Deathstalker Honor (55 page)

So the first thing he’d done, after he’d shaken off the news pack, had been to contact a service agency and hire the most experienced butler they had on their books. A quiet, unassuming, but surprisingly firm man in his late fifties, Baxter was more than just a butler. He was a personal servant, a gentleman’s gentleman, and privy to all the arcane secrets and rituals of aristocratic behavior. Even though he’d been in the Navy boy and man, Robert had still visited enough with his Family to know the basics, but the everyday minutia, by which proper behavior and social standing were judged, mutated faster than any outsider could hope to follow. Which was of course the point. High Society was meant to be elitist, complex, and mysterious. How else could you tell who was in and who was out? Half the fun of being in was turning up your nose at those who weren’t. Robert the military man saw the whole business as desperately childish, but he was still enough of an aristocrat to understand how seriously everyone else took it. He was the Campbell now, and he had to play the game. It was expected of him.

The role of the Families might have been altered by the rebellion, but some things never changed.

So he listened patiently while Baxter lectured him on etiquette and style and the correct way of shooting one’s cuffs, on the latest dances and the latest gossip, and who might be expected to support or oppose him. If Clan Campbell really was on the way up again, there were a great many people who saw advantages to be gained by striking deals while the Campbell was still weak. There were just as many more who might do anything up to and including assassination attempts to prevent his rise and preserve the status quo. Just by becoming the Campbell, Robert was inheriting centuries of intrigues and feuds, old allies and enemies. In the Families no one forgot or forgave. Unless it was expedient.

Robert closed his eyes for a moment. He was deathly tired. Yesterday he’d been a Captain in the Imperial Fleet, with a glorious career in front of him. Now he’d given it all up, to become something he despised, because of his duty to a Family that had never really wanted him. Someone was going to pay for what he was going through, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him. He’d play their bloody game, but he’d play it his way, by his rules, and the good God help anyone who got in his way. He realized Baxter had stopped talking, and looked around sharply.

“Sorry, I was just resting my eyes. What is it? Did I miss something?

“I was inquiring about the small portrait to your right, sir,” said Baxter. “It is the only portrait you brought with you. A most lovely young lady. Is she who I think she is?”

“Yes,” said Robert. “That’s her. That’s Letitia.” He stared expressionlessly at the portrait in its silver frame, one of the few personal possessions he’d brought with him. All that was left from the last time the Family had intruded into his life. “She was very lovely. I suppose everyone knows the story. It was a big enough scandal in its day. I almost married her. An arranged marriage, but I was fond of her. Given time, I might even have loved her. But at our wedding it emerged she was already pregnant, by one of her guards. And Gregor Shreck murdered her rather than let the wedding go ahead and dishonor his Family. I would have saved her, but my Family held me back. I think that was when I learned to hate the Families. All of them.”

“Family honor is . . . a tricky business, sir. It is often difficult to know what to do for the best.”

“Gregor killed her right in front of me. I would have killed him then if I could. I may still.”

“Then I fear you’ll have to stand in line, sir. Gregor Shreck is not the most popular member of Society just now. In fact, I would venture to suggest that genital warts are probably more popular than he is.”

Robert had to laugh. “Good to see some things never change. And I suppose a Society that hates Gregor Shreck can’t be all bad. He can wait. Rebuilding the Clan has to come first. That is why I came home.”

“Indeed, sir. And if I may be so bold, I am sure there are many young ladies of good standing who would be only too happy to make a contract with a rising young gentleman and war hero such as yourself, sir.”

“No,” said Robert sharply. “No more arranged marriages.”

“Pardon me, sir, I quite understand your feelings in this matter, but if you are to lead your Clan, it will be necessary for you to marry at some point, to produce heirs to carry on your line.”

“Yes, I know. But not yet.”

“Don’t try to pressure him, Baxter. Robert can be as stubborn as a deaf mule when he puts his mind to it. It’s a Campbell trait.”

Robert looked around smiling as the owner of the carrying strident voice strode over to join him. As soon as Adrienne had heard he was back, she had arranged for him to stay with her while she arranged the details of his introduction back into Society. Robert hadn’t argued. One didn’t with Adrienne. And he’d been glad of somewhere secure and friendly to lay his head. His old Family home, Tower Campbell, had been taken over by the Wolfes. He had no rights to it anymore. So he and Baxter were currently camped out at Adrienne’s somewhat crowded house, and trying to get a word in edgewise now and again. Adrienne had all but taken over the running of Robert’s life. He didn’t mind, really. It reminded him happily of his time in the military. She waved the hovering tailor away with an imperious gesture, and he practically broke his back bowing his way backward across the room. Adrienne looked sharply at Baxter.

“Well, how’s he doing?”

“As well as can be expected, ma’am. He has a regrettable impulse toward truthfulness and sincerity, but nothing that can’t be overcome. A few carefully arranged appearances, just to test the waters, and then he should be ready to make a more public splash in Society.”

“At least now you look the part, Robert.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“That’s how you know it’s fashionable, dear. You should have seen some of the things my Finlay wore in his days as a fop and a dandy. People would complain of eye strain for days after he unveiled a new outfit.”

“We need to talk about Finlay,” said Robert. “Have you seen him recently? Is he going to make problems over my being the Campbell instead of him? He does have a better claim to the title.”

“Trust me, dear, Finlay doesn’t want to be the Campbell. He never did. Finlay wouldn’t know what to do with responsibility if you nailed it to his forehead. He’s always been the most important thing in his life. I had hoped Evangeline might have changed that, but . . . He came to see me recently. Said he wanted to see the children, which was a first. I’m surprised he could remember their names without prompting.”

“How did it go?”

“Badly. I should have known better. He’s never been any good with children. Or anyone else, really. But I have to say he seemed even more out of it than usual. I’d be worried about him if I could bring myself to give a damn. I really must contact Evie, see how she’s doing. Finlay never did appreciate her. But that can wait. How do you feel now, Robert?”

“Very grateful that you’re letting me impose on you. Baxter and I will move out as soon as I can find somewhere—”

“Oh, there’s no rush. Besides, you’d probably just move into some squalid little bachelor apartment, and we can’t have that. If you’re to be a part of Society, you must have a respectable address. The right address always says a great deal about a man. To begin with, I think we’ll get you settled in a suite at one of the better hotels.”

“Addie, I don’t have that kind of money! The Clan has no assets, and while the Navy gave me a nice little bonus on leaving, it hardly amounted to a golden handshake. What I’ve got won’t last long, and it certainly won’t stretch to a suite.”

“If you’re going to be the Campbell, you have to live like the head of a Clan,” Adrienne said firmly. “Or no one is going to take you seriously. Don’t you worry about money. Once word gets around that you’re back, people will be falling over themselves to pay your bills, in return for future favors. Even the banks will extend you open lines of credit in the hope of your future business. Everyone knows that a hell of a lot of money went missing when the Campbells crashed, money that the Wolfes never got their hands on.”

“But I haven’t got it.”

“They don’t know that! If anyone asks you about it, just smile and look enigmatic. Let me worry about such things, dear. You just concentrate on looking the part. How are we doing for clothes, Baxter? Is he ready to go out in public yet?”

“There will have to be further fittings for the more formal evening wear, ma’am, but I think we’re ready to risk a few carefully controlled appearances. Did you have anyone in mind, ma’am?”

“Well, to start with,” said Adrienne, “I thought Constance Wolfe.”

“Are you crazy?” said Robert. “The Wolfes destroyed my Family!”

“That was then, this is now,” said Adrienne firmly. “A lot’s happened since then. Jacob Wolfe was head of the Clan at the time. He’s dead now. Valentine is on the run, Daniel is missing, and Stephanie is so far out of favor that she can’t even see it from where she is. So Constance, Jacob’s young widow, is currently the Wolfe, and head of the Family. And she has very revolutionary ideas about how the Families should behave in the new order. She distrusts Blue Block, supports Parliament, and is very keen to mend fences with old enemies. Go and see her, Robert. Turn on the Campbell charm, make it clear you don’t hold her responsible for the excesses of her predecessors, and you might just find her a kindred spirit. She’d make a very strong friend and supporter. And it would demonstrate to all the other Families that you don’t feel bound by old feuds and vendettas. You’re going to have enough enemies as it is, Robert. Make friends where you can.”

“Not back twenty-four hours, and here I am dressed up like a clotheshorse, and contemplating making deals with a Wolfe,” said Robert disgustedly. “Some welcome home. But if I have to . . .”

“You have to,” said Adrienne.

Robert looked to Baxter, who nodded solemnly. “It will make an excellent beginning, sir. Not to worry. I shall of course be accompanying you.”

“Wonderful,” said Robert. “Now I’ve got a nanny as well as a butler.” He glared at Adrienne. “Anything else you think I ought to know?”

“There is one other thing,” Adrienne said reluctantly. “Concerning Finlay. You may have to do something about him.”

“You just said he didn’t want to be the Campbell.”

“He doesn’t. But . . . he’s been acting even more erratically than usual just recently. Threatening people. He’s made a lot of enemies in his time, many of them major players in Society. They might just ask you to deal with Finlay as a price for their support.”

“Deal with Finlay? What the hell could I do? He’s not going to listen to anything I might say, and even if he did accept me as head of the Clan, I doubt very much he’d accept my authority over him. And I am certainly not stupid enough to try to deal with him myself. Owen Deathstalker might be able to handle him, or Kid Death, but I wouldn’t last five minutes against him.”

“There are ways,” said Adrienne, not looking at him. “In the end, all that matters is the good of the Clan. One man can’t be allowed to undermine everything we’re hoping to achieve.”

“For God’s sake, Adrienne, he’s your husband. The father of your children. Don’t you have any feelings for him?”

“I don’t know him anymore. Sometimes I wonder if I ever did.”

 

Robert Campbell sat extremely upright on an antique chair, holding a full cup of tea in one hand and a large chocolate pastry on a plate in the other, and wondered how the hell he was supposed to get either one of them anywhere near his mouth without losing the other. Also, his new coat was uncomfortably tight across the shoulders, his cravat was half strangling him, and his trousers were pinching him in places he didn’t even know he had. All in all, this was shaping up to be one hell of a first social call.

His hostess, Constance Wolfe, had the top floor in Tower Wolfe all to herself, and had outfitted it to her personal taste. Which meant thick rugs on the floor, the very latest fashions in furniture, and stuffed, fluffy animals lying everywhere there was a space. Robert felt he could have coped with all that. It was the frankly pornographic murals on the walls that kept throwing him. He’d never seen anything like some of them, and he’d been in the Navy for years. He also had a terrible suspicion that Constance had posed for at least three of them. In which case, she was not only very beautiful but incredibly limber as well. She looked very smart in black, still in mourning for her husband, and every inch the head of her Clan. Robert stared determinedly down at his tea and pastry, and tried to beam telepathic appeals for help to Baxter, before remembering that Constance had banished him from the room, along with all her servants, so he and Constance could speak privately.

He hoped she wasn’t going to jump on him. He’d always been rather shy about such things.

There’d been a lot of guards too, but Constance had dismissed them too as a sign of good faith. The two of them were alone together. Robert supposed he ought to get a few guards himself, if only for show. Constance leaned forward in her chair facing him, and he jumped slightly in spite of himself. Tea jumped out of his cup and into the saucer.

“You don’t have to eat the pastry if you don’t want it,” said Constance, smiling. “Or drink the tea. One of the first things you have to learn in social gatherings is the art of saying no gracefully. Otherwise they’ll load you down with food till your arms ache. People do so love to show off their chefs.”

Robert smiled gratefully, looked around for a nearby table or empty surface, realized there wasn’t one, and finally settled for putting cup and plate down on the floor beside his chair. He straightened up, tried surreptitiously to ease his coat and trousers without much success, and smiled slightly desperately at Constance.

“I like your room. It’s very . . . comfortable.”