Time's Fool (26 page)

Morris, who had retreated to stand looking out of the window, came back and leaned against the bedpost. “I caught some bounder trying to rob me, sir. Tackled the beastly fellow, but he had friends, unfortunately.”

“Simple robbery,” said Sir Mark, irritated.

“So simple they took very little, sir,” argued Gideon.

“Understandable. Morris says he interrupted the thieves.”

“Yes, that's so.” Morris was considerably daunted by his friend's formidable sire, but he said bravely, “But no one interrupted the men who attacked your groom when he went to fetch our belongings from the Red Pheasant.”

“Do you say,” demanded Sir Mark with a fierce scowl, “that these petty thefts, in none of which anything of much value was taken, are connected to the collapse of my bank and my companies, the destruction of my shipyard, my son's having been viciously beaten today? If so, sir, I'd be much obliged would you explain the connection to me, for I'll own myself too dense to make head nor tail of it all.”

Morris flushed, and stammered nervously, “Wish I c-could, sir. Never was much good at riddles.”

Gideon said, “Father, in each of these instances the rogues have referred to ‘the Squire,' and—”

“Well, what in thunder is so dashed unusual in that? I fancy my employees refer to me in the same fashion.”

“Yes, but—”

“Now listen to me, my boy. I've seen more of life than have you and I know blasted well 'tis full of the strangest coincidences. You have your work cut out to discover who is behind the plot to destroy me. Do not be turned aside by this other havey-cavey business. You were attacked this morning because you are coming close to the man who is behind it all.”

“I hope so, sir. But they
searched
me. Why? Unless it
is
part of the other affair and they think—”

Sir Mark gave a disgusted snort. “Of course they searched you. They were sent to frighten you off, but no common hireling is going to resist the chance of seizing a gentleman's rings, or purse, or whatever. You told me yourself that you're of the opinion someone mistakenly supposes you or Lieutenant Morris have brought home something of value.”

“Yes, but—”

“Then they have doubtless discovered their error, so don't maudle your mind with nonsense.” He started to the door, then hesitated, and came back to stand by the bed. “Gideon,” he said in a gruff voice, “I gather I am luckier than I realized in that you came back from Holland alive. I'd—er, I'd not see you killed, boy. You will take care?”

Touched, Morris said, “Never fear, sir. I'll keep an eye on the gudgeon.”

Sir Mark stared at him. “You cannot guess how that relieves my mind,” he said dryly.

*   *   *

“You would not dare!” Already wearing her ball gown, Katrina's eyes were wide, and she gazed at her friend in awe.

“Oh, yes she would, Miss Katrina,” said Maggie, coaxing a strand of Naomi's hair into a glowing ringlet. “It don't matter to my lady if folks says as I doesn't know how to send her out. When my lady's in a taking like this—”

“Oh, hush, you silly girl,” snapped Naomi, snatching the comb. “Go! Go! I shall manage my hair myself!”

Maggie threw her apron over her head and departed, wailing. Once in the hall, her wails ceased, and she smiled to herself. When my lady got over her pet and was full of remorse (as she always was, the sweet soul), there would be a gift offered in repentance for her harshness. It would be the lavender cap this time, thought Maggie happily. My lady never had much cared for it, but it would look lovely with her own new Sunday gown. And if a certain first footman, by the name of Mr. Robert Hinton, come creeping round with his saucy words and saucier hands, he'd discover that ladies with caps of lavender silk and lace could look so high as they wanted! She tripped along the hall, humming softly.

Naomi was also humming, turning the mirror this way and that as she studied the back view of her coiffure. Maggie really had performed her usual magic, and the clustered curls looked rather nice. “I see no reason,” she said loftily, “why everyone must be the same. There is no law says we all must wear powder, is there?”

“There is no law which says a gentleman must fight an he is insulted. But they all do.”

“Precisely. Gentlemen are so many silly sheep, which is not to say I shall be the same.”

Katrina said quietly, “Then, alas, you must judge me also a silly sheep.”

At once contrite, Naomi flew to hug her. “Oh, but I am a horrid cat! I wonder you bear with me! Your hair looks divinely in that silver powder. But then
you
would look divinely were you to go bald in public!”

Laughing, Katrina said, “Do not even
think
such a thing! And your auburn hair is truly glorious, Naomi. I fancy you will be the rage of the ball, and poor Captain Rossiter scarce see you the entire evening.”

“One can but hope,” muttered Naomi, returning to the dressing table and fastening an emerald necklace about her white throat. Gideon had been used to say the nicest things about the colour of her hair … She caught herself in a sigh, and smothered it hurriedly. “I declare,” she said, “between my wretched escort tonight, and this miserable business about my slipper, I am all a'twitter! Everyone is whispering and trying to guess
who
the wicked lady is, and
how
her slipper chanced to fall from an upstairs window…! Oh, Trina! Why must people have such horrid minds?”

“Only some people, dearest. And after all, nobody knows 'tis your slipper. If you can but get another made before—”

“How can I? You may be sure all the gabblemongers are watching the shoemakers like hawks. I do not dare go myself to Mr. Painton's shop, and no matter whom I sent, or how much I paid, the news would leak out, and I should be judged again, when I did nothing more than—”

“Than come near to breaking your pretty neck, and in such foolish cause! Truly Naomi, if August knew—”

“Lud!” Whirling about Naomi gasped, “You'd not tell him?”

“Of course not. And if he did know, he would censure you privately, but never betray you. The one you've to outwit, my love, is Mrs. Golightly.”

“Samantha? Heavens! Why?”

“Do you not recall? She was in Painton's when you gave him the order for the slippers. She may not have noticed, but—”

“Oh!
Oh
!” moaned Naomi, sinking her face into her hands. “I had quite forgot. That horrid girl has always loathed me! She was fairly mad for Gideon before I went to Italy, and I heard she made herself into a proper figure of fun, flirting with him at parties after I was gone.” She glanced up with a tragic air, saw Katrina staring curiously, and added a hurried, “Not that I give a button for that, of course. But—oh, Trina! She is sure to be there tonight. An she asks me where my jewelled slippers are…!”

“She'd not be so pushing, surely? Oh, dear! She would! My poor Naomi! Whatever shall you do?”

“Bluff my way, I suppose. Somehow. But people will be eager to believe her, does she spread the word. And he— Everyone will say I am a … guttersnipe.” For a moment she looked so crushed that Katrina was aghast, then the proud little head tossed up, the drooping mouth curved to a defiant smile. “A pox on the lot of 'em! I must prepare for the arrival of my knight-errant. And pray he'll not come wearing a coat five years behind the fashion!”

A footman came with several corsages. A darkly red rose set in a filigreed silver holder; a tiny bouquet of cornflowers and baby's breath; another of dainty pink roses; a delicate cluster of lily-of-the-valley and maidenhair fern. “Oh, this one is perfect!” exclaimed Katrina, taking up the lily-of-the-valley, and glancing at the card.

“Yes, indeed,” said Naomi, pleased. “Who sent it?”

She saw her friend's face fall, and scowled. “Then I shall wear the red rose! 'Twill make a nice contrast.”

Half an hour later, watching as she descended the staircase, Rossiter caught his breath. Her
robe à la Francaise
was a shimmering sweep of palest green and silver brocade, cut very low in the bust, the stomacher emphasizing her tiny waist. The hem of the green satin underdress was caught up into deep scallops. Her unpowdered head was held regally high, the candlelight awaking flashes of dark red fire from amongst the rich brown of the glistening curls. As she drew nearer, she studiously avoided looking at him, her averted and disdainful face giving him the chance to study the delicate curve of her cheek, the firm little chin, the vivid, shapely mouth. Surely, someone so lovely could not be faithless and immoral?

At the fourth step from the bottom, Naomi lifted her eyes to look without marked delight at her escort. Despite her rather unkind remark to Katrina, she knew Gideon well enough to be assured that his appearance would not disgrace her. She had not, however, been prepared for the sight of him in full regimental evening dress, and to see him standing there, tall and straight, his cloak flung back from one shoulder, his tricorne under his arm, his fine eyes fixed on her face, momentarily struck all power of movement from her.

They stood there, gazing at each other. Two people once ineffably beloved, now separated by an impregnable barrier of hurt and disillusion.

Naomi gave herself a mental shake and started down once more, lifting her panniers slightly.

Enchanted, Gideon saw the candlelight glint on the emerald buckles of her slippers. Just as the light had caught her slippers at the Dowling Soiree, when she'd turned on the stairs after tossing the bouquet! He had a clear picture of his brother, flourishing a jewelled slipper and sneering, “The lady who lost this at the Dowling Soiree left her reputation behind…” And the dear illusion shattered. He thought achingly, ‘Naomi … Naomi…' and heard his own voice say coldly, “Good evening, ma'am. I fancy you relish this no more than do I.”

My lady shrugged. “There will not be the need for us to do more than arrive and leave together.”

A footman came up to offer her cloak. Rossiter took it, and disposed the garment about Naomi's shoulders. Handing her onto the terrace steps, knowing he was moving awkwardly, he glanced at the vivid rose pinned to her bodice. “How charming. A nice contrast.”

“Is it not?” One slim finger touched the glowing bloom. “I received several posies, but alas, one cannot wear them all. La, but I am remiss! You were so kind as to send me a corsage, also. Such pretty cornflowers. I thank you, sir.”

He thought, ‘She knows perfectly well that I sent lily-of-the-valley, which she always loved,' but he said, “I am only grateful you noticed my poor offering, ma'am. So often the delicate is overwhelmed by”—he glanced again at the red rose—“the ostentatious.”

“But I do not consider cornflowers in the slightest ostentatious,” she said, opening her eyes at him.

“I am very sure that a lady with your experience of the world knows quite well which flowers compliment her—personality,” he riposted.

“Oh, yes,” she murmured, showing him all her teeth and longing to sink them into his neck.

He was assisting her into the carriage, then. A rented carriage, obviously, and with dreadfully hard and uncomfortable seats. Gritting her teeth, Naomi thought it was all of a piece, and that the evening would likely continue to deteriorate.

As it transpired, her worst fears paled before reality. By the time they reached Laindon House, she was convinced that Rossiter had drunk his dinner. He sat opposite her in the farthest corner of the coach, said not a word, and surreptitiously braced himself against the side each time the vehicle turned a corner, as though fearing he would tumble from the seat. ‘Twill be famous,' she thought bitterly, ‘an he falls down in a drunken stupor in the middle of the reception line!'

He descended from the coach in a stiff and ungraceful fashion, and having handed her down, walked across the carpeted flagway as though he could scarce manage to set one foot before the other, causing her to give an inward moan of apprehension.

Predictably, once inside the great house, they were the object of much attention. Heads turned their way, fluttering fans covered chattering lips, even as amused eyes left little doubt as to whom was being discussed. Naomi was embraced, smiled upon, and gushed over. How daring of her to disdain powder. And her hair was simply adorable, so she must not regard what people would say. But of course, ha, ha, ha, that had never weighed with The Lutonville! The eyes of the ladies slipped past her, to rest upon her escort with scorn or speculation, and not a few with surprised admiration. That was because of the uniform, of course, thought Naomi, for despite his infamy it became him. The stares of the gentlemen were less kind, but they were frustrated also, because however much they despised the Rossiters, they could not very well insult a fellow guest wearing their country's uniform.

The Earl of Bowers-Malden, impressive in black and gold, bowed over Naomi's hand and told her she looked ravishing. His large and outspoken countess smiled and murmured that she was “a brave gel,” then turned to Rossiter. “And you also, Gideon,” she said. “Are you fit to be here?”

‘Most definitely—not!' thought Naomi.

“Good question,” quipped someone audibly.

Over several barely subdued sniggers, Rossiter said, “Very fit, thank you, ma'am. And proud to accept your hospitality.”

They were through the line then. He started to extend his arm, but paused, noting the eager gallants who were already converging upon them. “You would doubtless prefer me to leave you to your—admirers, my lady.”

Naomi managed a laugh, and rapped him lightly with her fan. “Do you imply you are not among 'em?” she said coquettishly. “Fie upon you, sir! Have you no chivalry?”

“'Course he ain't, delightful damsel,” simpered a tall young exquisite, shouldering Rossiter aside, then recoiling sharply. “The devil!” he exclaimed, indignant.