Silk and Shadows (6 page)

"On the contrary, his manners are too good. He was waylaid by a tedious fellow who is obsessed with the subject of what prince would be a fit consort for your little Queen
Victoria
."

Sarah nodded. "Mr. Macaw. He is very difficult to escape."

"It is simple to get away from such fellows," the Kafir pronounced. "It is only necessary to be rude. Civilized manners are not at all an asset, you know."

"You and I could have some truly splendid arguments, Your Highness." Sara tried to look severe, but the corners of her mouth curved up and betrayed her. Though the prince was alarmingly attractive, he was also Ross's friend, and it seemed natural to treat him with informality. "What a pity that I am the hostess of this party, and can't spend the next hour convincing you that manners are essential to smooth the rough edges of life. Shall we find my cousin? Being overcivilized, I can't bring myself to abandon you in the midst of strangers."

The prince glanced across the crowd. "No need to search, for Lord Ross has finally escaped the dreaded Mr. Macaw."

A moment later, Ross reached them. "Sorry to have left you stranded, Mikahl."

"No matter," the prince said. "Your cousin had no trouble identifying me. She has been instructing me in manners, but fears it a hopeless task."

Ross smiled. "If Sara will consent to be your mentor, you could have no better guide to local customs."

Peregrine looked hopeful. "Will you mentor me, Lady Sara?"

She laughed. "
Mentor
is not a verb, but if you wish, I will be happy to advise you." More seriously, she continued, "Ross said that you saved him from two dangerous situations. I cannot do as much for you, but I will do whatever I can to make your stay in
England
a rewarding one."

With equal seriousness, he replied, "I am most grateful for your kindness. May I call on you tomorrow morning? I have many questions that I dare not ask Ross, for he has too little respect for society to give reliable answers."

"While I, conventional creature that I am, can always be counted on to know what is proper," Sara said wryly. "By all means call on me. After all, how can you enjoy the pleasures of outraging
London
if you do not know what is considered outrageous? I look forward to furthering our acquaintance."

Ross broke into their banter. "Sara, Sir Charles has just arrived, and should be with us in a moment."

She raised her gaze to look for her betrothed, but from the corner of her eye, she saw that the prince was also watching Weldon's approach. Since his face was profoundly still, why did she feel that silent lightning crackled around him?

"Sorry I'm late, my dear." Weldon bent to kiss Lady Sara's cheek, but Peregrine was interested to note a slight withdrawal on the part of the lady. No, it was not a love match, though the two exchanged easy greetings like a long-married couple.

Peregrine studied his enemy with hungry eyes. The years had been kind to Weldon, and he looked like what he was: a distinguished man of breeding and wealth. In his youth, charm and good looks had masked his true nature, and on the surface those qualities were still present. It took an astute eye to interpret his face correctly, but as Lady Sara had said, it was experience that made a man, and a lifetime of evil had engraved subtle lines of cruelty in Weldon's countenance.

Lady Sara's soft voice cut across his thoughts. "Charles, let me introduce you to Prince Peregrine of Kafiristan. He is newly arrived in
England
, and is probably the first man of his people ever to visit
Europe
. Your Highness, Sir Charles Weldon."

"I hope your visit is an enjoyable one, Your Highness. '' Weldon offered his hand with unthinking social ease. Then his gaze met Peregrine's and his expression changed, casualness giving way to puzzlement. "This is your first visit to
England
? I have the feeling we have met before."

As Peregrine accepted his enemy's hand, for a moment his vision darkened as the bonds that restrained his rage came perilously near to bursting. It would be easy, so easy to pull out his dagger and thrust it between Weldon's ribs. The Englishman's heart blood would surge hotly over Peregrine's hand, crimson retribution for the past. He would live just long enough to be told why he was dying…

With a fierce internal oath, Peregrine reined back his madness. Yes, executing Weldon now would be easy, but it would be too quick and painless a death. Besides, assassination would send him to the gallows and ruin Lady Sara's party.

Once more in control, Peregrine shook his enemy's hand with a pressure just short of inflicting pain, then released it. "Have you visited
India
, Sir Charles? Perhaps we met there, though I do not remember such an occasion."

At the sound of Peregrine's deep, accented voice, Weldon's expression cleared. "No, I've never been to
India
, and we have not met before. It is just that your eyes are such a distinctive color. I've only seen eyes so green once or twice before." After a brief hesitation, he added under his breath, "Once."

"Green eyes are not unusual among my father's people," Peregrine said smoothly. Then he offered the bait that would draw his enemy to him. "I am pleased to meet you, Sir Charles. Your reputation in the City of
London
is very high. I am interested in investing in this country. Perhaps, if you have the time, you would be so kind as to advise me?"

Greed overcame any disquiet Weldon might have. "Delighted to be of service. Perhaps we can dine at my club soon?"

"That would be my greatest pleasure." Peregrine found secret satisfaction in the fact that all his comments were double-edged.

As they set a date later in the week, the flaxen-haired girl who had been talking to Lady Sara earlier materialized between her ladyship and Weldon, and regarded the foreigner curiously.

Weldon said, "Prince Peregrine, this is my daughter Eliza."

"A
prince
?" The girl's blue eyes rounded with delight.

"Indeed I am, Miss Weldon." Peregrine's research had included Eliza Weldon. The girl's mother, Jane Clifton, had been the daughter of a rich city banker, and her inheritance had started Weldon on the path to wealth. The heiress had died three years ago, when her daughter was eight. Eliza had her father's good looks, but if she had also inherited his warped nature, that fact was not visible. She was just a pretty, uncomplicated child, impressed at meeting foreign royalty.

"Eliza, make your curtsy to the prince," Lady Sara said.

The girl dropped into a painstakingly correct curtsy. As Peregrine returned a deep, formal bow, he wondered idly what would become of her. No doubt Eliza had relatives who would see to her upbringing when her father was gone.

Lady Sara said, "If you will excuse us, Charles and I must speak with someone who has just arrived. I hope to see you again soon, Your Highness."

As Lady Sara turned and walked away, Peregrine saw that she walked with a slight hesitation, not quite a limp. Perhaps that had something to do with the ghosts of old pain that he saw in her eyes? He could ask Ross, but it would be more interesting to discover the truth on his own. No man or woman was civilized all the way through, and it would be intriguing to discover what untamed currents lay beneath the lady's calm surface.

As they made their way toward the bishop who was going to marry them, Charles remarked, "Interesting fellow, that prince. A friend of Lord Ross's, I assume?" When Sara nodded, he asked, "Is Kafiristan an Indian state?"

"No, it lies beyond
India
, in the mountains of the
Hindu Kush
," Sara explained. "The land is very wild and virtually unexplored by Westerners."

"He must be an unusual man to leave his mountains for the wider world," Charles murmured. "I gather he's wealthy?"

"Quite fabulously so, according to Ross. Apparently he started with a substantial fortune, and has multiplied it by trading throughout the Orient."

"The prince seemed taken with you, Sara. Encourage the acquaintance. He could be a valuable man to know."

"I have already agreed to advise him." Sara's voice was cool. It was one thing for Ross to ask her to sponsor his friend, another to have her future husband order her to cultivate a potential investor. But Charles wanted a gracious hostess who would enhance his status in the worlds of business and society; she could hardly object when he asked her to play that role.

The morning after her garden party, Sara was just finishing a late breakfast with her father when the butler entered, a bemused expression on his face. "Your ladyship, you have a visitor. He claims to be some sort of prince.''

"Good heavens," she said blankly. Then she laughed, feeling suddenly buoyant. "Father, would you like to meet the gentleman I was telling you about?"

Disapproval showed on the Duke of Haddonfield's cool aristocratic face. "Doesn't he know what proper calling hours are?"

"Obviously not. However, since everyone seems to want me to educate him, he soon will." Sara drained her coffee cup, then followed the butler.

The prince was looking out one of the windows when she entered the drawing room. Sara paused a moment to admire the way his dark, well-cut clothing emphasized his broad shoulders and lean body. One could only hope that more Kafirs would find their way to
England
.

Then he turned and gave her an enchanting smile. "I hope the time is not inconvenient? You did give me permission to make a morning call.''

She smiled and offered her hand. "I forgot to mention that morning calls are made in the afternoon."

As he straightened from bowing over her hand, the prince raised his thick black brows. "Morning calls occur in the afternoon? That is not logical."

"You must not expect society to be logical, Your Highness," Sara commented, then added the reminder, "The hand?"

"Ah, yes, it must be released." His green eyes sparkling, the prince relinquished Sara's hand.

"Why do I have the feeling that you are using your foreign status to be outrageous?" she asked, trying to sound severe.

"I have no idea. Perhaps you have a naturally suspicious mind," he replied, brimming with innocence. He thought a moment. "I could return this afternoon to make my morning call, but doubtless at that time your house will be full of others who are calling to express thanks for your estimable party. In such a crowd, you would have no time to correct my errors. That being the case, you should let me take you for a drive now, so you will have ample time to educate me."