Time's Fool (48 page)

“Very wise,” said Gideon. “And I've to thank you, Tio, for allowing my sister to stay with you these past few days.”

Glendenning bowed. “Miss Gwendolyn is always a delight.”

“And the antithesis,” drawled Falcon, “of your new resolution.”

Gideon stiffened. “I think you must explain that, sir. Do you say my sister is
not
above reproach?”

“Were she
my
sister she would be reproached, I promise you,” said Falcon, impervious to the steely glint in Gideon's eyes. “I'll remind you that she came to call on me, ostensibly to beseech me not to run you through. I put it to you that a single lady does not in propriety call upon a bachelor, and that I did not invite her! Not content with this breach of etiquette, in presenting what should have been a humble request, she contrived to knock me down, break my grandmama's vase, and ruin my dog! And to add insult to injury,” he went on, warming to his theme, “she danced on my best Colichemarde and bent the damn foible!”

Weak with laughter, Morris collapsed onto Glendenning's shoulder.

Rossiter made a great effort to keep his mouth stern and said he would at once go home and beat Gwendolyn within an inch of her life.

“I will lend you my spiked cudgel,” offered Glendenning, greatly amused.

“No, but seriously,” said Gideon, “I do apologize, Falcon. We have treated you shabbily from start to finish. I shall certainly replace your vase, and—” He paused, knitting his brows. “Ruined your dog, you say? How the deuce did she manage that?”

“She threw her cane for the brute,” said Falcon gloomily. “He used to be a fair watchdog. Now he offers a stick to everyone who calls. I vow an army of stick-wielding burglars could invade my home in perfect safety since she reformed him! And if you do not cease howling, Lieutenant Block…!”

Glendenning intervened, “Well, you have done your possible, Ross. Restored your father's good name, and won the thanks and praise of the King's General. What d'you mean to do now?”

Gideon took a deep breath. “Now, by heaven, I am going to get on with my own life!”

“Speaking of getting on with things,” drawled Falcon. “Morris owes me a duel.”

Morris wiped tears from his eyes. “So I do, by Jove! Will you second me, Ross?”

“After my honeymoon,” said Gideon.

“But that is so … inchoate, my dear fellow,” complained Morris.

*   *   *

Inside the quiet office, General Underhill stood at the window, and watched the merry group out of sight. He said quietly, “Well, Stephen? What do you make of it?”

The major pursed his lips. “A terrible thing, sir.”

“Terrible, indeed.” Underhill turned back into the room, and sighed. “A fine young officer like that. Splendid background, and a magnificent battle record. What a pity.”

His aide asked, “What do you suppose caused it, sir? A mental collapse as a result of his wounds?”

“Something of the sort.”

“You—er, do not think he should be—er—”

“Placed under restraint? No. And God help me do I err!”

“I wonder why the others support him?”

“Belike they have their reasons. Friendship. A love of notoriety, mayhap. Young Glendenning I fancy would be pleased to turn our attention from his questionable loyalties. And as for that devil, Falcon! Stap me—what insolence! One might think someone of his background—” He made an impatient gesture and did not finish the sentence.

After a while, the major asked, “Do you mean to warn Lord Collington, sir?”

“I fancy I should. But 'twould surely ruin young Rossiter's chance for happiness. And the boy has been put through sufficient hell.”

“True. But … that lovely lady, sir…!”

They looked at each other, both faces troubled.

General Underhill said heavily, “Damme, but war can be a wretched business, Steve.”

“It can indeed, sir!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Raindrops pattered softly against the windows of the luxurious carriage that splashed along the Dover road. Kissing the top of the curly head which nestled just below his chin, Gideon murmured, “Are you disappointed, love, that it must rain on our bridal day?”

Naomi leaned her head back against his shoulder and smiled up at him. “Nothing could disappoint me this afternoon. I am, at long last, Mrs. Gideon Rossiter.”

He bent to kiss her rosy lips. “My father judged it a proper scramblement of a ceremony.”

She chuckled. “Rushed into by special licence and with only two weeks' notice. Dreadful!”

“Two weeks, indeed! I have waited and yearned for you these past six years at the least, Mrs. Rossiter, and feared this day would never dawn! For which I have no one to blame but myself. And I do not ask that you give up your title, dearest girl.”

“I know,” she said tenderly. “But 'tis what I wish. That chapter of my existence is closed. The best part of my life begins now—as your wife.”

She was kissed again, of course, and then they were quiet for a long while; the comfortable quiet of belonging. Holding her, loving her with all his heart, he yet was conscious of the shadow that lay over them. How would she feel if she knew what he had told General Underhill? How would she feel if she knew that the earl was responsible for all his father's misery? Would she be enraged if she guessed how, in striving to protect her from more grief, her new husband also deceived her?

“It was so kind of Uncle Bertram to act for my father,” murmured Naomi. “Is a nice old gentleman, do you not think?”

“He gave the bride to me. How could I not think him a prince of uncles?”

“I wonder,” she said, with a small sigh, “whether I will ever again see Papa.”

Gideon started. “Why should you doubt it?”

She sat up straighter, pulled away, then turned to face him, her lovely face grave. She had dreaded this moment and now that it was here, her heart was thundering. “My darling husband, there is—is something I should have told you. But … I was so afraid, you see.” She looked down, and when she lifted her head, her lips trembled a little.

He tried to speak, but she put her fingers over his mouth, and said unsteadily, “No, beloved. You must hear my confession, now that I—I have begun it. You think you know your wanton, but—you have no notion of how very devious and sly I am. I waited, my Gideon, until we were safely wed, and—and I can only pray you will not demand an annulment.”

“Of all the idiotic—” he managed, frowning and pulling her hand away.

“Wait! Oh, wait! You
must
hear me! I shall never find the courage again!”

She looked so frightened, so shaken, and perhaps it was best that she tell him just how much she knew, so he waited.

“I have come to suspect,” she said in a scratchy little voice, “that … that my father schemed and plotted with Louis Derrydene to … to ruin Sir Mark.” Her eyes filled with tears as the terrible words were spoken. She cried, “Oh, Gideon! Can you forgive me for keeping silent? Do not hate me! Please! Do not—”

He swept her to him then, holding her close and dear against his heart, and murmuring between kisses, “Dear, silly, foolish little meadow sprite. How can I hate the lady I have loved all my life?”

Naomi sat up straight and blinked at him. “You
knew
! Oh, Gideon! Why did you not tell me? How I have agonized over the shameful business!”

“And I also. I did not dare mention it for fear that ferocious pride of yours might again come between us.” He stroked her cheek, his eyes searching her face. “How did you know?”

“I think I began to wonder about it when you became so convinced that the little jewelled man was connected to Sir Mark's troubles. I remembered how angry my father had been when I lost the silly thing. But I did not really believe it was true until we went to the Derrydene house so that you could search Sir Louis' study. Something Lady Derrydene said that morning troubled me, but I could not for a while think what it was. And then I remembered. She said to her butler, ‘Tell Camber to drive the team around to the stables.' Papa had told me he scarce knew Sir Louis and had never been to his house. If that was truth, how could Lady Derrydene know my groom's name?” She sighed, her eyes very sad. “So many things came to mind, then. Little things Papa said to slight you, or your family. The way he kept teasing me about your—your reputation with women. How insistent he was that we terminate the betrothal. I realized that he hated Sir Mark, and had set out deliberately to ruin him. And I have been so—so wicked as to let you wed me, knowing that your father—an he knew it all—would straitly, and very justifiably, forbid our marriage! Truly … I am shameless!”

“Thank heaven,” said Gideon huskily, and kissed her again. So she did not know the worst of it—that Collington had subjected her to so terrible an ordeal, and that he might be involved in even more serious plotting. God willing, he would shield her from that knowledge for as long as he lived.

He said gently, “'Tis too late for my father to stop us now. But although I honour him, I would have allowed nothing to come between us, at all events.”

Naomi gave a great sigh of relief. “My poor conscience is easy at last! I can truly start afresh and forget it all.”

He wondered if she really could forget, and said carefully, “An Lord Collington should stay abroad, shall you mind terribly, my love?”

She smiled happily and nestled closer. “I have you,” she murmured.

It was raining when they pulled into the yard of the Ship Inn at Dover. Ostlers with sacking held over their heads ran to lead in the horses. Beaming, the host threw open the door and ushered the bride and groom into a parlour warmed by lamplight and fragrant with the smells of wood smoke and dinner.

As they walked inside, laughing, and shaking the rain from their garments a shout went up.

“Here they are!”

“Thought they could slither away and escape us!”

“You're fairly caught, you two slyboots!”

And they were surrounded by a merry crowd of well-wishers. Morris and Horatio, and Perry Cranford; Katrina, Gordon Chandler, Gwendolyn, Rudolph Bracksby, and even Tummet, looking thinner but cheerful. All throwing rice and teasing them fondly; and Falcon grumbling that he would not be within ten miles of this place save that he'd been bamboozled by his sister, but demanding a kiss from the bride nonetheless.

“Oh, I feel sure Jamie would have been glad to drive Miss Katrina down,” said Gideon with a twinkle.

“Any where, at any time,” declared Morris fervently.

“Sooner than allow such a horrid contretemps—” began Falcon.

The commotion had attracted attention. A slender dark lady with a small girl beside her turned from the desk to glance their way.

A shrill scream rent the air. “Papa Ross! Papa Ross!”

Naomi whirled around, and turned chalk white as the curly-haired dark child ran across the suddenly hushed parlour, arms outstretched.

“Mignon! My babe!” Gideon bent, scooped her up and kissed her heartily, then turned to gather the lady into his embrace. “And my lovely Lilla!”

She clung to him, her voice breaking as she said in rapid French, “Ah, Gideon! At last we find you! My dear! My very dear! I feared you must be dead!”

Katrina whispered faintly, “Dear God!”

“I should have killed the bastard,” said Falcon through his teeth.

Gideon turned to Naomi. “Here's a fine coil,” he said guiltily. “Of all times to have to make you known to my family! This is Madame Jean Favre and the very young lady is Mignon, my—”

“You unprincipled 'ound!” The voice came from the door, and a tall man with his left sleeve pinned up came in, water dripping from his tricorne. “Do you seek my loved ones to steal away ze very moment we 'ave land in your country?”

He threw his arm wide and caught Gideon into a hug. “This it is well met,
mon ami
!
Mon cher ami
to whom I owe so much! Ah, and 'ere is Lieutenant Morris! We shake ze 'and, all so!”

Setting down the child, Gideon said, “Mrs. Rossiter, allow me to present Capitaine Favre, whose family became my own when—”

“When my dear 'usband 'e is left for dead on ze battlefield, and taken prisoner,” interposed the lady. “We would 'ave starve, madame, save that my Jean and Gideon, although they fight on different sides, they 'ave the fine friendship from school days, and Gideon take us under 'is—'ow you say this, James?”

“Under his protection,” said Morris, grinning.

“Stumblewit!” muttered Falcon.

“Oh, Gad!” gasped Morris, turning very red as many shocked eyes turned his way. “Only I—er, should not say that, of course! Assure you, Naomi, old Ross merely looked after 'em! N-nothing more, do promise you! Didn't do a curst thing, actually!”

“'E do a very great deal,” protested Madame Favre, bewildered. “Without my Gideon's always 'elp I 'ave not know what it would become of us!”

Naomi said feebly, “Then—then,
this
is your
family,
Gideon? But—but you said there were
three
children, and—”

“Ah!” cried madame. “Then, you 'ave know,
mon cher
? Nurse, she take my twins up ze stairs!”

“Twins!” gasped Gideon. “Jupiter! I thought I was making it up!”

“Wicked, wicked man!” said Naomi happily, her last shadow vanishing.

Madame Favre exclaimed in French, “So this beautiful creature, she must be your lady of the garden, and you are married to her! Ah, it is good, my dear, dear, Gideon!”

Much later that evening, when the festivities had finally ceased and the celebrants had all gone their separate ways, Naomi reminded her husband of madame's remarks. “There were,” she called to him sternly, “altogether too many ‘dears!' 'Tis quite obvious to me, Captain Rossiter, that you and Madame enjoyed a very agreeable relationship.”