Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns (25 page)

Diccon knew that dreamy look. Incredulous, he shook his head.
"So
soon? Ye Gods! Can I believe it? You've found another 'one and only'!"

''I've found the
only
one, rather. Oh, I
know you're not in
the petticoat line, but how can you live so near to the exquisite Miss
Warrington and not have noticed how glorious she is?"

For a moment Diccon watched him levelly and in silence. Then
he said quietly, "She is much admired."

''Admired! She should be besieged by men who would adore her!
Worship
her! Be honest now—have ever you seen such a beautiful lady?"

''Once. A long time ago."

Remorseful, Vaughan exclaimed, "Gad, what a clumsy clod I am!
My apologies, old fellow! I shall say no more about it."

Diccon gave a dismissive gesture, and there came a muffled
grunt from the sink.

Typically, Vaughan was able to control his exuberance for only
a
moment, then he burst out: "But having loved, you can understand how I
feel, can't you? Those sparkling eyes. The shapeliness of her. The
pretty way she has with her little laugh, and her soft voice. Can you
wonder that I took one glance— well, very few—and was enchanted? She is
a fairy-tale princess, personified!"

Diccon wandered over to push more wood into the stove, then
stood gazing down at it.

Very quiet now, MacDougall turned from the sink and watched
him.

''Do you mean to court her?" asked Diccon.

''I mean to win her! And I shall! Uncle John and Salia will
adore her, don't you agree?"

''Yes."

''And she will love Greenwings, surely?"

''It's a beautiful old place."

Vaughan glanced at his friend's broad shoulders uneasily. "You
have
reservations, I think. Oh, Jupiter! Is she bespoken? Have I formidable
competition? I'd the strongest feeling that she was as much affected as
I."

Diccon's fist clenched hard. "Of course you have competition,"
he
said harshly, turning to face the dismayed younger man. "You saw her
beauty and her gentleness. Did you also have time to consider her
courage? Did you stop to think how hard it has been for a gently
bred-up girl to be reduced to living in near poverty? To have to juggle
duns and try to outmanoeuvre an irresponsible brother and a foolish
spendthrift father? I think her greatest fear is that she may not be
able to keep them all together, but thus far she has contrived, and
managed also to keep a cheerful spirit and not go about bemoaning her
lot. She is as valiant as she is beautiful, and she deserves the best,
Joss. The man to claim her must offer her comfort and a release from
worry and care. And above all—undying love and constancy."

Astonished, Vaughan exclaimed, "Be dashed! Who'd have
suspected a
fire-eater like you to spare a thought for such things? I'm glad you
approve. At least…" His brow wrinkled suddenly. "I think you approve.
Was that a low lance you just hurled? About—constancy? I may have
fancied myself in love a time or two, but—"

''Or a dozen!"

A frosty note came into Vaughan's voice. "You have a list,
perhaps?"

''Devil I do! But from what I've heard there was a beauty in
Spain—something to do with a bullfighter, I think St. Clair said. And
several other 'one and onlys' whilst you were in the cavalry. Then came
the beauty Rich Saxon eventually married—"

''Felicity Russell," said Vaughan, grim-lipped now, and coming
to his
feet to stand very straight, as though in a tribunal. "And Alicia
Wyckham, whom I would have wed, only she changed her mind. I know now
that I gave my heart to not one of those lovely creatures. Nor did any
of them suffer at my hands, I promise you. Can you claim as much?"

The flush drained from Diccon's face leaving him very pale.
For a
moment the guards were down and his eyes betrayed him. He ducked his
head and turned away. "No," he said in a hoarse half-whisper. "You
are—perfectly right and—"

But Vaughan had seen that stricken look, and with a muffled
exclamation he sprang to clap an arm about the other man's shoulders.
"I had no right at all! I'm a hasty-tempered, brawling maggot-wit and
don't deserve my friends. You know my faults and naturally fear for the
lady… and—" Glancing past Diccon, he encountered MacDougall's eyes. The
Scot, he knew, had always liked him, and the glare that was scorched at
him now struck like a physical blow and shocked him into belated
comprehension.

He drew back, and looking at Diccon's averted face, demanded,
"All
right. Let's have cards on the table. Who else courts the lady?"

Diccon sat down and said wearily, "Among others, my
stepbrother, Blake Coville."

''Deuce take it! Is that make-bait lurking about here?"

''Yes. And about her. And there are a couple of other fellows.
Neither fit to wipe her shoes, but one has money. Her father favours
Coville." He gave a short and bitter laugh. "Thinks he's plump in the
pockets."

''Ain't he?"

''He was. But he's a gamester. I suspect he's under the
hatches. I
doubt Sir Gavin knows that. At all events," he forced a smile, "you are
the most eligible bachelor, Joss. I wish you— the best of luck."

''You lying rogue!" growled Vaughan. "You do nothing of the
sort! You love her yourself!"

Diccon linked his hands between his knees and stared down at
them, saying nothing.

MacDougall growled and strode forward, the long paring knife
glittering in his hand.

''And your Scottish humbug knew it!" accused Vaughan bitterly.
"Are
you going to let him slit my gizzard with that potato peeler, Diccon?"

''Don't be a fool. He wouldn't dream of it."

''Aye. I would, that," argued MacDougall his aspect fiercer
than
ever. "Sooner than let this pretty stripling come 'twixt yersel' and
the lassie!"

Vaughan uttered a strangled howl. His face flaming with rage,
he leapt at the Scot. "Damn you! How
dare
you
call me—"

MacDougall sprang to meet him, the knife flying upward.

In a lithe uncoiling, Diccon was between them. A twist and a
heave,
and Vaughan hurtled across the table and took it down with him.
Diccon's fingers clamped around the Scot's wrist. "Drop it!"

All the fierce pride of his fighting clan was in MacDougall's
blazing eyes. The grip around his wrist tightened inexorably, but he
would not release the blade. Diccon said softly, "Please, Mac." A smile
crept into his eyes and he added, "He can't help it, you know. I think
the poor cawker was born in a volcano."

MacDougall had never been able to resist that half-smile. He
grunted, and the knife clattered to the floor. "It's yersel' means tae
step aside wi'oot a fecht, then, is it?"

''I've never had the right to address Miss Warrington, much
less fight for her hand."

''Mon, ye addrrress her every time ye look at her!"

Vaughan crawled back into view, and peered blearily over the
edge of
the table. "That was a deuced fine… toss, Major, sir," he panted.
Where'd you—where'd you learn it?"

''From one of Claude Sanguinet's Lascar cut-throats in Dinan."
Diccon
helped him to his feet. "My apologies. But I don't have many friends.
Can't afford to have them killing each other."

Dour and silent, MacDougall righted the table.

Diccon steered Vaughan into a chair and asked, "Do you mean to
call me out, Joss?"

Vaughan sighed heavily. "I rather suspect we're at Point
Non-Plus. I can't in honour court my friend's chosen lady."

Diccon looked down at him and knew that here was a man worthy
in
every respect to marry his beloved. Young, thoroughly decent,
courageous, handsome, and with a large fortune. The urge to strangle
him was strong, which was pure dog-in-the-manger selfishness. It was
not impossible for Vaughan to have formed an immediate and lasting
attachment. If he himself really loved her—and Lord, how he loved
her!—he should be rejoicing at her opportunity to make what everyone
would consider a brilliant match.

He was, he discovered, incapable of such saintly behaviour,
and it
was as much as he could do to admit, "My own case is quite hopeless,
Joss, else I promise you I'd fight for her every step of the way.
But—if I must lose her, I couldn't wish to lose to a better man."

'Thank you kindly," said Vaughan acidly. "But I've no wish to
win by
default." He frowned. "Of course, you are a—er, a touch old for her,
and that might—"

''Nine yearrrs isnae a major gulf," growled MacDougall.

''Nine? Why, if she's a day over nineteen, I'll—"

"
What
?" gasped Diccon, his head jerking
up.

''Hoot-toot! Tis Miss
Fanny
is the
laddie's one and only!" howled MacDougall.

Vaughan stammered, "Eh? You never supposed—?"

''You said 'Miss Warrington,' you block! Marietta's the elder."

''Oh. But you argued that she's so beautiful, and I thought
surely—"

''So she is, deuce take you! What—are you quite blind?"

''Well, I—er, I—" To each man his own vision, thought Vaughan,
and
said with rare tact, "I suppose once my eyes had rested on Miss Fanny,
I simply didn't see anyone else!"

MacDougall was at his elbow with a beaming grin, a mug, and a
bottle
of cognac. "Will ye no sluice some o' this over yer ivories,
Lieutenant?"

''By George, but I will!" said Vaughan.

''We all will!" With not a twinge of saintly regret that
Marietta had
just lost a splendid suitor, Diccon raised his mug. "A toast to your
good fortune in having found your true 'one and only,' Joss. And may
your courtship prosper!"

''And yours also," said Vaughan. They drank again and he
exclaimed, "Hi! I've had a thought!"

MacDougall lifted his glass willingly. "Losh, but we'll drink
tae that!"

''No—seriously," said Vaughan. "If I win my lovely lady,
your
lovely lady won't be obliged to marry for convenience, Diccon! Don't
you see? I'm perfectly able to support the family! And you needn't tell
me you're too destitute to be an acceptable parti! You may not claim
your title, but you've a fine old name, and I seem to recall your
mentioning once that you've a sizeable inheritance from your grandmama,
to say nothing of all that back pay still owing you! And only look at
this splendid estate. Oh, I know it's been let go to seed, but if you
was to turn it into a producing farm it would likely support you
comfortably. There! Our troubles are over!"

''If the lassies will hae either of ye," qualified MacDougall.

''Of course they will," said Vaughan. "How could they refuse
such a
dashing pair? I'll own I never expected to have a rascally free-trader
for a brother-in-law, but barring that complication, there's nought to
stand in our way! Here's to love and a pair of betrothals!"

Diccon echoed the toast heartily. The threatened barrier
between
them had disappeared, which was certainly a cause for rejoicing, and
not for the world would he throw a shadow over Vaughan's happiness. But
there were still formidable obstacles in his own path. Firstly, of
course, was the tragedy of his mama; and then, even if Vaughan was
accepted and the financial security of the Warringtons assured,
Marietta might not want Diccon Paisley for her husband. Furthermore,
the menace of the Swiss and his mighty killing machine, Ti Chiu,
remained, and Sir Gavin and Blake Coville had to be reckoned with. The
final and most potentially deadly threat was the newly arrived letter
now residing in his pocket. But perhaps he was borrowing trouble. More
than likely his suspicions were completely unjust. They had better be
unfounded, by heaven! They must be!

''If you was to ask me, miss," said Mrs. South, leaning over
the
counter of her tiny haberdashery and post office and speaking in a
hushed voice, "that queer foreign lady takes advantage, expecting you
to collect her mail!"

Marietta had walked to Cloud Village on this cool morning to
buy
knitting wool and some buttons for Fanny's new evening gown. She took
up the two letters addressed to Madame Olympias in care of Sir Lionel
Warrington, and gave Mrs. South the three letters to be sent off. She
could not but feel deceitful when she replied excusingly that Madame
Olympias paid a generous rent in exchange for being allowed to leave
her caravan on dower house property. "All we really do in return is
keep an eye on the caravan and pick up her letters and messages."

''Aye, but it's an imposition, if I may be so bold as to say
it.
What's more, with all the open land round here, I don't see why that
there caravan has to be on Lanterns' property!"

''Why, Madame Olympias has to leave it somewhere safe, you
know. She is in Town most of the time."

''Even so, there's something very strange about that Madame,
if you
was to ask me. No one never sees her come. No one never sees her go.
And
where
do she come
from
or go
to
? Aha! There you
are then, ain'tcha! On top of my boy disappearing of hisself like that,
I mean! I wouldn't be surprised if—"

To Marietta's relief Mrs. South's surprise was forgotten when
Blake
Coville came in, ducking his curly head as he entered the little shop
and brightening it with his easy, assured charm. He dazzled Mrs. South
with a smile, and bowed to Marietta. He had chanced to catch sight of
her as he was driving through the village, he said, and nothing would
do but that he take her home.

The sky was acquiring a whitish look and the wind was a little
more
chill than she'd expected, and her shawl too light to provide much
warmth. Marietta accepted Coville's offer gladly, and made a mental
note that some story must be conjured up to shield her aunt from a
suspicion of witchcraft.

He carried out her small parcels and handed her into the
stylish
curricle. "What luck to have captured you!" he said with an air of
triumph.