Time's Fool (4 page)

“Because you know very well he would not approve, you saucy creature.”

Naomi's rich chuckle sounded. “Oh, he would have made a fuss and forbade me, I do not doubt. Now, he cannot, can he?”

Her friend shook her head. “Faith, but you never cease to astound me. You are so fearless. I should be quite terrified of his anger.”

“Perhaps because you are so gentle. August guards you like any fierce gladiator, and your papa adores you and I doubt has ever spoken to you in anger. My life has been … different.”

Miss Falcon saw the wistfulness that came into her friend's eyes, and her kind heart was touched.

Twenty years earlier, when Simon Lutonville was an impoverished younger son, living at the Manor on his brother's charity but with no expectations of ever becoming the Earl of Collington, two friends had stood by him. One of these had been Mr. Neville Falcon, and it was through his good offices that Lutonville had been appointed secretary to Count Leonardo Paviani, then one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the world of finance. Lutonville's gratitude to Falcon had kept the two families close for some years. Throughout her early childhood, Naomi had played with and adored Katrina, and had been teased by, and quarrelled with her domineering older brother. When Count Paviani returned to Italy, and Mr. Lutonville began to spend more time out of England than in it, he sent for his wife and two daughters, and the childhood friendship might have been forgotten had not Naomi and Katrina been faithful correspondents.

Remembering those letters and what she had thought to read between the lines, Katrina had seldom referred to the period of separation, and when she'd done so Naomi had been reticent and quickly changed the subject. Intuition whispered that her friend was troubled today, and reaching out to clasp her hand, Katrina asked, “Was it very bad, dearest? You never speak of those years in Rome.”

“Of course it was not bad.” Naomi's head tossed upward, but then she met Katrina's concerned gaze and her defences crumbled. She looked down at her plate and muttered, “It was horrid. I had lost you and—and all my friends.”

“Thank goodness that you had your sister, at least. Oh, la! I did not mean—”

“I know just what you meant, Trina,” said Naomi with a rueful smile. “And 'tis true that Joan and I were not close friends. Faith, but she gave me five years, and found me dull. Mama talked to me, but she never heard whatever I had to say. And Papa—well, you have seen how much he is changed.”

“Yes. But I had thought it was only since he became a peer and returned to England. Or that perhaps it was because—Well, August and I are not good
ton.
” She cut off Naomi's immediate and angry denial by remarking quickly, “How very lonely you must have been. I suspected that was so at first, but later your letters made it sound as though you had such a jolly time.”

“After dear Count Paviani died and made me one of his principal beneficiaries, I had a—” Naomi shrugged. “Oh, I suppose 'twas a jolly time. Certainly, it was better than the first year.” She gave a faint, defiant smile. “Even if it did win me a reputation for wildness.”

Katrina said hesitantly, “Your parents seem to have kept you so very close at first. Did they not put a check on you when you—er—”

“Flouted parental authority at last and began to make some friends of my own? When I sang with the crowds going to the opera? Or danced with Prince diFaggioli in the Colosseum in my ball gown? Oh, no. Papa laughed and said that when one is rich one can do anything. Besides, he was by then much too busy with success—and his Roman birds of paradise. And Mama—” She paused and was silent.

Katrina had long judged Mrs. Lutonville a beautiful but selfish lady, who was proud of her handsome husband but had not the slightest interest in her children. After a moment she said carefully, “She must surely have enjoyed the sunshine.”

“That alone, I think. She was miserable because of Papa's neglect of her, and very bored. When Joan married there was much to be planned, for it was a very large wedding, as you know. It gave Mama something to brighten her days, but—she soon lost interest. I sometimes thought she did not much care for being a mother. I wish she had…”

Katrina soothed, “Never mind, dearest. From what you wrote, Joan is quite settled in Rome. And although you have lost your dear mama, here you are safe back in England again, and only look, in less than a year you have become the Toast of London, and—”

“But I do not
want
to be a Toast! All I ever wanted was to—” She checked again, then, gripping her friend's hand very tightly said in a sort of desperation, “Oh, Trina, I do so envy you!”

With a gasp of astonishment, Katrina echoed, “Envy—
me
? Good gracious! Why? You are beautiful, admired, sought-after, and most comfortably circumstanced! How many offers have you received this year? A dozen? A score more like! I am ogled by the fortune hunters but few well-born gentlemen would offer more than a slip on the shoulder to a half-caste; the ladies tolerate me only for the sake of dear Papa; and I am—”

“You are
loved,
you silly goose! Do you not see? You are loved! For a while I thought—But
never
have I known … that wonder!”

Suddenly, there was such grief in the green eyes, such a note of pathos in the halting voice that Katrina was struck to the heart, and said tenderly, “We love you, dearest. August and I, and my father also.”

Naomi blinked rapidly, and recovering her poise, reached for the jam and said with a rather shaken chuckle, “August thinks I am a scamp, as well you know. And why you or your dear papa should care for me, I cannot think, after the way my father has served you.”

“
You
have never been unkind to us. And as for your papa, 'tis true he has become perhaps too grand for us, but he is very proud of
you,
I feel sure.”

“As one might be proud of a possession. But I am not his possession, do you see?”

“No, no! I did not mean that kind of pride! He loves you, of course.”

Naomi sank her white teeth into the warm scone, then said a rather muffled, “Stuff!”

“Naomi!”

“Well, it is, and you know it. No, be honest, Trina. Were I to expire this afternoon and August carried the word to my sire, he would interrupt his card game long enough to say,” she lowered her voice and growled, “What's that, Falcon? Begad, but 'tis a pity! Well, make your move, Abel! Don't take all night, man!”

Katrina looked, and was, scandalised. Glancing up, Naomi brightened. “Aha! Your grimly guardian makes his entrance, I see.”

“In time to hear you behaving like any hoyden, as usual,” came a deep voice from behind her, and August Falcon lowered his long length into the third chair.

“August, dearest,” she cried gaily, reaching out to him in her impulsive way. “Faith, 'tis lovely to see you!”

With unfailing grace he touched her fingers to his lips, but said, “Rubbish! I think you cannot find it ‘lovely' to see a ‘grimly guardian.'”

She did find it lovely, although at times she would have been hard pressed to explain why, for Falcon was not an easy man to like. Many women found him irresistible, but an early tendency towards sarcasm had deepened over the years, his caustic tongue alienating those few gentlemen in Society willing to befriend him despite his unfortunate birth. His unpopularity was increased by his immutable refusal to approve applicants for the hand of his sister. The contempt and finality with which he dismissed all comers, even gentlemen of breeding and fortune, had driven three stricken and insulted admirers to call him out. They had all recovered, but the speed and ease with which they were vanquished had discouraged others. And although he was by this time as disliked as he was despised, men trod softly around Mr. August Falcon.

“An I am truly glad to see you,” said Naomi, twinkling at him, “'tis because I am as gracious as you are odious. And you must not make a repulsive response, dear August, for Katrina has but now been vowing how much you love me.”

He raised one eyebrow and said dryly, “My sister has a soft area of the brain that tends to interfere with her occasional common sense.” He took the cup an amused Katrina handed him, and went on: “I believe in Ovid one may read that ‘love is a kind of warfare.' Since I have no more use for the one than for the other, you may draw your own conclusions, Lady Lutonville. I trust you will not fall into a decline.”

“Alas,” moaned Naomi, throwing one hand to her brow despairingly. “All is lost! I must put a period to my wretched existence. Woe is me! Though, I guessed how t'would be.”

“Did you. I should like to know how you also guessed that I was coming up behind you just now. Am I allowed a scone?”

Katrina scolded that he did not deserve one. But Naomi chuckled and passed the plate, telling him that guessing had played no part in her remark. “I
knew
you were coming because the eyes of every woman in the room turned this way.”

“Do you mean to talk nonsense,” he said with disgust, “I shall leave you.”

She laughed. “You have only to look about you for confirmation of my ‘nonsense.'”

He had no need to do so. His riding habit of dark grey broadcloth might have been plain on another man but served only to accent the commanding height and perfect physique that were allied to features as handsome as his sister's were beautiful. He had the same high and broad cheekbones and thin chiselled nose. Unlike Katrina's, his complexion was inclined to be sallow, but the dark blue eyes were as brilliant and thickly lashed and had the same faintly alien slant. The resemblance ended there, however, for his lips were thinner, his flaring black brows and stubborn chin betrayed a tempestuous nature, and his expression was cold and forbidding. He had been on the Town since he was nineteen, and the ensuing ten years had made him quite aware of his power over the fair sex. He selected his paramours with care, often from the dancers of the Opera, and none lasted longer than six months. But for the more cultured ladies, whose flirtatious and admiring glances invariably followed him, he had only scorn.

“Do not tease him, dearest,” pleaded Katrina, passing her brother the jam pot. “You will put him out of humour.”

“Goodness me! Are you
in
humour, August? You might have told me so.”

“You have the disposition of a shrew, my lady,” he riposted. “Do but continue along the same lines and you may yet win me.”

Both ladies laughed merrily. Naomi said, “No, Trina is right. I must not tease you, for truly I am very glad to see you both. So glad in fact, that I mean to kidnap you away to Collington and will hear no arguments, sirrah, so you had as lief say yes at once!”

“No. And do not be giving yourself airs. You may be the most talked-about heiress in London Town, but you're still a grubby little brat to me! And your conversation when I came up just now, was improper in the extreme. Such a way to speak of your father!”

She sipped her tea, watching him over the brim of her cup, then said lightly, “Since you so admire him, you will want to come and see the great man.”

“Nothing of the kind,” he contradicted rudely, spreading strawberry jam with a lavish hand. “And I think the earl will thank us for not desecrating his doorstep.”

Naomi saw Katrina flinch at this, and said frowningly, “I think you have never been turned away from Collington.”

“So long as your father was profitably engaged with mine, no.” He glanced at her from under his lashes. “The great god Mammon can render anyone acceptable.”

“Now you are being horrid, August!”

“Aha! Then you believe he would approve an I asked for your hand?” His lip curled. “I wish I may see it! He would prefer even poor Rossiter, be damned if he wouldn't! And much as you profess to adore me, my poppet, I find it unlikely you would be willing to be known as Mrs. Mandarin.”

Katrina gave a gasp and turned her face away.

Flushed with anger, Naomi flared, “I do not adore you, August Falcon! And heaven help the lady who loves you enough to spend the rest of her life enduring your nasty cynicism! But one might think that after all these years you would know me better than to think me guilty of such—such—”

“Such typical British aristocratic prejudices? Why not? You're an Englishwoman and an aristocrat, and fairly brimming with hoity-toityness.”

Between her teeth she hissed, “An I
did
love you, wretched creature, nothing or no one would stop me from accepting your offer!”

“You may be grateful my girl,” he waved his scone at her, “that nothing would induce me to put your resolution to the test.”

“
Beast
!” exclaimed Naomi.

“No, but that is prodigious unkind, August,” said Katrina, troubled.

He smiled, and sketched a careless bow.

Naomi glared at him. “You are too provoking, August. You have made me cross, and I vowed I would not be so again today!”

“So much for resolution. Personally, I never make vows, then I am spared the anguish of breaking them. One always does, you know.”

Ignoring this confidence, she asked after a moment, “Why do you name him ‘poor' Rossiter? Are you acquaint?”

“Not—I thank heaven—since he was a quarrelsome and pushing brat at Eton. I had nothing to do with him. He cut no great swath in academia as I recollect.”

“Whereas your achievements will live on forever, I collect.”

“An you doubt it, m'dear, ask him.” He smiled at her with lazy mockery. “The next time you are—er,
tête-à-tête,
as it were … Rossiter detests me, but being a jolly good sportsman, I feel sure he will with true nobility verify the brilliance of my record. How do you go on, Roger?”

Roger Coachman approached the table, touched his hat respectfully to the Falcons, said he was very well thank you, and advised my lady that the horses were rested and it would soon grow dark.