Devil's Cub (14 page)

“I find that you were right, sir,” she remarked politely. “I shall be the better for some food.”

He strolled over to his chair and sat down. “You look as though you need something to warm you,” he said. “Will you drink burgundy with me, or ratafia by yourself?”

“Thank you, my lord, I will drink water,” answered Miss Challoner firmly.

“As you please,” he shrugged and leaned back in his chair, lazily watching her.

The entrance of a liveried man, followed by one of the inn-servants created a welcome diversion. The discreet-looking man began to serve them, and surprised Miss Challoner by addressing her in her own tongue.

“I always travel with my own servants,” explained the Marquis, observing her surprise.

“An agreeable luxury, sir,” commented Miss Challoner.

She made an excellent dinner, and maintained a flow of easy conversation for the benefit of his lordship’s servant The Marquis emptied his bottle of burgundy, and sent for a second. Miss Challoner’s heart sank, but the wine only seemed to make his lordship readier of tongue. There was a certain air of recklessness about him, but he was far from being drunk. Miss Challoner, dreading the inevitable
tête-à-tête
,
lingered over the sweetmeats. When she at last ended her repast, the Marquis signed to his servant, who, in his turn, directed the French hireling to clear away the covers. Vidal got up and lounged over to the fire again. Miss Challoner stayed where she was, only pushing her chair back a little way from the table.

“Will your lordship require anything further tonight?” asked the servant.

“Nothing,” Vidal answered.

The man bowed, and withdrew. Vidal spoke softly: “Come here.”

“I have something to say to you first, my lord,” returned Miss Challoner calmly.

“Good God, girl, do you suppose it was to hear you talk that I brought you to France?” Vidal said derisively. “I’ll swear you know better than that!”

“Perhaps,” admitted Miss Challoner. “Nevertheless, sir, I beg you will listen to me. You won’t pretend, I hope, that you are fallen in love with me.”

“Love?” he said scornfully. “No, madam. I feel no more love for you than I felt for your pretty sister. But you’ve thrown yourself at my head, and by God I’ll take you!” His eyes ran over her. “You’ve a mighty trim figure, my dear, and from what I can discover, more brain than Sophia. You lack her beauty, but I’m not repining.”

She looked gravely up at him. “My lord, if you take me, it will be for revenge, I think. Have I deserved so bitter a punishment?”

“You’re not very complimentary, are you?” he mocked. She rose, holding her pistol behind her. “Let me go now,” she said. “You do not want me, and indeed I think you have punished me enough.”

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” he said. “Are you piqued that I liked Sophia better? Never heed it, my dear; I’ve forgotten the wench already.”

“My lord,” she said desperately, “indeed I am not what you think me!”

He burst into one of his wild laughs, and she realized that in this mood she could make no impression on him.

He was advancing towards her. She brought her right hand from behind her, and levelled the pistol. “Stand where you are!” she said. “If you come one step nearer I shall shoot you down.”

He stopped short. “Where did you get that thing?” he demanded.

“Out of your coach,” she answered.

“Is it loaded?”

“I don’t know,” said Miss Challoner, incurably truthful.

He began to laugh again, and walked forward. “Shoot then,” he invited, “and we shall know. For I am coming several steps nearer, my lady.”

Miss Challoner saw that he meant it, shut her eyes and resolutely pulled the trigger. There was a deafening report and the Marquis went staggering back. He recovered in a moment. “It was loaded,” he said coolly.

Miss Challoner’s eyes flew open. She saw that Vidal was feeling his left arm above the elbow, and to her dismay she watched a red stain grow upon his sleeve. She dropped the pistol, and her hand went up to her cheek. “Oh, what have I done?” she cried. “Have I hurt you very badly?”

He was laughing again, but quite differently now, as though he were really amused. “You’ve hurt old Plançon’s wall more than you’ve hurt me,” he answered.

M. Plançon himself burst into the room at this moment, his eyes fairly starting from his head. A flood of questions broke from him, accompanied by much excited gesticulation. My lord disposed of nun summarily enough. “Calm yourself, my friend. Madame merely wished to assure herself that my pistol was in order.”

“But milor’, in my hotel! My beautiful
salle
he is spoiled! Ah,
mon Dieu
,
but regard me that hole in the wall!”

“Put it down on the shot, you old villain, and remove your fat carcase from my sight,” said his lordship. He saw his steward behind the agitated landlord. “Fletcher, take the fool away.”

“Certainly, my lord,” said Fletcher impassively, and drew M. Plangon out of the room.

Miss Challoner said guiltily: “Oh dear, I am sorry! I did not know it would make such a stir.”

Vidal’s eyes began to twinkle. “You’ve spoiled his beautiful
salle
,
and you’ve spoiled my no less beautiful coat.”

“I know,” said Miss Challoner, hanging her head. “But, after all, it was your fault,” she said with spirit. “You told me to do it.”

“I may have told you to do it, but I can’t say I thought that you Would,” replied his lordship.

“You shouldn’t have come any nearer,” she said severely.

“Obviously,” he agreed. He began to strip off his coat.

“I make you my compliments. I know of only one other woman who would have had the courage to pull that trigger.”

“Who is she?” inquired Miss Challoner.

“My mother. Come and bind up your handiwork. I’m spoiling old Plançon’s carpet.”

Miss Challoner came promptly and took the handkerchief he held out to her. “Are you sure it is not serious?” she asked anxiously. “It bleeds dreadfully.”

“Quite sure. I observe that the sight of blood don’t turn you queasy.”

“I am not such a fool, sir.” Miss Challoner began to roll up his sleeve. “I fear the lace is ruined, my lord. Am I hurting you?”

“Not at all,” said Vidal politely.

Miss Challoner made a pad of her own handkerchief, and bound the wound up tightly with my lord’s.

“Thank you,” he said when this operation was over. “Now if you will help me to put on my coat again, we will talk.”

“Do you think you had better put it on?” asked Miss Challoner doubtfully. “Perhaps it may start to bleed again.”

“My good girl, it’s the veriest scratch!” said Vidal.

“I was afraid I had killed you,” confided Miss Challoner.

He grinned. “You’re not a good enough shot, my dear.” He struggled into his coat, and then pulled a chair to the fire. “Sit down,” he said. She hesitated and he drew one of his own pistols from his pocket and gave it to her. “Shoot me with that next time,” he recommended. “You’ll find it easier.”

She sat down, but though she smiled, her voice was serious when she answered. “If I shoot again, it had better be myself,” she said.

He leaned forward and took the pistol away from her. “In that case, I’ll keep it.” He looked at her frowningly. “You had better explain,” he said abruptly. “I’ve a notion I was right in my first reading of your character.”

“What was that, sir?”

“I thought you were devilish strait-laced.” She nodded. “Yes, my lord,” she said simply.

“Then in God’s name, girl, what possessed you to play this hoyden’s trick on me?”

She clasped her hands in her lap. “If I tell you, my lord, I fear it will make you very angry.”

“You can’t make me more angry than you’ve done already,” he said. “I want the truth now. Let me have it, if you please!”

She was silent for a moment, looking into the fire. He sat still, watching her, and presently she said in her quiet way: “Sophia thought that she could make you wed her. She is very young and silly. My mother too—” she coloured painfully—“is not very wise. I did not think that you would marry Sophia. I thought that you would try to make her your mistress, and I was afraid for her because—because she behaved—foolishly, and because I knew that you would ruin her.” She paused, but he said nothing. “That letter you sent,” she went on, “was directed to Miss Challoner. I am the elder, you see, and it came to my hand. I knew it was writ by you, but I opened it. Sophia never saw it, my lord.”

“Then all you told me at Newhaven was a lie?”

Miss Challoner flushed. “Yes, sir, it was a lie. I wanted to be sure that you would never want to see Sophia again and it seemed to me that if only I could make you believe that she had tricked you—like that—you would be done with her for ever.”

“You were right,” said Vidal grimly.

“Yes. Only I did not know that you would force me to go instead. I didn’t know I should be obliged to tell you all this. I thought you would let me go at once, and I could travel back to London, and only my mother and Sophia be the wiser. Of course, I see now that I was very foolish. But that is the whole truth, my lord.”

“Foolish?” he said. “You were mad! Good God, what a damnable muddle!” He sprang up, and began to pace to and fro. Over his shoulder he threw at her: “You little fool, Sophia was never worth the risk you took. You may have saved her from me, but there will be others soon enough.”

“Oh no,” she said distressfully. “Oh no, my lord!”

“I tell you, yes. Now what the devil’s to be done to get you out of this coil?”

“If you would arrange a passage for me on the packet, my lord, I could manage very well,” she said.

A swift smile lit his eyes. “What, dare you brave the sea again?”

“I must,” she answered. “I dare say it will not be so rough this tune.”

The smile died; he shook his head impatiently. “No, you can’t do that. There’s no going home now.”

She looked startled. “Where else can I go? I must go home.”

“You can’t,” he repeated. “Do you realize you’ve been in my company since yesterday? My poor girl, it’s you who are ruined, not Sophia.”

She said placidly: “But I am not ruined. I can think of some tale to tell that will satisfy people.”

He gave a short laugh. “Once it’s known you were aboard my yacht, no one will believe you innocent, my dear,” he said.

“But no one need—” She stopped, remembering the note she had left for her mother.

He read her thought. “Left a letter, did you? Of course you did! What woman ever did not?”

She felt abashed, and said nothing. He came back to the fireplace, and stood scowling down at her. “Let’s finish this bout with buttons off,” he said. “I don’t care to make mistakes. The fault may be mine, but what business have you with a mother—with a sister such as Sophia?”

“Sir,” said Miss Challoner, giving nun a very straight look,

“I don’t design to be thought above mamma or Sophia.”

“Design!” he said scornfully. “You are above them. They

—but I don’t wish to offend you more than I have done.”

Miss Challoner said with composure: “You have insulted me in every conceivable way, sir, so pray do not boggle at plain speaking now. I assure you I shall hear you with equanimity.”

“Very well,” said his lordship, cold as ice. “Then I shall take leave to inform you, ma’am, that the manners of your parent and sister are neither those of persons of Quality, nor those of virtuous females. You, upon the other hand, are apparently both virtuous and gently bred. And,” continued his lordship with a flash of anger, “it is not my custom to abduct respectable young females.”

“I did not want you to abduct me,” Miss Challoner pointed out. “I am very sorry for your mistake, and I fear that my own conduct may have been partially to blame.”

“Your conduct,” said the Marquis crushingly, “was damnable! The manners you assumed at Newhaven were those of the veriest trollop; your whole escapade was rash, wanton, and ill-judged. If I had used my riding whip to school you as I promised you would have had no more than your just deserts.”

Miss Challoner sat very straight in her chair, and looked steadfastly down into her lap. “I could not think of any other way to keep Sophia safe from you,” she said in a small voice. “Of course, I see now that it was madness.” She swallowed something in her throat. “I never thought that you would take me instead.”

“You are a little fool,” replied the Marquis irritably.

“I may be a little fool,” retorted Miss Challoner, plucking up spirit, “but at least I meant it for the best. While as for you, my lord, you meant nothing but wicked mischief right from the start. You tried to rum Sophia, and when I would not let you, you ruined me instead.”

“Acquit me,” said his lordship coldly. “I don’t ruin persons of your quality.” .

“If you call me a respectable young female again, my lord, you will induce a fit of the vapours in me,” interrupted Miss Challoner with asperity. “If you had discovered my respectability earlier, it would have been the better for both of us.”

“It would indeed,” he agreed.