Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 05] - Nanette (26 page)

Nanette's smile was rather forlorn and Harry saw her glance
down at her dusty and stained gown. "Oh, what a dolt!" he ex-claimed.
"There is a parcel in the cart, little one. A small token for Diccon,
and something for you."

Her bright eyes came around to him eagerly, and he told her to
go and make herself pretty so that they all might celebrate when the
surgeon was finished "with this swine."

The half hour that followed was not destined to rate among the
high points of Harry's life Concealing his apprehension admirably.
Mitchell sat close at hand, keeping the patient's cup well filled with
cognac, and at the first stitch of the needle, he launched hastily into
the explanation his brother had demanded. It was, he pointed out, all
Harry's fault, for had he not from the outset sought to deceive, none
of it would have happened. Harry's attempt to protest was foiled by a
need to grit his teeth, and suppressing a shudder, Mitchell said, "I
returned to Town to discover you already departed. Crosby
Frye—er—confirmed my worst fears about my father… and when I learned
Sanguinet owned a chateau in Dinan, I assumed you'd gone tearing over
there to see what he could tell you. I followed, naturally, in a
gallant attempt to keep you out of trouble, for in view of your
predilection for hare-brained escapades… He laughed "No, don't eat me,
Harry. I was really quite justified in—

'In…in calling out Sanguinet, and—" Harry's vehemence was
again shut off, and he leaned back, lips tight.

Mitchell tendered the cup. "Oh, so you heard about it. It was
all so damned nonsensical. When we reached the chateau—did I tell you I
took Anderson with me? Poor fellow, I'm afraid we became separated in
all the commotion after I shot Sanguinet, but—

"After you
…what
?" gasped Harry, sitting
up again, while Yves also gaped his astonishment.

"Well, I'd not really meant to, you understand," Mitchell
explained earnestly. "But when I first went to the chateau the place
was crawling with guards and they were so dashed unfriendly. Wouldn't
tell me if you was there or not, and looked ready to cut up rough, so I
had to leave. I chanced to meet Jacques de Roule of all people, in
Dinan, and it turned out he was to be a guest at a masquerade party
Sanguinet was hosting that evening. Drink up, old fellow, you look a
bit green around the gills… Well, Jacques is a jolly good man, as you
know, and to make a long story short, he
took
me
along with him. I'd not told him anything of my father's connection
with Sanguinet, of course. " He hesitated and, well aware of his
brother's unyielding adherence to the Code of Honour, said with a trace
of anxiety. "It was a trifle underhanded, but—had I done so, d'you
think he would have invited me?"

"Very likely not," Harry said dryly.

"Precisely. And in view of the attitude of Sanguinet's people,
I took the precaution of carrying one of your Mantons in my pocket. Now
don't get up in the boughs, for lord's sake!" His boyish grin disarming
Harry's indignation, he went on, "It is the most incredible place,
Sauvage
!
They must be so rich as to buy several abbeys! The chateau itself is
all gold and crystal and red velvet, and full of art works. And the
gardens! The entire hill is divided into separate areas, each
landscaped in a given theme so as to—"

"The… devil with—the hill! What happened between you and—"

"All right, all right." Mitchell wrenched his eyes from that
horrifying needle. "When we came inside everyone was masked, of course,
and I could not discover Sanguinet. Nor anyone I knew, save for…" He
paused and said musingly, "One of the ladies, a charming Puritan,
seemed to know me. She beckoned at last, and when I went to her, told
me she was a widow from Sussex and begged to know where we'd met
before. Oh, laugh then, but she would not be convinced and finally
teased me into unmasking. I could see that she was truly baffled… Well,
at all events, it turned out she
did
know
Sanguinet's costume and pointed him out to me. I think the fellow saw
her do so, for he came over at once. He was all affability, but when I
revealed my identity, at first denied having met my father, and then
made a remark…" He hesitated, not daring to repeat what Sanguinet had
said of Colin Redmond. "Er— to which I took exception. You must admit,
I am not the least hot at hand, but…"

Beginning to feel sick and exhausted, Harry interposed
jerkily, "Did you… slap him?"

"I'd intended to, but—unfortunately… Well, we were in the
refreshment room, and I had collected a full plate of delicacies for my
Puritan, and—" Mitchell flushed and said sheepishly, "Jacques held it
was frightfully
gauche
of me, but—I'd quite
forgot the plate was in my hand, you see…"

"You would!" grinned Harry. "You never threw the lot in his
face?"

Yves had again paused in his efforts as though he couldn't
believe his ears, aware of which, Mitchell's flush deepened. "No, no!
Well— not
all
. But—" He scanned Harry's face
anxiously. "I fear a few cream puffs did rather… sail off."

"Cawker!" Gleefully picturing Parnell's sneering countenance
adorned with cream puffs, Harry laughed, "When did you meet him?"

"Half an hour later. For heaven's sake, Yves! Don't gawk at
me— you're not done with your sewing! Yes, Sanguinet called me out at
once. Lord, but he was furious. I never saw a man white and shaking
with passion, yet so terribly mannerly. Oh—that surprises you,
Sauvage
?
He was, I assure you. His friends urged that we delay until the morrow,
but there was no containing him. I had humiliated him in front of his
guests, he said (and I fear he was right!). De Charlet, his second, was
concerned that the guests might learn of it, but Sanguinet said we
could fight in the centre of the maze where none would see us—they've
an enormous one in from of the chateau, and there's a clear space in
the middle, about twenty feet across. "I'd chosen pistols, of course."
He gave a wry smile. "Poor Jacques was sure my last hour had come. It
seems Sanguinet's a renowned shot, and I—er…"

"Do not know muzzle from grip," Harry nodded grimly. "Blasted
idiot."

"Well, at all events, I was looking around, thinking how
beautiful it all was, for it truly was a lovely night. But then I
remembered what he'd said." Mitchell's jaw set, and a fierce light
Harry had never seen before crept into the long grey eyes. "De Charlet
called 'Fire!' just at that moment." He shrugged and then said with his
shy grin, "Jacques held it was beginner's luck."

Harry waved away the cup. "And you actually
hit
him?"

"Just below the left armpit. Horrid mess. But—to give the
devil his due, he was dashed decent about it until—" Here, his teeth
caught at his lower lip and, eyeing his brother nervously, he finished
in a rush, "—until de Charlet lifted him and said, "
Sacre bleu
!
Is it very bad, Guy?"

"
Guy .
. ?" gasped Harry.

Watching him in an agony of apprehension, Mitchell stammered,
"You'll not disown me, will you?"

"You… shot the
wrong… man
?"

"Deuced awkward, isn't it? Guy was a trifle put about when he
realized what had happened."

"I… should imagine… he well might be!" Harry looked at Yves,
and Yves stared openmouthed at Mitchell, and they all fell into such a
howl of laughter that surgery had to be temporarily suspended.

"Dashed clodpole!" sighed Harry at length, wiping his brimming
eyes. "Did you not know there is more than one of the breed? I wonder
you got away with your skin!"

Mitchell chuckled but, as a tearful Yves resumed his work,
said slowly, "Tell you the truth, Harry, it
was
a
trifle chancy. Oh, not because of Guy; he was a good sportsman. But
when he fainted, his men were not very nice. Jacques and I had to run
for it and would never have found our way out of the blasted maze had
it not been for my lovely Puritan. She followed us and guided us out.
Sauvage
…
?" He leaned forward anxiously. "Are you all right?"

"Devil… a bit of it," said Harry dazedly. "I wonder Yves's
papa has a single swine… left! Continue, Mitch, I beg you. It sustains
me. Did no one attempt to stop you?"

"Well, the thing was that the shots brought many of the men
rushing to the maze, but luckily they couldn't find their way to the
centre. We were stopped once, but fortunately Jacques and I were able
to down the fellows and change masks with them before any more came
around the corner. We were almost out at last when a shout went up that
I had shot Sanguinet. Next, the howl was raised to unmask—if anyone saw
a man they didn't know, they were to seize him. I'll admit, I thought
we were done for!" He was silent a moment then, his mouth curving to a
mischievous grin, said, "Happily—many of Sanguinet's guests were—ah—not
well acquainted…"

"Oh! Damn it all . . !" Harry groaned. "How I should love to
have seen it!" He laughed unsteadily. "And so, while mayhem raged in
the maze, you and Jacques made good your escape. But—how did you meet
your free traders?"

Mitchell wiped his brother's wet face and held the cup to his
lips once more. "Jacques went one way and I another. I stole a horse in
the village, but Sanguinet's men were everywhere, and I could not come
to the pension where Andy waited and finally had to make a dash for the
coast with four of 'em hot on my heels. When my poor hack could go no
further I ran until my legs gave out. The moon was down by then, and on
the beach I overheard someone talking. It turned out to be this
rascally lot carrying their kegs down to the ship. One of them crept up
behind me and was preparing to split my skull when luckily—"

"He spoil our Gaston," Yves put in aggrievedly. "Only Gaston
have know the ways on this side of the water. And M. Michel he throw
Gaston down and spring his ankle."

"Yes, and they all but shot me out of hand," said Mitchell,
"until they found out I am English. So we drove a bargain—they would
give me passage and I would be their guide."

Mitchell's efficiency as a guide appeared to be questionable,
and he and Yves wrangled good-naturedly over his accomplishments, or
the lack of them, for the next several minutes.

Between the potent brandy and his brother's drollery, Harry
managed somehow to endure without disgracing himself. He had seldom
been more relieved, however, than when Yves pronounced his task
completed, waved away their thanks, and returned to the group obsessed
by dinner preparations.

With a stifled sigh, Harry leaned back against the tree and
closed his eyes. To conceal the fact that he was almost as shaken as
his brother, Mitchell launched into a vivid discription of the grounds
at Chateau Sanguinet until gradually Harry's pallor began to be less
frightening. When he was at last well roasted for having made mice feet
of his first duel, Mitchell's grin held more of delight than
repentance. "I have yet to hear
your
story, my
revered dotard," he countered. "No sooner is my back turned than you
vanish, to turn up in a cart driven by two ravishing beauties.!"

Harry chuckled. "My taste is none so bad, eh?"

"Bad! Never in my life have I seen so lovely a sight as The
Tawnish! She'll have London by the ears when she comes out! I wonder
you did not fall in love with her at first sight!"

"Matter of fact," smiled Harry, "I did, but—" He shoved
himself away from the tree, staring incredulously.

The girls were leaving the tent, but it was not upon the
angelically fair Nerina that his eyes lingered. Beside her was a lady
who was all witchery from the top of her shining head to her little
slippers. Her lush young body was enticing yet demure in the white
muslin gown. Dark curls framed her piquant face, and the ribbon tied
about her head awoke green lights in those brilliant hazel eyes. Her
gaze flew to meet his, and her slender fingers touched the silver
locket that hung upon the sweet curve of her bosom.

The noisy clamour of the smugglers faded to a hushed silence,
through which Mitchell breathed an awed, "By… Jove!"

"Devil take it!" Harry thought. "My shrew is beautiful!" Her
beauty lacked Nerina's fragile perfection; her gaze was more honest and
direct; her mouth wider than Nerina's softly petulant rosebud lips, yet
holding a sweet curve, withal; and the chin—that indomitable little
chin… Why had he not seen how adorable she was? A flood of yearning
swept him; he knew an irresistible need to take her into his arms and
hold her… to tell her what was suddenly, breathtakingly in his heart.
His past infatuations vanished and were gone forever, and in that
moment he knew with total sureness that his tender, volatile,
courageous little shrew had filled his life from the moment she entered
it. And God willing, would fill it until the day he died.

Somehow he was on his feet and starting forward. But another
was before him. Mitchell was bowing low and saying with a revoltingly
charming smile, "Who is this, my lady? Introduce us, I beg of you."

Nerina muttered something, and Nanette laughed up into the
young man's handsome face. Harry stood rigid, his breath held in check.
Nerina wandered to him and, looking at the two who stood in quiet
converse, sighed, "What a pretty couple they make. Truly, your brother
is a gentleman of most insinuating address, Sir Harry."

Mitchell
? The girl had maggots in her
attic, that's what it was! Insinuating address? His absent-minded
schoolboy of a brother?

Nanette came to him then, her eyes scanning him anxiously. He
looked very tired, she thought, but his colour was improved and when he
cheerfully assured her he felt much better, she was vastly relieved.
She laughed when he peered around the clearing and said he could not
think what had become of the little shrew he'd been escorting to
Devonshire. "Alas," she said gaily, "she is as shrewish as ever despite
her new finery, but—Oh, Harry, the dress is perfect and I love my
locket! Thank you!"