Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 08] - Sanguinet's Crown (8 page)

He could not tell her of the ugly suspicion her words had
awoken in his mind, and so evaded. "The name is familiar. Wasn't he in
some kind of trouble a short while ago?"

Her laugh was a merry trill, and she performed a miniature
pirouette. "What kind? My Dev's had all sortsa troubles."

"Has he?" said Redmond, smiling with her. "Like—you, for
instance, madam?"

"Oh yes. I'm his worstest trouble by far, he says. Do you like
cats?"

"But of course."

"Some men don't. Was—were you taking Little Patches for a
walk?"

He chuckled. "I fancy it was the other way round. I suppose
you are in school? Or have you a governess?"

"Mr. Dev can't send me to the cemetery 'cause I don't always
talk just so nice. What you sniggering at?"

Redmond sobered with an effort. "Your pardon. Was I
sniggering?"

"I think so. It's what Miss Cassell says I do when she talks
jawbreakers at me! Did I say a bad word? Ain't it—I mean, isn't it
'cemetery' where young ladies go?"

"I hope not, Mademoiselle Josephine. I believe the word you
seek is 'seminary.' "

Briefly she was silent, then shook her small head as if
banishing some half-remembered thought. "When I was little, I was stole
by gypsies," she revealed chattily. "My Dev 'dopted me so I wouldn't be
sold to a flash house."

"Poor little girl." Touched, he stroked her thick hair in a
quick caress.

"Thank you," she said blithely. "Come on, or I'll be late for
supper! What's a wretched rake?"

Redmond's jaw set, and the kindness died from his eyes. For a
moment he said nothing, then he answered, "A very—unwise gentleman.''
And having no doubt of the reply, asked, "Whom did you hear say that?"

"Miss Charity. She's the dearest of dears. And so is Mrs.
Rachel, even if she
is
so pretty. Miss Charity
didn't know I heared her say 'wretched rake.' " She rolled the words
around zestfully.

"Were I you, I don't think I'd say it in front of anyone else.
Not ladylike. Er, what did Miss Charity have to say about this—er,
person?"

"She says as the wret—er, the unwise cove—"

"Gentleman."

"Oh. Well, she says as how he's gone and made us lose Little
Patches prob'ly, and he wasn't nothing but a iggerant warthog with tall
feet."

Redmond stared his astonishment. "She said—
what
?"

"I think that's what it was. Something about warthogs, I know."

Puzzling at it, he asked experimentally, "Could it have been
'boor?' "

"Oh, that's right! A iggerant boar! That means warthog, don't
it?"

He grinned, vexation rapidly giving way to amusement. "Not
quite. And are you sure it wasn't arrogant instead of ignorant?"

"Yes!
What
a silly I am! Did I get the
rest right?"

"Almost…" He racked his brain, muttering dubiously, "Tall
feet…" Then, with a sudden burst of laughter, "I have it! High in the
instep!"

Once more her liquid little giggle rang out. "Dev will say I'm
a proper goose.''

Still laughing, he gasped, "An ignorant warthog with tall
feet! Wait till Harry hears that!"

"How lovely it is that Devenish has come," Charity said
happily. Already dressed for dinner, she adjusted her taffeta skirts
with care and sat on the edge of the bed, watching Agatha thread a gold
fillet through Rachel's shining curls. "And little Josie, how happy she
is now, bless her."

"She deserves happiness, poor waif." Rachel smiled up at the
comely abigail. "That's very nice, Agatha. Now, the emerald pendant I
think will look well with this lime gown. Dev still limps, had you
noticed, Charity?"

"Yes. And he probably drove today, which he should not do. But
you know he never will admit that he is in the slightest troubled by
that leg."

"Never," Rachel agreed. "But he looks to be in good spirits
and is as saucy as ever.''

"Oh, most decidedly. No sooner did he learn that Mr. Redmond
is here than he demanded to know whether the gentleman was trying to
fix his interest with me."

With the assurance that devoted service and a sharing of peril
had given her, Agatha joined in the laughter. "Mr. Redmond is held to
be a very good catch, Miss Charity. And," she sighed admiringly, "what
a lovely gentleman."

"Much chance he would have," Rachel said merrily.

"I cannot guess how he could be judged a 'good catch' with his
reputation," Charity argued. "Are the Redmonds very plump in the
pockets?"

Rachel dabbed Essence of Dreams behind her ears and said
thoughtfully, "I believe Sir Harry has a charming country seat in
Hampshire, besides a comfortable independence. And of course his bride
brought him her enormous fortune. But as to his brother…"

"Five thousand pounds a year, ma'am," supplied Agatha, draping
a zephyr shawl about her lady's shoulders. "But they do say as his
gambling has added to that, instead of knocking it all to pieces."

Charity laughed. "I suppose your scamp of a spouse discovered
all that for you.''

Agatha dimpled and admitted that Raoul did seem to "have a
knack" for ferreting out bits and pieces of news. "Besides which," she
added, "that man of Mr. Redmond's be such a bragger. When he bean't
singing—which is enough to drive a nightingale to crowing!—he's jawing.
And most of it about his master, which he shouldn't ought to do if he
knowed how to go on. Which he doesn't!"

The sisters exchanged faint smiles. Rachel said gently,
"DiLoretto seems very devoted, at least."

"Oh, he is that, surely." Agatha sniffed. "Is this broidered
fan suitable, Mrs. Rachel? It has the greens in it." She offered the
fan for inspection and went on, "It ain't fair to criticize, I s'pose.
'Specially since he don't know beans about being a valet. How could he?
What with being a foreigner and the sort of past he's got."

Rachel approved the fan and, curious, asked, "What do you
mean? Never say Mr. Redmond's man was once a criminal?"

Charity thought, "Why not? His master obviously was!" but she
said nothing.

"I won't go so far as to say that, ma'am," said Agatha. "A
ostler is what he was. At one o' them dirty little hedge taverns in
Belgium, I b'lieve. Mr. Redmond got hisself hurt in one o' them duels
and diLoretty looked after him. He's been with Mr. Redmond ever since."

Charity said dryly, "I thought the mighty Mitchell Redmond
never was bested at anything."

"Well, he'd likely not have been, miss, 'cept he was ill, and
just the same he went up against some Eye-talian count who is famous
with a sword."

"How very stupid," exclaimed Charity, disgusted. "And how
typical."

"Aye, miss, so I said. But diLoretty gets proper up in the
boughs if you dare say anything 'gainst his master. He says as Mr.
Redmond is a very brave gent. And very proud."

Charity had a mental picture of Redmond's face, pale and tight
with fury after their verbal duel today. "Pride," she said with a
twinkle, "goeth before a fall !"

Partly because of Miss Josie Storm's obvious adoration of her
guardian, and partly out of interest in the reason behind Devenish's
apparently spur-of-the-moment decision to visit Strand Hall, Mitchell
Redmond was eager to meet this new arrival. Unfortunately, a small
disaster with neckcloths compounded the fact that his encounter with
Josie had delayed his changing for dinner. Shooting his cuffs, he ran
downstairs just as the gong was being sounded by a stern-faced footman.
There was only time for Leith to perform a brief introduction.

Shaking hands, Redmond was more than a little astonished, for
this man did not even remotely conform to his mental image of the
guardian of a twelve-year-old girl. Alain Devenish was slim and
slightly below average height. The cut of his coat was excellent,
although his cravat was happily worse than Redmond's. Despite his lack
of inches, he was well built and his handshake was firm, but his
features were so perfect as to be almost inhuman in their beauty, and
the slightly curling blond hair, the dark blue of the wide-set eyes,
added to an impression of extreme youth.

With a friendly grin that caused those same eyes to crinkle at
the corners, Devenish said an unfortunate, "Jolly glad to meet you,
Redmond. Heard you was with the Forty-Third so we're all military men
together. No lazy civilians amongst us, eh?"

Charity thought, "Oh, dear!" Bolster looked dismayed, and
Tristram Leith groaned inwardly.

A film of ice chilled Redmond's smile, and Devenish knew with
a sinking heart that he had erred again.

"I suspect you confuse me with my famous brother." Redmond
pointed out dryly. "I was just another 'lazy civilian,' I fear." His
quizzing glass was raised, and through it he contemplated Devenish's
face. "Do you say you was in the military? How very remarkable."

"Remarkable?" His chin lifting, Devenish said, " 'Fraid I do
not follow you, sir."

"Oh, no offence," drawled Redmond, and added, "Only that I had
rather fancied you would have been too, er, young."

"Had you indeed? Well, allow me to inform you, Redmond, that
our bugle boy was twelve years old!"

Redmond smiled with infuriating condescension. "That, of
course, would explain it."

Leith saw the quick flare of Devenish's nostrils. He was very
well acquainted with this young firebrand and lost no time in
suggesting that they should proceed to the dining room.

Bowing gallantly, Devenish offered his arm to Charity Strand.
He knew her laughing eyes were quizzing him, and he muttered
sotto
voce
, "Gad! What an icicle!"

Mitchell ignored Bolster's mildly reproachful stare and set
Mr. Devenish down as an impertinent, frippery sort of fellow, quite
unlikely to have had any association with the elusive, daring, and
mysterious individual who occasionally went by the name of Diccon.

Despite their immediate and mutual antipathy, neither
gentleman was so ill-bred as to flaunt such a reaction, and dinner went
off pleasantly enough, Devenish asking eagerly that he be apprised of
any news involving an apparent host of mutual friends and
acquaintances, and Bolster, the Leiths, and Miss Strand just as eager
that he tell them of developments concerning himself and his ward. Ever
the polite host, Leith saw to it that Redmond was not left out of the
conversation, and two hours slipped gracefully away. Not until they
were ending the meal and Devenish had accepted the Chantilly crème that
Fisher offered, did he remark that he planned to go to Town and had
hoped the journey could be shared with the Strands.

"Missed 'em," Bolster pointed out sagely.

"Well, I know that, you clunch. What I don't know is what
brings
you
into this sylvan solitude."

Selecting a slice of
cafe gateau
,
Bolster inspected it with minute concentration. "I, ah, just ch-cha-
happened to be in the neighborhood."

"—of Dorsetshire," Leith put in with a grin.

"Dorsetshire?" gasped Devenish.

Redmond drawled, "Jeremy has a catholic sense of
neighbourhood."

"It ain't so far removed as Gloucestershire," Bolster argued
amiably, and watching Devenish, his eyes keen under their heavy lids,
he asked,"Bit of a roundaboutation to travel from Devencourt to Town by
way of Sussex, ain't it?"

Redmond also slanted a glance to Devenish, but that young
Corinthian appeared totally unaware of the faint tension in the air and
directed an apologetic grin towards Tristram Leith's thoughtful
countenance. "Wasn't in Gloucestershire. And I know it's devilish bad
form to drop in on you unannounced like this, Tris. Tell the truth, I
didn't think you and Rachel would be here."

Rachel said teasingly,"Or you would not have come? But how
unchivalrous, Dev!"

Devenish's immediate attempt to absolve himself was
interrupted by a flurry of barking from the gardens, interspersed by
some irate feline yowls, so that it became necessary for Rachel to ask
that a lackey be sent to quiet Brutus. "I fear he is chasing the cats
again," she explained. "It is all bluster, you know. I don't believe he
has any other intention than to prove himself superior.''

"I do hope not," said Charity. "It would be dreadful were he
to hurt one of the kittens, and Little Patches has a tendency to be
slow.''

Tristram pointed out soothingly that cats could usually take
care of themselves. "Don't worry, Charity. Little Patches will soon
show our warrior Brutus that she's a lady to be reckoned with."

"Quite a kitty Cleopatra, in fact,'' said Rachel, with a fond
glance at her husband.

"I can see that Romans are highly regarded in this house,"
murmured Redmond, turning his wineglass idly on the tablecloth. "Your
sister was speaking of Nero earlier today, ma'am."

Amused, Rachel said, "You do not surprise us, Mr. Redmond.
Charity has a deep interest in history."

A spark awoke in Redmond's bored eyes. "Do you indeed, Miss
Strand?" He turned to Charity. "Any particular period?"

"I find it all fascinating," she replied, and seeing the
immediate sardonic twist of his lips, added hurriedly, "As little of it
as I know, that is. But I cannot say I hold Nero in high regard. If the
chroniclers are to be believed, the man was a monster. Only look at the
hundreds of people he caused to be slain. Even his own mother!"

"But he appears to have been manoeuvred into that, ma'am, by a
jealous woman."

"And I suppose he was also manoeuvred into the sack of
Colchester and the slaughter of the Ninth Legion!"

Redmond's brows lifted. "You do indeed know your history, Miss
Strand. Consider, though, how much easier it is to view the past with
objectivity than to apply the lessons it teaches. One shudders to
imagine what future generations may think of
our
contribution to the march—or shuffle—of civilization."