Ask Me No Questions (32 page)

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Authors: Patricia Veryan

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He grunted and said with a marked lack of sympathy, " 'Tis a pity you did not think of all that before you slithered back here with Falcon. You both draw the eye and deuce take it, you drew many tonight! Yes, I know—you wanted him, and you think that always you can take whatever you want, do whatever you want, and that you can bend any man to your will because you're beautiful. Well, you'll not bend Gordon Chandler! You've lost him, my girl!"

"He is an arrogant, overbearing—yokel!" She snatched up a vase and would have hurled it at the door had de Brette not wrested it from her. Through her teeth she hissed, "His stupid head is full of the most antiquated notions imaginable! Were you a loyal brother you would be after him with a pistol in your hand!" His lordship's only response being a derisive snort, she began to pace up and down, wringing her hands. "I wish you might have
heard
how he insulted me! Much love he has for me, to treat me in so abominable a way!"

"You brought it on yourself, dear heart. Besides, did I not say he was smitten with the Allington woman?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes. I accused him of it, and I believe you are right. My God! Who would
dream
the fool would lust after that cheap, worthless baggage? Is
she
the Toast of London? Has
she
received dozens of offers from the pick of the
ton
? She is a nothing!"

"I disagree," said de Brette with a slow smile. "Mrs. Allington has a luscious shape, and a graceful way with her. And did she wear decent gowns and dress her hair in a less severe style, she could be a beauty."

Incredulous, she said, "You must be addled! She is a dowd! A cheap slut! Yet did you mark how she stood there in the garden this afternoon? Holding that revolting brat, and looking down her nose at me for all the world as if she was of the Quality! The impudence of the creature! I declare she put me in mind of…" Her words trailed off. Her eyes became very round and her lower lip sagged. For a long moment she stood there, gazing into space so that her brother became alarmed and asked if she was ill.

Ignoring his question, Lady Nadia half whispered. "It
cannot
be! Surely she was not so destitute as to… She changed her appearance, of course, and how should I dream—" With a sudden squeal of excitement she spun around, clapping her hands. "It is! It is! Oh, how rich! How delicious!" Her eyes brilliant with laughter she said, "Vincent, you will not believe I could have been so
blind
! It must be properly staged of course. And the question is—" she paused, resting one pink fingertip on her pouting lips "—which cast of characters would be most effective?'

At a loss, de Brette asked, "What on earth has inspired such transports? What do you mean to do, wicked jade?" Her laugh trilled out. "Sing, my dearest. And when I have properly captivated them into forgiving my— indiscretions, why then… oh,
how
I shall teach Mr. High and Mighty Chandler to rue the day he called me a fishwife!"

Chapter 13

The ballroom was quiet when Chandler slipped back into West House. The guests stood in groups about the floor or were seated at the sides, whispering together and watching Lady Nadia, who was conferring with the musicians. Chandler started to back away, but a deeper hush fell, the music started, and he was bound by the dictates of good manners to remain. While the introduction was played Nadia faced them all, a faint sad smile on her ruddy full-lipped mouth. She had chosen Dido's beautiful song of farewell from Purcell's
Dido and Aeneas
, and her rich soprano voice rippled out pure and true and thrilling in its poignancy.

Chandler watched her. She looked almost regal with the candlelight gleaming on her soft curls and drawing sparkles from the spangles scattered about the great skirts of her ball gown. Truly an exquisite beauty. And he marvelled that she could look so angelic, yet be so selfish; that the heartbreak sung with such tender feeling that it sent shivers down his spine could be rendered by one who seemed to have no heart at all. When she finished there was a breathless silence, then the enthralled crowd burst into thunderous applause.

Many in the audience had been moved to tears, and Sir Brian's eyes were suspiciously bright when he came up to grip his son's arm and say huskily, "Isn't she magnificent?

Rather naughty, I grant you. But—by God, she can sing! What a great gift, eh, my boy?"

Chandler's response was cut short as the applause died away and the music began once more. This time, Nadia sang one of Mr. Arne's songs, "Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind," and when she reached the line "Thou art not so unkind as love remembered not," she stretched out her rounded arms, her great dark eyes fixed pleadingly on Chandler, so that many envious smiles were turned to him. He gritted his teeth. She might as well have begged his forgiveness before them all! Angered by such tactics, he drifted back and back until at last he could quietly slip away.

Half an hour later, he was at the door chatting with some guests who had to leave early when a footman hurried to him with a message that brought a black scowl to his face.

He crossed the gardens to the main house, stamped along the hall, and flung open the door to his father's study. Lord Vincent and his sister sat with chairs close together, conversing earnestly.

"What the deuce is all this nonsense?" demanded Chandler.

My lady sprang to her feet. "I did not send for you! I told the footman to summon a constable."

"Instead of which, he came to me as he very properly should have done. Why the— Why do you want a constable?"

She had known very well that the footman would go to him, but she strove to look wounded. "If you must know, in spite of the way I have been treated, I am trying to protect my dear Sir Brian. I have discovered that a thief is hiding here right under your so moral nose."

Chandler closed the door. "I think it far more likely, ma'am, that you mean to serve me out for having severed our connection."

De Brette said, "If my dearest sister is grieved by your cruelty, as she has every right to be, it has nothing to say to the point. I trust you have sent for the constable." He stood. "If you have not—I shall."

Leaning back against the door, Chandler said, "You will do nothing of the sort until I know what this is—"

A knock sounded. He jerked upright and whipped the door open.

Her eyes huge with fright, her comely face very pale, Grace Milford stood on the threshold. "Oh, sir," she said, breathless. "I come so fast as I could get dressed. The footman said 'twas a matter o'life and death. Is it poor—" She saw Lady de Brette then, and stopped with a yelp of fright.

"Aha!" exclaimed my lady triumphantly. "You recognize me, I see! Wretched creature! Where is your thieving mistress?"

Chandler had been watching Grace, but at these words he jerked his head around to direct a frowning stare at his ex-fiancee.

Pale with terror, Grace mumbled, "What a—a
awful
thing to say! My mistress is not more a thief than—"

My lady smiled. "We will see what the constable has to say after I bring charges 'gainst her!"

Chandler lifted his hand in a haughtily commanding gesture that made my lady yearn to scratch him. His premonition of disaster deepened by Grace Milford's obvious terror, he said, "I feel sure you mean to explain your remarks, Lady de Brette."

"You may believe I do!" The beauty stepped closer to Grace. "I
knew
I had seen your mistress somewhere before, but she was so cunning as to have changed her appearance, and how should one believe a lady of Quality would sink to do menial work? Had I laid eyes upon you, I would have had her! You will remember my telling you, Chandler, of how I was cheated when I sought to purchase a desk and some other furniture? Well, 'twas your precious artist who so wickedly choused me out of one hundred pounds!"

Her voice breathless and quavering, Grace argued, "You were far from cheated, my lady! The pieces you selected were worth four times what you offered!"

"I did not
offer! I paid
, you conscienceless wretch! And when my servants went to collect my purchases there was a bailiff in possession who would not give them what I'd bought. The pair of you had run off with my money, well knowing the furniture Mrs. Allington sold me no longer belonged to her!"

Chandler felt the blood drain from his face, and heard as from a distance that shrill voice rant on. "Your mistress knew perfectly well her furnishings had all been confiscated for debt! 'Tis why the conniving thing gave me a false name! She said she was Mrs. Lingways!"

"No!" Grace wrung her hands but faltered bravely, "That is—is not true, milady. The
estate
is called Lingways. You gave Mrs. Allington no chance to—"

"Gave her no
chance
?" Contemptuous, Lady Nadia exclaimed, " 'Pon rep, how you lie, woman! She had
every
chance, for she kept me there forever, looking through all the sorry stuff she had the gall to offer me, while
you
were so brazen as to try to make her raise her already exorbitant prices. I told you of it, Chandler, so do not pretend you don't remember. I had planned to give the desk to your papa for his birthday. 'Tis what made it all the more distressing, for I know he would have liked it prodigiously."

Struggling to gather his wits, he said, "But that must have been another purchase, surely? For you would not have selected his gift from goods you judged to be 'a sorry lot'?"

She flushed, but said defiantly, "I do not propose to discuss the case with you! Vincent—find out whether the constable has been summoned!"

Her brother marched forward resolutely, but again Chandler blocked the door, the glint in his eyes, the jut of his chin causing Lord Vincent to hesitate.

Chandler said, "I will not have my father upset by more of your histrionics until I have heard the other side of this story."

"I have given you no histrionics, sir, but a faithful accounting of what transpired," declared Lady Nadia angrily. "Why should we listen to the lies of a thief?"

"There may be another explanation than theft, ma'am. Besides which, we chance to live in Britain, where a person accused of a crime has a right to be heard."

"Yes, indeed," drawled Lord Vincent. "Heard by a judge—which you are not. And in a court of law—which this is not! After which thieves are hanged or transported. As such creatures deserve."

He was quite correct. Suddenly, Chandler could see that terrible yard at Newgate Prison where people of morbid curiosity went to see convicted felons hanged. The theft of so large a sum as one hundred pounds was most definitely a capital crime, and to envision Ruth's gold and white daintiness being dragged to those hideous steps caused him to break into a cold sweat. Somehow, he controlled his terror and asked, "Miss Milford, can you explain this?"

She attempted to answer, but her voice broke and she burst into tears. "My dear Mrs. A. did not know, sir!" she said between sobs. "Truly—she did not
know
! So hard her life has been since her poor brother died… And—and always she has managed somehow to… to keep us together. We knowed the estate was to be sold for debt, which like to broke her heart. But many of the furnishings were her own… handed down from her mama. She sold some, so as to pay the… servants and—and settle some debts." Through a haze of tears she pleaded, "Sir—may I be struck down if I lie! We thought that only the
property
was to be sold. We never
dreamed
—"

"Never dreamed, indeed!" scoffed Lady Nadia. "Is that why you ran so fast, and so far? Is that why you went to such lengths to confuse anyone trying to discover your whereabouts that my agents could find no trace of you? What rubbish!"

Grace sobbed louder and her voice was muffled as she sank her head into her hands. "That was my doing, milady. I found out the truth when I went into Shoe-Shoeburyness to pay off the grocer. And I couldn't bear to… tell Mrs.A., when she'd already give the servants their back pay and they'd gone. She couldn't of… got the money back, y'see. So I made her hurry, saying we'd miss the coach. 'Twas all
my
doing, Mr. Gordon! But—"she raised a ravaged, tear-stained face"—Mrs. A. didn't know, sir. She
still
doesn't know! I
swear
—"

"What a farradiddle!" said Lady Nadia, impatient. "Save your swearing for the court, woman! Much good it may do you or your wicked mistress!"

In desperation, Grace sank to her knees. "Ma'am—do not! I
beg
of you. I've no money, but—I'll work for you. For the rest of—of my days, I'll work to pay you back!"

" 'Twould take more days than you have to repay one hundred guineas!"

Chandler was very still and very white. Watching him, De Brette drawled slyly, "Perchance Mrs. Allington would also be willing to work off her debt, m'dear."

Chandler turned such a murderous glare on him that, involuntarily, he stepped back a pace.

My lady said, "Thank you for nothing, brother. I had sooner have a woman of the streets in my service than take in a thief!"

Grace shrank lower, a shaking hand pressed to her lips. They were lost, then. At the very least the boys would be put in a workhouse. At worst, they would go with her and her beloved mistress into the dreaded Newgate Prison. And if Mrs. A. was hanged… or transported… "Oh, God!" she moaned. "Oh, my dear Lord, help us!"

Chandler met Lady Nadia's smug smile, and knew that his glimpse of heaven had been very brief.

 

The morning dawned with a bluster of wind and rain. Low-hanging clouds had a yellowish tinge that caused Enoch Tummet to purse his lips. "Bad weather coming," he muttered, brushing his employer's thick black hair. "It were like this the one and only time I set me trotters on a boat. Cor! Couldn't get me on one never agin. Not if you paid me!"

"I would pay a good deal to get you on one," said Falcon. "Pull it back tighter, you block!" He rolled his eyes at the ceiling and advised it that he was surrounded by clods, adding, as the door to his bedchamber opened, "And here's living proof of it! Are you acquainted with any sea captains, Morris? I need one to take this imitation valet off my hands."

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