink. He clutched at Mohammed. “Vashti, say I needn’t!”

“It is not for your sister
to
say!” Aunt Adder was triumphant. “Your father must have the final word in such matters, and I am certain he will agree with me.”

“I don’t know why you should be certain,” the comte remarked. “I do not recall that I have agreed with you once in all my life, Adelaide.
Tout de même,
I do believe that in this instance—”

Lord Stirling looked at Vashti, and at Charlot, both of whom were regarding him pleadingly. Then he glanced at the cat that was purring in his arms. The days of his carefree bachelor existence were clearly at an end.

“What the devil!” said his lordship recklessly. “Charlot will reside with his sister and myself—unless you’d mind, bantling?”

“Mind? I should think not!” Charlot thought Edouard could have been no happier to escape. “I didn’t
truly
think you’d hit Vashti over the head, sir!”

“Hit—” Aunt Adder’s entire face was suffused with deep, dull red. “This is the outside of enough! I wash my hands of you all, I vow!”

“Capital!” cried the unrepentant Charlot, and gave his hound an exuberant hug. “Then we shall
all
be suited to a cow’s thumb!”

And so they were, with the possible exception of Edouard, from whom no more was ever heard.

Copyright © 1982 by Maggie MacKeever

Originally published by Fawcett Coventry (0449502759)

Electronically published in 2007 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.