Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns (16 page)

''Can you mean the Sorbonne, perhaps?"

''Yes, that's the place."

Briefly, his long fingers covered the small hand on his arm.
He said
huskily, "How kind you are. Thank you. That was my dream, certainly.
But—life has a way of rearranging dreams, alas." He paused, as if again
viewing a past only he could see, then he said brightly, "Do not be
thinking me a failure, however. A few friends are willing to let me
play for them now and then. Mr. Fox doesn't mind, and Orpheus is a true
afficionado." His eyes met hers. He said with a little hesitancy, "If I
dare believe that my music has pleased you, then I have scored a—a true
triumph."

''It has indeed pleased me, Major. Now, do you mean to tell me
who was inside the manor?"

Gazing down at her, he muttered, "What? Oh! My man has
returned.
MacDougall is my good friend as well as my servant. You must come and
meet him. He's going to fetch tea into the garden for us."

Amused by his proprietary air, she said, "That would be nice,
but I
wonder what Lord Temple and Cloud would think of us trespassing on his
property like this?"

''Oh, I doubt he would object."

''Easy to say, sir. But suppose he should come riding in this
very moment? Then what would you say?"

''I would likely be speechless with astonishment. To the best
of my
knowledge no peer of the realm has set foot on the place for more than
a decade."

''He has been abroad, so I was told. But I should warn you
that he is back in London and likely to come down here very soon."

''Really?" He looked at her thoughtfully, then asked, "Will
this suit for our tea party, ma'am?"

A blanket had been spread on the weedy turf that once had been
lawns, and a sturdy, rather dour-looking man, probably in his late
forties and very neat in a dark brown habit, was setting a laden tray
on a stool.

''Oh, lovely," said Marietta, undaunted by thick mugs, a tin
teapot, and a chipped plate piled with bread and butter.

Diccon said wryly, "Far from a fashionable party, I'm afraid.
But I think you'll find the tea worthwhile."

''However illegal," she murmured. "But never fear, I have
lived in Sussex long enough to ask no questions."

''In which case you may enjoy your tea with a clear
conscience. Over
here, Mac! I must make you known to Miss Marietta Warrington. Micah
MacDougall, ma'am. Sir Lionel Warrington and his family are leasing the
dower house, Mac. And you had best set me straight on something since
you know all the ton gossip. Is Lord Temple and Cloud in London?"

Having jerked a stiff bow to the young beauty who smiled at
him so
charmingly, MacDougall directed a level stare at his master. "Tae the
best o' my knowledge, Major, he isnae."

Marietta said, "If he has left Town it must be all the more
likely he means to come here, no?"

''Nae, Miss Warrington. I fancy Lanterns willnae see Lord
Temple and
Cloud again. I'll tend tae the hacks, sir." A curt bow and the Scot
strode away.

Marietta sat on the blanket and looked after him curiously.

''I wonder how he could possibly know that. Servant hall
gossip?"

''Undoubtedly. It spreads like wildfire and is usually
infallible."

Perhaps it was, she thought, yet it did not match what Sir
Gavin Coville and his son had said.

Diccon sat beside her and she poured the tea, spread damson
jam on a
thick slice of bread and butter, and, perhaps because she was out in
the clear sunlit air, found both exceptionally delicious. The moments
flew while they chatted easily, discovering a shared love of children
and music, the paintings of that rather odd but brilliant gentleman,
Joseph Turner, and a difference of opinion over the prospect of a
steamship ever crossing the Atlantic Ocean without sails, which
Marietta thought unlikely and Diccon was sure would be accomplished
within a few years. After a short companionable silence, she asked if
he really was at Lanterns to try and find the legendary
Sigh
of Saladin,
and what he knew of it.

''Not a great deal," he admitted. "You may be sure I'd be
delighted
to find the pretty thing, but what I was able to learn is very likely
one part fact and ninety-nine parts fiction. When you consider how
rumours fly around London Town and are embellished and enlarged upon in
only a few hours, you can imagine how a tale would become distorted
over six centuries."

''But legend says that it is a picture comprised entirely of
gems and framed in solid gold—true?"

He nodded. "Supposedly captured from under Saladin's nose by
Lord
Simon Cloud during the Third Crusade, brought to Lanterns, and then
lost again while the manor was under attack by the French. Some stories
have it that Saladin himself sent emissaries here to try and retrieve
it."

Refilling his cup, she said, "With his great wealth, I wonder
that
the sultan would have gone to so much trouble over one small picture."

''Because it was a national treasure, ma'am. Entrusted to his
keeping. He was reputed to be a proud and honourable gentleman and
counted it a shameful blot on his character that he had failed his
trust. That is why they named it
The Sigh of Saladin
,
you see."

She finished her tea and was quiet for a little while,
drowsily
content, thinking of the mighty sultan and the treasure he had lost.
She roused when Diccon waved a bee from her hair. "I wonder," she said,
"if it will ever be found."

''If it is, the finder will be a very wealthy man. And his
children
and grandchildren after him, I'd guess." He added with a grin, "If he's
not murdered for it! Only find an object of great beauty and you also
find an army of cut-throats ready to take it away."

''You
had
to spoil the romance! And I
must get home, Major."
Smiling, she reached out and he sprang up to help her to her feet. She
asked, "Are you sure you won't stay with us for another few days? You
cannot be very comfortable here."

He thanked her, but said that MacDougall could make a frozen
ditch
comfortable, and that he had work that must be done. He insisted on
riding back with her, however. She said little on the return journey,
and he suspected she was thinking of the lost
Sigh of
Saladin.

Actually, Marietta's thoughts were on Sir Gavin Coville and
his son.
If their suspicions were true and Temple and Cloud really did mean to
come to Lanterns, Major Diccon could very well be in great trouble. To
trespass in a peer's home would be punishable by transportation, at
least. And if his lordship should discover Diccon's smuggling
activities, the death penalty would certainly be imposed. She stole a
glance at the man beside her. He rode with lithe ease and appeared to
be relaxed but she experienced again the sense of leashed power. In his
business he had undoubtedly learned how to take care of himself. Yves
had said that the Major "should have been dead many times" but always
survived. She hoped fervently that his luck would continue.

They rode into the stableyard at the dower house and Diccon
swung from the saddle, and walked around to lift her down.

A familiar voice called her name. Marietta's heart gave a
little
leap and she turned to see Blake Coville stride across the yard to
greet her.

His eager look faded into an almost ludicrous disbelief.
Staring at Diccon, he cried, "
You
! I thought you
were still at your friend's convent!"

Turning in bewilderment, Marietta saw that Diccon's head was
high,
and on his face the forbidding hauteur she had seen when first they
met. He said icily, "I am very sure you did!"

'You are—acquainted?" asked Marietta.

'To my sorrow, ma'am," said Diccon. "I suppose I should have—"

''Allow me to present my step-brother," shouted Coville with
fierce
hostility. "The ignoble Mallory Diccon Paisley, Lord Temple and Cloud!"

It seemed to Marietta that for an instant everything was as if
frozen. The mellow sunlight was as bright, the sky as deeply blue,
while they all stood like so many statues: Coville slightly crouching,
his face distorted with passion; Diccon straight and proud, his eyes
meeting her shocked gaze steadily; Aunty Dova, who had come out onto
the back step, smiling an empty smile.

Finding her voice somehow, Marietta said threadily, "It's not
true! It cannot be true! You couldn't… you
wouldn't
lie to us like that."

''Oh, would he not!" Striding to face his step-brother Coville
demanded, "Where is she, you merciless rogue? What have you done with
Lady Pamela?"

Ignoring him, Diccon said, "Miss Warrington, I have not lied
to you, I only—"

''Attend me, damn you!" shouted Coville.

Diccon's eyes narrowed and turned on him, glinting oddly. He
said with soft but ineffable menace, "You had best hope I do not."

Coville drew back a little, then, to Marietta's astonishment,
turned and ran past Mrs. Cordova and into the house.

''He has gone to get his courage," said Diccon contemptuously.
"Miss
Warrington, if I did not tell you everything about myself, it was—"

She felt betrayed and foolish, and deeply hurt, and she
interrupted, "It was
deliberate
deception from
the start! You knew very well who I was and where we lived!"

''No."

'You said your name was Diccon."

''So it is. Your father did not give me time to finish my
introduction, and—"

''You neglected to add the rest of it! Why? To amuse yourself?
You
stayed in our home, pretending to be a poverty-stricken free-trader,
and all the while knowing you
own
this house! Did
you enjoy laughing at us? Was that a
very
funny joke, Major? Ah, but I forget, your rank is only another of your
lies! Mr. Williard's groom named you sergeant, and I was so trustingly
stupid as to believe—"

''No!" He caught her by the arms and said desperately,
"Listen! Marietta, you
must
listen! I've been—"

She wrenched free. "Do not
dare
to touch
me! Will you deny telling me this
very afternoon
that no peer had visited Lanterns for many years?"

''No, but—"

''Do you deny that your ancestral title is Lord Temple and
Cloud?"

His lips tightened. He said stormily, "If you will stop firing
off accusations at me, and listen for—"

''Stand away from him, ma'am!"

Mrs. Cordova had gone. Blake Coville stood alone on the steps,
a long-barrelled duelling pistol aimed steadily at Diccon's back.

Horrified, Marietta cried, "Don't! Oh, for pity's sake—do
not
!"

Without so much as a glance at Coville, Diccon said, "Never
fear,
Miss Marietta, it's just so much bravado. He'd not dare shoot me."

''Do not refine on that," said Coville grittily. "If you don't
tell
me what you've done with Lady Pamela, I'll be more than justified to—"

''To shoot me in the back? And before ladies?" Diccon swung
around
and began to walk slowly towards that deadly muzzle. "You're very free
with your unproven accusations. Now try if you've the gumption to shoot
an unarmed man while you look him in the eye!"

Coville set his teeth and took aim.

Watching his face, her breath held in check, Marietta suddenly
ran forward and threw herself between the two men.

Startled, Coville's grip tightened instinctively.

Diccon threw Marietta aside even as the shot fragmented the
silence.
The ball burned a hole through his sleeve. With a leap he was atop the
steps. His left hand smashed the pistol from Coville's grasp; his
right, in a hard backhanded swipe, sent the man sprawling. "Murderous
carrion!" he snarled, and ran to help Marietta to her feet, then grip
her shoulders and shake her hard. Through his teeth, he said, "Do not—
ever
—do
such a stupid thing again! Are you all right?"

Shocked and enraged, her voice was shrill as she answered, "No
thanks to your silly heroics! Accusing
me
of
stupidity, when
you
walked straight at a loaded
gun! If ever I heard of such—"

''What a'God's name are you about?" Sir Lionel burst from the
kitchen
followed by his sister-in-law and a white-faced Fanny. "Fighting before
ladies? Have you
quite
forgot your manners,
gentlemen?"

Running to throw her arms about her sister, Fanny asked, "Are
you hurt, dearest?"

Marietta shook her head, but clung to her, trembling from the
reaction.

Over-riding Diccon's attempt to respond, Sir Lionel shouted,
"I will ask that you leave my house at once, Major!"

Coville picked himself up and said, "You'd best have a care,
sir, or his lordship might revoke your lease."

Sir Lionel stared at him.

Mrs. Cordova danced down the steps and sang in her shrill
wavering
voice, "Our Diccon is a baron; an old name and proud. Our Diccon,
brother dear, is Lord Temple and Cloud."

'Wh-what… ?" gasped Sir Lionel, his eyes goggling. 

"And his lordship
is just leaving," said Marietta. Diccon scanned her scornful face and,
without another word, mounted up and rode from the yard.

''I never trusted him," declared Fanny with vehemence. "Never!"

Marietta, who was already tired of that remark, said nothing.

''That is because you are afraid of him," said Mrs. Cordova,
knowingly. "You have something of me in you, my love. You can sense the
danger of the man."

A small fire had been lit in the drawing room and the three
ladies
were gathered around the hearth. Blake Coville and Sir Lionel were
still in the dining room, lingering over their wine and cheese. Coville
had blamed his loss of control on his anxieties for Lady Pamela
Coville, and admitted shamefacedly that he should never have brought
the pistol outside with ladies present. He had not meant to shoot, he
insisted, but the hair-trigger needed only the slightest pressure and
when Marietta had run in front of him, the shock had caused his grip to
tighten just sufficiently to make it fire. He knew his conduct had been
reprehensible and could easily have resulted in a tragedy. The very
thought unmanned him, and he'd apologized so humbly to Marietta that
tears had come into his eyes. He had been forgiven and invited to stay
for dinner, an invitation he'd accepted gladly.