GypsyDukeEpub (12 page)

Csinka ambled forward. Usually, the old soothsayer gave him a hard time. Now that her precious son lay unconscious, he expected no less, but she ignored him and spoke only to Ardaix.

"Leave him. He is not the one."

The other gypsies in the camp had faith in Csinka's powers, but John remained skeptical. He had never seen her predict anything that could not easily be explained away, and she gave practically the same fortune to every outsider that crossed her palm with coin.

Ardaix faltered under her regard. "You would not question him? Why?"

Csinka shrugged and walked toward her wagon. She called back over her shoulder, "This time he is innocent."

John glared after her retreating form. He had always been innocent. He couldn't help it if he was a gorgio. He forced the resentment to leave his face as Ardaix turned his attention back.

"Stay away from the gentiles tomorrow…your grace. Do not give the family another reason to distrust you."

John nodded his acquiescence then turned on his heel. He had to speak with Dago. Perhaps he could find out who had done this. It was beginning to look as if Robert and his government friends were right. The gypsy camp had become a dangerous place.

If Dago and his mother were to discuss what had really occurred, they wouldn't do it in front of Marga. John crept behind the fortune teller's wagon and hid in the trees until Marga left to return to her tent.

His eyes attuned to the blackness of the night as he searched the camp one last time before leaving his hiding place. He dropped under the small window that afforded the wagon its only fresh air and found himself instantly rewarded.

"What have you done, Dago? You will tell me this time."

"Why do you berate me?"

"You are always up to something. Now tell me. What have you done to bring the wrath of the gorgios on you?"

"Nothing, I tell you. Nothing."

Dago's voice sounded desperate, even to John.

Csinka clucked her tongue. "If only your brother…I should have at least one son to care for me in my old age, one who would not care more for himself than he does for me."

"Hah! It is because of your other son that I suffer. Love him all you want, old woman. I've risked my neck to keep him for you…not that you'll ever thank me…Bah! Why do I bother?"

There was a loud noise as Dago slammed his way out of the wagon. John dove for the cover of trees and watched Dago stroll to the nearly dead fire at the center of camp.

Evidently, there was something going on that John didn't understand. He'd never heard of Dago's brother, but now was not the time to ask. Dago had not looked on him too kindly since Marga began paying him so much attention.

He crept to his tent, hoping Rasvan and his other roommate were already asleep. He slipped inside and peeled off his clothes before dropping down to a pile of blankets.

A soft voice startled him. "Did you hear anything helpful?"

Rasvan.

John swore. The man had super hearing and eyes in the back of his head. John had never been able to hide anything from him. "I'm not sure. Does Dago have a brother somewhere?"

"I seem to recall something like that. A half-brother, perhaps. I think Csinka married once before, part of another band of the husbands."

John frowned. Husbands meant the rulers of the gypsy people or pretty close to that. So, Csinka had once been part of another tribe of gypsies. "Where, Rasvan? Where is the brother?"

"France, maybe. I heard he died. But that was long ago. On the continent, the husbands never stay in one country for long. It's safer that way."

John was silent a long while, and he thought Rasvan must have gone to sleep. He started when Rasvan spoke again.

"What are you going to do, John? Where'd you go today?"

"Do not concern yourself. I did not betray your people."

"I've never treated you that way, and I saved your hide more times than I can count, taken your beatings when you did the wrong thing, swore that you were somewhere when you were not..."

The swift angry answer brought a twinge of guilt to John's already burdened mind. He rubbed his eyes in the darkness and sighed.

"You are my brother. When I understand the situation myself, I will tell you. Go to sleep. I may need you on the morrow."

That was as close as John would ever get to making an apology, and they both knew it. Rasvan grunted then shifted for a few moments before quiet settled in the tent.

John closed his eyes. At the moment, he felt as if he was surrounded on both sides by a yawning chasm. The slightest move in the wrong direction would send him over the edge to his doom.

If only, he'd never left home. After three years, with more than enough time to think, he'd concluded he could have avoided his uncle indefinitely if only he'd gone away to school and spent his breaks at the London townhouse.

Perhaps that was wishful thinking. The only reason he'd thwarted his uncle was because he'd completely left polite society, disappearing on his own. There was no way for Bartholomew to blackmail him, if he couldn't be found.

Maybe, it was all for the best. It was too late to change things now. He'd put off writing Kitty for months, hoping he would finally be able to tell her he was coming home. And now he wasn't.

At that moment, he realized he'd made up his mind to work with Robert and the spies. With the decision made, he closed his eyes. If he didn't stay alert, tomorrow could be hazardous for his health.

1814

Kitty squared her shoulders and put on her most benign expression before entering the drawing room where her parents waited.

When she entered the room, her mother smiled up at her from the embroidery hoop where she worked.

Her father stepped forward a little anxiously and took both her hands in his.

"Ah, Kitty. How like your mother you've grown. Quite the young beauty. Are we ready for our come-out ball?"

Her expression changed not a whit. She would tell them what they wanted to hear. "Of course, Father. When do we leave for London?"

His rigid stance relaxed at her amenable manner. "You and your mother will leave tomorrow. I will follow a few days later. There are some estate matters to attend, and I don't fancy sitting about while you deck yourself out in all the latest frou-fraws."

"The duchess has chosen not to accompany us?"

Kitty's mother frowned slightly. "I thought we had already discussed this, Kitty. Considering that you are having a come-out ball where you will be introduced to the beau monde, it is unseemly to bring the duchess."

Kitty pretended ignorance of her mother's true meaning. "I cannot think of a more suitable chaperon before the ton, 'cepting yourself, Mother dear. The duchess is eminently respectable."

The earl had had enough of their continual disagreement. It had gone on for days, weeks even. "Rachel...Katherine...that is quite enough. My mind is made. We cannot be assured that Somerset will return to honor the betrothal," he said sharply. Then he shrugged, and his voice lowered. "And we cannot know what manner of man he has become. It would be imprudent to assume he will be…suitable as a husband to you, Kitty." He sighed. "I care not for joining the estates at the expense of your happiness, dear one. Try to understand."

He stepped closer to Kitty and tilted up her chin, exposing the bright sheen of unfallen tears puddled in her eyes. "Take this opportunity to offer yourself at the marriage mart. Think of it as a bit of romance. Who knows? Mayhap you will meet a man to sweep you off your feet."

"That has already happened, Father, and I was but nine years old. I do not believe he has changed. I know I have not."

"When was the last time he wrote you, sweeting?" Rachel asked her daughter.

Kitty frowned and turned her head aside. They knew the answer. "It has been several months." She thought desperately for another avenue of argument to use in John's favor. "Has he not kept all promises to you thus far, Father? The estates are tended. He sends funds for repairs. The duchess is well provided for."

The earl of Raeburn shook his head. "Somerset has nothing to do with that. The solicitor sends the funds, whether he has heard from the Duke or not. And according to him, it has been a very long time since the Duke corresponded." He tapped his fingers together. "He didn't keep all his promises, Kitty. He agreed to return when he was old enough to evict his uncle, but has he? No. You and your mother will leave tomorrow. It's time you got out of the country and saw the city. You've
been waiting for that man far too long as it is."

"But, Father, he did return. His uncle is gone. It is not his fault we were not on the estate. I am sure that whatever keeps him…will pass, and he will return to us. He knows I am of  marriageable age…"

The earl shook his head. "I am not at all sure he didn't choose to return when we were in London…and unavailable."

"Besides, Kitty," added the countess, "you are past the marriageable age. Another year and polite gentlemen would consider you on the shelf."

That was true. She was almost twenty, but Kitty had one card left to play. "How am I to receive a subscription to Almack's with the threat of scandal hanging over my head? You know, with John gone, it will appear as if I have been jilted. If the Duchess does not accompany us, I am done for. We need her support."

The earl's head whipped around to face his wife. They held each other's gaze for several seconds before he turned back to Kitty. "Very well, Kitty. The Duchess will be issued an invitation, but do not be surprised if she is unwilling to escort you."

"Thank you, Father. I feel certain that if God had chosen another man for my husband, he would have told me so."

"I'm not sure I have your same faith in that matter, Kitty…But I will continue to pray."

John glared at Robert. "Are you absolutely certain of this, Westley?"

Robert continued to ignore his friend's ill-humor, only increasing John's ire. Surely Robert knew it was a shock to learn that Kitty was searching for a husband!

"When was the last time you bothered to go home or even write? You promised the earl you would return when you turned one and twenty. You are now what, three and twenty? You cannot expect they will let Kitty sit idly by while you gallivant across the countryside. She is of marriageable age and comely. If one more year goes by, she will be ignored by the Quality."

"Not if I marry her!" John's demeanor darkened further. "This is your doing, Westley. I find myself in this predicament because you and your government friends cannot manage your own business."

Robert laughed. "Hah! You have had ample opportunities to retire from this business. You enjoy it, admit it."

"Perhaps, but not at the risk of losing Kitty."

"Frankly, Somerset, I grow weary of that argument. In the last five years, you have had nothing but a glance of Kitty. You were but a youth when you left; she a child. Neither of you has a reason to cling to this fantasy of love everlasting. Tell me true, do you love her? You don't even know her...don't even know what she looks like."

Had he kept unrealistic thoughts of his Kitty? Was that one area of his life where he'd not allowed himself to grow up, by clinging to an illusion? Robert was right in one aspect. John no longer knew Kitty. She would have little resemblance to that young girl he'd left.

Maybe that's why he spurned returning home. What if her devotion for him had changed? What if he wasn't worthy of that devotion, and she rejected him?

He couldn't bear it. Thoughts of Kitty kept him sane when every person he knew discarded him as the vagabond gypsy.

"Somerset…John...are you listening? If you want to stop Kitty before she finds herself a rich husband, you had best show up at that ball and charm her."

John brought his attention back to Robert. "Do you know how long it's been since I've entered polite society? I wouldn't have the foggiest notion of how to act or what to say. I'd make a fool of myself and lose her for sure."

"Not if you went as yourself. It's a masquerade ball."

"Surely you jest. A gypsy at a grand ball."

A careless shrug showed Robert's confidence in this scheme. "She'll have on a demi-mask. You'll wear one as well. No one would know you…But, you'd have to be a well-dressed gypsy…in a costume." Robert shuddered. "You couldn't dare show up in those rags."

"I have no need of anything finer with the gypsies. What of you; what will you wear? I will not be the only one in costume."

"If you insist, I will go as a buccaneer. Now, about this other business…"

"It's taken five years to work our way through Napoleon's associates. We will soon unravel the last thread of this traitor, and the Gypsies will be completely cleared."

"But your plan is risky. Do you have to sail to France? Numerous times we thought we had him only to find dead gypsies and dead operatives. What if this is another trap? I don't think that clan of yours will forgive another death. Your head will roll."

John rose to pace the bare wood floors of Robert's room. This inn offered little in the way of refinement, but it suited their purpose.

"I didn't start this, Dago did."