Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 09] - Logic Of The Heart (28 page)

"I wonder if you wish it as deeply as I wish I had
not—attacked you."

He froze, and became perfectly white.

Susan had lowered her eyes, and not seeing his reaction, went
on. "Though you never did return my poor mob-cap."

With comprehension came a deep sense of guilt. Montclair
leaned back and stifling a sigh of relief, lied, "I cannot think what
became of it."

She smiled to herself. "I noticed how thoughtful you looked
when the Runners left. Was that what you were worrying about, Mr.
Montclair?"

"No. Actually, I was thinking that it would be nice if you
would call me by my name. After all, we are old friends now. Aren't we?"

Her heart gave a little leap. The gentleman was indeed much
better! She said pensively, "Are we? Or is this just a temporary truce?"

"It will be far from temporary if I have my way."

Their eyes met and held. It was all Susan could do to remind
herself that he was betrothed to Miss Trent and had no business talking
to her like this. Even more flustered, she said, "I have been meaning
to ask you… I wondered if you have thought— I mean, despite what you
told the Runners, do you know who—who tried to—"

"To murder me?"

She gasped. "How
awful
that sounds!"

"Doesn't it," he agreed, his mouth grim again. "No, ma'am. I
know I am not universally loved, but… I'd not realized I was hated."

"It may not be a matter of hatred, Mr.—" His eyes shot to her.
She finished with a dimple, "Mr. Valentine. I read a tale once about
just such an attack, and the hero asked the victim's wife who would
most benefit by the murder."

Montclair said wryly, "Very few people would benefit in my
case, ma'am. I have some fine horses, a few prized belongings, an
inheritance that could be described as comfortable. And—" He paused.

And what? This
house
? She felt wretched,
and rushed on. "But—but you are your brother's heir—no? If something
should befall you…"

"The gentlemen from Bow Street had the same notion, Mrs.
Henley. But my brother is hale and hearty, and so much the Corinthian
with his racing and fisticuffs and all manner of sporting endeavours
that he will likely outlive me by ten years at least. Further, he's an
exceeding well-favoured man and will likely marry and set up his
nursery very soon—if he's not already done so. None of which in the
least offends me, for I've not the smallest desire to inherit either
the title or estates." He smiled faintly. "Too many responsibilities,
and I've other—interests. The next in line after me is my father's
younger brother, Hampton. My aunt calls him 'Poor Hampton' because he
was so unfortunate as to be severely injured in a riding accident when
only eighteen, and although he is the best of good fellows, has never
since enjoyed the full possession of his wits."

"How very sad. But after your Uncle Hampton— then… ?"

"Then Junius, as my aunt's only son. But—that seems too long a
wait, no? And waiting is such a horrid pastime. For instance—I thought
you would never come back, Mrs. Sue."

He had lowered his voice when he spoke her name and said it in
such a way that it again became necessary for her to duck her head to
hide her blushes. And what utter silliness! The wicked man was flirting
with her even as he awaited the visit of his betrothed! A fine respect
he held for the Widow Henley! She recovered her aplomb and said coolly,
"It is nice to be missed. I fancy you must be anxious to see Miss
Trent."

He did not look in the least set down, as she had intended,
but said with a slight frown, "Yes. Starry told me that Barbara had not
called."

"Starry?" Amused, she said, "Now what is this impropriety,
sir? If you've formed a
tendre
for my dear
companion, I must warn you that the Bo'sun also has eyes in that
direction."

Montclair grinned broadly. "No, has he? What a nice couple
they would make. She is a little darling of a lady. And with hands nigh
as gentle as…"—he gazed up at her—"as your own…"

Heavens, but it was a persistent flirt! Susan had to cling
hard to common sense. "Perhaps, since Dr. Sheswell says you may be up a
little, we can have you in the chair when Miss Trent comes. You will
like that."

"I will like to see her, certainly. I am greatly worried about
her, you see. She is so terribly alone."

Susan rose, picked up the almost empty water pitcher, and
trying not to so dislike Miss Trent, murmured, "What—in the bosom of
her family? And now safely betrothed? I would have thought—"

He gave a gasp, and his emaciated hand clamped onto her wrist.
He said sharply, "What do you mean? Betrothed? They've never
announced
it?"

How aghast he looked. Had he hoped to keep the betrothal a
secret? She removed his clasp, then wandered over to look down at the
river again, and
The Dainty Dancer
low in the
water, with Andy, Senor Angelo, and the Bo'sun busily unloading
Monsieur Monteil's goods, despite the drizzling rain. "Senor Angelo
went over to Longhills to see you," she explained. "But you were— well,
it was the morning after you were attacked. He had a—a little chat with
Miss Trent."

"And she told him she was betrothed? My God!"

One must not be harsh with an invalid, but it was all Susan
could do to keep the contempt out of her voice. "You do not seem
overjoyed by the announcement, sir."

"Gad, but I'm not," he groaned. "I told her to say no! I might
have known she'd not have the courage! Poor little goose."

Susan blinked and wandered back to his side. There could be
little doubt but that he was deeply fond of Miss Trent. He desired her,
but not as his wife, perhaps. Disgraceful. Yet—the lady did not seem to
yearn for wedded bliss either. What a lumpy gravy it was, to be sure!
Could it be that Mr. Montclair had been
forced
to
make an offer? Curious, she said, "Surely, if you objected to the
match, it was
your
responsibility to speak to her
parents to that effect?"

"I did speak to them. Much good it did. I offered to run away
with her, and had I been there I might have persuaded her…"

"Run—
away
with her… ?" gasped Susan.
"But—but where could you have taken her?"

"To the home of a friend in London."

Fascinated by the outrageous schemes of this
gentlemanly-seeming young rake, she asked, "And—would your friend have
let you stay?"

Montclair's eyelids were getting heavy. "Oh, yes," he
murmured. "She is very understanding."

Her own eyes very round, Susan whispered, "Indeed she must be!"

Montclair had drifted into slumber. She stared at the quiet
face for a moment, then went over to close the window curtains before
she tiptoed out.

At the foot of the stairs, she encountered Deemer who welcomed
her warmly. "Such a sad disappointment for the young gentleman, that
his lady did not come," he murmured. "How is he taking it, ma'am?"

"Most—remarkably," said Susan dryly.

After Montclair had breakfasted and been shaved next morning,
he sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, as had become the
daily ritual. Then the great experiment with the crutches began. Dodman
watched while the invalid struggled manfully, but it was clear the
crutches were not as easily used as one would have thought. When
Montclair wavered and almost fell, the Bo'sun ran to steady him and
lower him onto the chaise longue by the window. "You did very well,
sir," he said with his bright grin. "I reckon it'll take a little time
to get the mastery of 'em."

Panting but impatient, Montclair said, "Then let's try again."

"This afternoon perhaps, Mr. Valentine. But for now, you'd
better rest for a little while."

Montclair's fuming protests were ignored. The Bo'sun covered
his legs with a blanket, laughed at his indignation, and left him.

Scowling across the gardens towards Longhills Manor, Montclair
wondered when Babs would come. He brightened when he saw Mrs. Henley
walk in the direction of the stables, an umbrella over her head, and
her cream gown rippling in the wind. How gracefully she moved, and the
silk of her hair blew so softly and seemed the very essence of
femininity. That he could ever have thought it anything less than
exquisite was— He frowned and sat up straighter. Two men had come to
meet the lady and now stood talking with her. Two of the most
down-at-heel, disreputable-looking individuals he ever had laid eyes
on. Their hats sagged over bearded faces, they both stood in dire need
of a barber, and their garments—if they could be called such—were dirty
and tattered. Mrs. Sue could have nothing to say to such vagrants and
would send them packing quickly. But minutes passed and they did not
seem to be leaving.

Barking shrilly, Wolfgang ran up, then began to prance around
the strangers. One of them reached down to stroke him. Currying favour,
thought Montclair angrily. A fine brother Lyddford was! Why the deuce
did the clod not protect his sister from such unwholesome intruders?

The Trents had promised that their daughter would visit
Montclair this morning, but when by one o'clock she had not appeared,
Susan climbed the stairs to the bedchamber. With one hand on the door,
she paused. Why she should care whether the wretched girl came, escaped
her. They were the strangest pair of lovers she ever had seen,
preferring to run away in disgrace than to wed, and yet apparently
devoted! One could only think they deserved each other. Unconvinced and
decidedly downcast, she opened the door softly, uttered a faint shocked
cry, and ran inside.

Montclair, struggling frantically with the crutches, all but
fell into her arms, and she fought to keep her balance as she guided
him back to the windowseat.

"Of all the… idiotish… !" she panted, as he hopped, clinging
to her. "Will you be so good as to sit down?"

"I was going to try and come to you." He laughed breathlessly.
"But only think how… clever I am… Have I not managed to—lure you into
my arms… ?"

She was indeed in his arms. His thin pale face was smiling
down at her; he was holding her very close. Gazing up at him, she saw
the smile fade from the dark eyes. An intent look succeeded it. The
amber flecks were suddenly and devastatingly ablaze. His left hand
might be thin but it was like a vise on her arm.

'La, but I am a prize fool!' she thought, and terrified,
wrenched away so determinedly that he staggered, half collapsed onto
the windowseat, and uttered a small gasp.

"Well, I am very sorry if you have hurt yourself," she said
tremblingly. "But the fact that we allow you to stay here, sir, does
not—does not give you the right to—to maul me!"

Maul her! Was that how she thought of him? "Thank you," he
said, his voice glacial. "One supposes Imre Monteil does not rate such
a set-down!"

Susan caught her breath and stood very straight. "I think that
is not your concern, sir," she said, and walked quickly to the door.

"Think again, Susan!"

She halted and glanced over her shoulder.

Grim-faced, he was struggling with the crutches. Hesitating,
she said, "You have done enough today, surely."

In a swift change of mood, his wry half-smile flickered. "Yes,
but if I fall, there is always the chance you may rescue me again."

"Surely, the reward would scarce justify the cost, sir."

"Most assuredly—it
would
, ma'am."

She regarded him steadily, wondering why she was so weak-kneed
that she could not resist that tentative smile.

His good hand was stretched out imploringly. "Forgive. Please.
I had no right to say that about Monteil."

In some magical fashion she floated back to sit beside him.
"He has been very kind in finding work for my brother," she explained.
"The income means a great deal to us. Now why do you scowl so?"

"I was thinking that I am an additional charge on you. I hope
that my uncle has—"

"He has, so do not fret on that account."

His hand found hers. He asked softly, "About what
may
I fret, ma'am?"

Staring down at their clasped hands, she felt dreamily
content, and answering a foolish question as foolishly, murmured, "I
don't really know. But—you said you were coming to seek me."

"So I was! And it is a decidedly fretful matter! Whatever is
Lyddford about, to allow you to be accosted by every passing ruffian?"

She knew she should free her hand. While thinking about it,
she blinked at him and said, "Whatever do you mean?"

"I saw you talking to two gooseberry bushes on the drivepath.
It made me positively uneasy to see you bothered by such unsavoury
creatures."

Laughing, she recovered her wits, drew away, and said, "Oh,
you must mean my two new workmen."

"Good God! You were never bamboozled into hiring those two
rogues?"

"Those two
rogues
, sir, are veterans
wounded on the Peninsula while fighting for their country."

It was a sore point with Montclair that he had been unable to
join up. He said irritably, "And I suppose they gulled you into
believing they are starving and unable to find work."

"I am not easily gulled," she said, a frown coming into her
eyes. "And if you doubt there are such men, sir, you should have a
closer look at those who tramp the roads these days."

He well knew the bitter fate of many soldiers and sailors who
had fought gallantly for England and returned to face rejection and
starvation, but he argued contrarily, "Even so, there have been many
kind souls robbed and murdered by ex-servicemen. If Lyddford needs more
men, he should have the sense to appoint Deemer to handle the matter,
not expect a woman to know how to deal with such fellows."

Bristling, she retorted, "I have been obliged to deal with the
world for some years, Mr. Montclair, and am quite a good judge of
character, I promise you!"