Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 11] - Give All To Love Page 7

  "You are thinking I should have called on you. Well—I did start to do so. Only…" Her words trailed off. Josie glanced at her, curious. "Only I was away?"

  "Your—er, guardian has a certain… reputation," Mrs. Bliss evaded.

  At once Josie stiffened. "Indeed, ma'am?"

  "For being pursued," went on Mrs. Bliss demurely. "I can readily see why. And—I am a widow.'' She saw the fierce jut of the little chin, and the flash in the dark eyes, and could appreciate why her brother had told her that Miss Storm was a most taking little lass. She sighed, and appended with a mournful air, "Were I but ten years younger…"

  Both relieved and obliquely ruffled, Josie said, "My guardian is older than he looks, ma'am!" And, realizing what she had implied, dropped the cloth, her hands flying to her mouth in a way her guest thought most endearing. "Oh! I am so sorry! I— I only meant—Dev is three and thirty, not—"

  "Is he so?" said Mrs. Bliss with a giggle. "I'd not have set him a day over twenty-seven, despite that fascinating grey band in his hair. But—my dear, you waste your embarrassment. I am four and thirty, and have pinned my hopes on finding a gentleman at least five years my senior, as was my dear late husband."

  A wistful sadness had touched her eyes. Responding to it with all her tender nature, Josie touched her hand consolingly. "How awful it must be to suddenly be widowed."

  "It is very bad. But Percy's death was not really sudden. I had, in fact, expected it for some time." She realized that the great brown eyes were very wide, and went on in a lighter fashion, "I have—occasionally—an unfortunate gift of prescience. My husband was a born soldier and I felt… almost from the start, that we had very little time. But, he died as he would have wished, and with great valour, leading his men in a charge against impossible odds to cover the retreat of a gun carriage."

  Josie felt chilled, and shivered. "Leaving you alone." She completed her first aid, and said, "I was rude when you arrived. I do apologize. I have a wretched tongue."

  "Do you? How lovely. So do I."

  They exchanged smiles, then Fletcher hurried back in with the tea and put the tray on a nearby table. Watching Josie measure a small amount of brandy into a teacup, Mrs. Bliss asked, "Will you be my friend? In spite of my ferocious brother?"

  "Oh, yes, if you please! Is Sir William ferocious with you, ma'am?"

  "You must call me Faith. And William is seldom really cross with me. And if he is, I can manage him. But—he is difficult. All men are, do not you think?"

  "Yes, indeed. Dev is hopeless. If you knew the trouble I am put to only to keep him from making a disastrous match."

  "I quite understand. I heard he had only barely eluded Bella Scott-Matthias."

  They looked at each other, then laughed.

  "Are you acquainted, Faith? She is lovely, but—"

  "But horrid," said Mrs. Bliss, entering willingly into this character assassination. "Just a little milk and two spoons of sugar, if you please."

  "She always manages to make me feel a child of the gutter." said Josie, complying, and handing over the cup. "I am, you know. I was stolen by gypsies when I was still in leading strings. Dev thinks, though he is quite mistaken, that I was about eight when he found me in 1816. He rescued me from them." Her eyes became dreamily remote. Stirring her tea, she murmured absently, "And brought me here, although he really didn't want to. At first. But he has been so good to me. So generous and kind."

  "Oh—you poor girl," cried Mrs. Bliss, genuinely horrified. "Have you no idea who your parents were? Your family?"

  "Dev is my family. And—I have many adopted aunts and uncles and cousins, who spoil me dreadfully."

  "Well, that's good. You must be very grateful to him. Even if he is—difficult."

  "He's not—really. Just hopeless about… some things."

  "Such as—finding the right lady. Have you—er, anyone in mind?"

  Josie glanced at her sharply. Mrs. Bliss had lowered her teacup, and the wise grey eyes were very grave. She felt her cheeks burn, took a rather reckless gulp of her tea, and coughed. "Well—no. Not yet. But she will have to be gentle and—and understand his moods, and turn his temper when he flies into the boughs over some trifling thing. It is really very easy, you know; you just have to make him laugh. And to take care of him, for he will never admit he is ill or has done too much. Just—make him happy.'' She stared rather fixedly at the tray and was silent.

  Mrs. Bliss watched her, then murmured, "And—is he happy now? At Devencourt?"

  Paling, Josie's gaze flew to her face. "It is—his home. His birthright. Only—he fears it. He always has. Years ago, when I was just a little girl, I heard him talking with Tris Leith—they've been bosom bows forever. He said, "Desolation, despair, Devencourt!" I'll never forget the way he said it. He sounded so bitter, and that's not Dev's way. But his uncle, his mama's twin, was like that, they say. In touch with forces other people do not know about. Oh, ma'am! What is it? Can you also sense something here? Tell me, I beg you!"

  Faith Bliss found that her hands had become icy cold. She set aside her cup, remembering her first sight of this fine old house, and the dreadful premonition that had overtaken her. She'd felt the power of it, and she had run away, returning home to lie to her unimaginative brother that she had decided to respect his wishes and not leave a card at Devencourt. She had managed to frighten the girl; those great eyes were searching her face. Somehow, she managed a smile. "I do sense something, I'll not deny. But I could not tell you what it is. Perhaps it will come to me if I visit you again. I am allowed to do so, I hope?"

  "Of course, oh, of course! I am so glad you have come, for most of my friends live some distance off. Dare I come and see you? Oh dear, I suppose not. They quarrelled again today. Did you know it?"

  "Yes. That was why I rid out without a groom. I was so angry with my brother. But now I really must go, for the silly man will be quite frantic. You'd not guess it, but he dotes on me."

  With a naivete that caused Faith to chuckle, Josie said, "Does he? Then he cannot be all bad! Now, if you do not feel well enough to walk, you shall be carried. But you must meet Lady Godiva, and the cats—we have several, for a friend of ours has a dear cat named Little Patches, and we were given one of her kittens. And now, since she was a girl kitten, we have several more. But they are all nice—not at all catty like—" She twinkled conspiratorially as Fletcher came back in and held the door for them. "Like a certain femme fatale. Would you please help Mrs. Bliss on that side, Fletcher? Is it not the strangest thing, Faith, that brothers and sisters can be so different? I mean—Lady Isabella so unpleasant, and her brother such a jolly and dear person?"

  Faith tensed, slightly frowning, but did not interrupt the ingenuous discourse.

  Having said her goodbyes to her new friend, Josie repaired to the kitchens, where she had a discussion with Signor della Casa regarding desserts for dinner, Devenish being almost as partial to sweets as was Jeremy Bolster. Returning to the Great Hall, she wandered down the east wing, looking into the bookroom and two saloons without success. Her heart sank. He had either gone out, up to his bedchamber, or into his study. Of the three, she most feared the study, for that was, he often asserted, male territory and inviolate, and it was, besides, where he always retreated when he meant to scold. She eased the door open and peeped inside. He was there, sure enough, one elbow resting on the desk, chin in fist, as he stared at a vase of flowers put there by Mrs. Robinson, since there were far too many blooms for the vase.

  She crept inside, closed the door very softly, and flew to put her hands over his eyes. He started up, but she kept her hands tight, saying, "Now it is of no use for you to take me to task, Papa, for I had no idea she was a guest."

  He removed her hands, and turned to fix her with his stern look.

  "I thought," she went on hurriedly, "she was one of your light—"

  "Jo-sie!'' He removed the white cat from the top drawer.

  "Well, I did. And how am I to know? There are so many."
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  Her glinting eyes teased him. His lips quivered responsively, but he sprang up, foiling her attempt to sit on his lap. She scowled, but then occupied his big chair, and curled up in it, beaming at him like a triumphant imp, as he told her.

  "Well, it is no use your pretending not to be pleased because I am come home,'' she said, as he perched on the desk beside her, "for I know you are. The servants told me you were—er, 'chin-sunk.' "

  He groaned. "Cornish! Josie—how ever did we acquire such a—er— "

  "Prigging cove?" she supplied innocently.

  Irked, he said, "I have asked you not to use cant."

  "And I have asked you not to be forever flinging your gloves into the faces of other gentlemen!"

  His angry eyes fell away. He muttered, "I have not done such a thing. Now, tell me of your visit. How are the Drummonds? Did you see my Uncle Alastair?"

  "No, for he was in Paris on some business. Pandora went to Aspenhill to stay with Constance. The Drummonds are all well, and send their love. And why did you not escort Mrs. Bliss to Oak Manor?"

  "Because it would have been to rub salt into the wound." He chuckled. "Poor Little is going to be fairly slobbering with rage, for he left here vowing all kinds of terrible consequences, and will now fancy himself indebted to me. Besides, Mrs. G. is well able to handle the old Friday face if he cuts up rough. He'll do well to watch his tongue with that lady! Indeed, Yolande said—" He checked, wishing he'd not mentioned the visit that had ended so awkwardly, and went over to let the white cat out.

  "Yes, Papa? What did the beauteous Mrs. Tyndale have to say?"

  "She said she wondered you did not strangle me for having chose Mrs. Grenfell as your—duenna." He grinned unrepentantly and returned to her side.

  "What nonsense. I love Pan—she's a darling."

  "My God! A darling dragon! But never mind all that. Tell me about your visit."

  So she did, making him laugh with her tales until she said, "And Lord Fontaine came, and you should—"

  Devenish leapt to his feet. "The devil he did! I might have known! How often have you met that"—his lip curled—"that noble gentleman?"

  Astonished, she stammered, "Why—I have known him since—since I left the schoolroom, Dev."

  "A whole two years," he sneered.

  "Only because you would insist I was fourteen when all the world knew I was eighteen!"

  "Including our nobleman, evidently! Continue, if you please. What is your—relationship?"

  She stared at him. "Relationship? My heavens! What would you think?"

  "I would think you should know better than to associate with such a rake! And I shall ask your darling dragon if she is wits to let for allowing you—"

  Really annoyed now, she flared, "To do—what? Converse at the home of mutual friends or relations with a gentleman of the first stare, who may be seen anywhere?"

  His eyes savage, Devenish growled, "He'd best not be seen here, or I'll—"

  "Run him through, I suppose?" But in spite of her irritation, she knew his hot temper and she knew Elliot Fontaine's reputation, and her heart beat faster. "What stuff! Duels are out of fashion today, my Gaffer, and—"

  "With swords, perhaps. But there are always pistols, thank God!"

  "How can you use the Lord's name in connection with such savagery? And why should you be so savage? Dev… ?" She stood, and reached up to take his averted face between her hands and turn it back to her. For a moment, angry blue eyes met anxious brown ones, while the clock ticked softly, and the deepening chill in the room went quite unnoticed. Then Devenish moved her hands away and said in a rasp of a voice, "I'll not have him putting his slimy eyes on you! I warn you, Josie. Do not lead him on, or—"

  "Lead him… on?" She walked a step or two away, saying with her back to him, "When have you seen me lead a gentleman on?"

  "A hundred times," he said with harsh inaccuracy. Furiously indignant, she spun to face him. "Oh, I grant you don't know you do it. You're so dashed innocent, you've no notion—But—a man like Fontaine! I'd think you had more sense!"

  "What a disappointment I must be, dear sir! Elliot Fontaine is well born, well liked, very rich—"

  "There's where you're out! He is not. His father is!"

  "Besides which," she swept on angrily, "I have heard not one word against the gentleman!"

  ''That's no surprise! He presents two faces to the world!''

  "And—you have seen the other face?"

  How straight she stood. How regally she faced him. He coloured and looked away. "Not—exactly. But—but I can sense the kind of man he is. And I suspect—" And again, helplessly, he was silent.

  Her chin lifted even higher. She said—disdainfully, "You sense and you suspect—and for these nebulous notions I am to abandon my friendship with a most charming—"

  He fairly sprang to grip her wrist and jerk her close to him. "Do you think I say such things lightly? Pay heed to me, little elf. If I catch him trying to fix his interest with you—"

  "Fix… his interest? But—but you have said I am too young to be thinking of such things."

  He released her, took up his quill pen, and stared down at it. "I—er, had supposed you to be—so. But, I have come to think I was—mistaken."

  Unutterably shocked, she studied his averted profile. "Do you say—my arguments have at last won you over, dear sir?"

  For possibly the first time in his life, Devenish began to tidy his desk. "That," he mumbled, "and—and other things."

  Instinctively, her hand went to her bosom.

  "No, no!" he said. Then, scarlet, added, "Well—I meant, what others said of it—I mean—of your probable age."

  "I see. Then—you think I am of an age to—to receive offers?" She waited for a denial, but none came. Her heart sinking, she went on, "In which case you should perhaps give me a list of—of acceptable gentlemen, so that I may not—disgrace you further."

  The paper he held was crushed convulsively. "For Lord's sake! As if you have done so!"

  "But—you just said…"

  "Oh. Fontaine. Yes—well, his pretensions you must certainly depress." His jaw set. "Or I will! As for the rest—"

  She returned to stand very closely before him and prompt meekly, "Yes, Papa?"

  Reluctantly, he looked down into her upturned, trusting little face. His own softened. He said, "You roast me, you vixen. You know very well."

  "I am confused," she said with a sigh. "To have been sixteen this morning, and one and twenty this afternoon is—unsettling. As always, I need your guidance dearest—ancient."

  He wrenched away again and said disjointedly, "How may I know who you will—like. There are many fine young fellas your own age. That nice Van Lindsay boy; or Freddie Hilby. Or— what about young Drummond? Or—Lyon? Now, there's a—"

  Josie had retreated to the window during this summation, and now interrupted, "So you have heard of John's attentions to me."

  A pause. Then he said coolly, "No. He—likes you, does he?"

  "He says he does. And I like him. Very much."

  "Oh." He leaned back against the desk, watching his ward's slender but shapely figure outlined against the window. Josie and John Drummond… "Well then," he said heartily, "that should do very nicely, I'd think."

  She whirled and flew to stand before him, crouching a little, her eyes blazing.

  Startled, he drew back.

  "Horrid! Evil man!" she hissed.

  "N-Now—Josie—you have plagued me to—to admit you are older. And you said you liked the boy, and—"

  "And of a sudden you can scarce wait to push me to the altar, can you! You cannot wait to be rid of your—your encumbrance!"

  "Encumbrance, is it!" But her lip trembled; he saw the glitter of tears and, groaning, pulled her into his arms and, stroking her hair, murmured, "My little elf—how can you even think such stuff?"

  "B-because," she sobbed, "I know what—what a trial I've been to you."

  "Never!" He put her from him, sm
iling into her tear-wet eyes. "You were never naughty, or sulked, or went into tantrums. Or very seldom. How I shall go on without…" He frowned, and stopped, wondering why he was saying such things when he had determined to behave quite differently.

  "I am so glad, Dev," she said, hugging him tight. "Then we may go on comfortably. Just as we are."

  "We-ell, yes. Until I—er, become a benedick, at all events."

  She all but leapt back. "What? " She searched his face. "Have you—fixed on a lady? Who? I have been hearing whispers of the infamous Isabella."

  "There is nothing in the least smoky about the lady," he said loftily. "Even if her brother is unspeakable. Bella is"—he turned to his untidy desk once more—"very lovely, and does, I feel sure, return my regard, so—" His words were cut off as a cushion bounced from his head. "Wretched brat!" Grinning, he turned on her and snatched away the cushion. She was at him in a flash, her darting hands tugging at his neckcloth, tearing the handkerchief from his pocket, seizing a handful of flowers and jamming them into his thick hair, eluding his desperate attempts to restrain her, until he caught her at last and, weak with laughter, they clung to each other.

  "Colonel the Honourable Tristram Leith," announced Wolfe imperturbably.

  Chapter 5

  "Tris!" Rather red in the face, Devenish greeted their guest, both hands outstretched. "Welcome! Welcome!"

  Returning his strong clasp, Tristram Leith's fine eyes, alight with amusement, flashed to Josie's blushes. Badly wounded at the Battle of Waterloo, Leith's face was still streaked on one side with scars that failed to render him less than a fine-looking man. Before the battle, his looks had been such as to reduce London's ladies to sighful yearnings. The scars had faded now; his thick hair was near-black, his dark eyes keen, his tall frame as lean and supple as it had been when Devenish first had met him several weeks after the battle. He wore a well-cut riding coat and tight-fitting moleskins, and his topboots gleamed. He had no need to apologize for his appearance, but said, "Had I known you intended to array yourself for my benefit, I'd have worn something more formal."