Joan Smith (23 page)

O’Kelly was, of course, gone; Lord Clappet had not yet returned, but the gentlemen were extremely thirsty, and stopped “Just to wet our whistles. This is thirsty work,” Norman said by way of excuse, and Sir Charles agreed entirely.

Their next idea was “to round up a bunch of fellows to give us a hand. There’s bound to be a riot in progress when we find Sheba.”

The fellows naturally had to hear what necessitated this gathering of a rescue team, and did it over a couple of ales. They did finally go off in search of Sheba and Lord Clappet, but missed them, and after an hour’s looking, they all returned to the Golden Lion to find Sheba sound asleep in her stall. A suspicious odor of ale hung in the air, and beside her was another full bucket, awaiting her pleasure.

Trudie’s first instinct was to go with Norman and Nicolson to help Clappet, till she remembered her rather prominent part in Peter’s bad bargain, at which time she elected to remain at home. In vain did she tell herself it wasn’t her fault; she hadn’t made Peter buy Sheba. But she had suggested it to him and encouraged him every step of the way. She had also introduced O’Kelly to Peter and Nick, and she and her aunt had made a special pet of him. Worst of all, she had done it all behind Luten’s back, knowing how much he would dislike it.

She hardly remembered, or cared, that all O’Kelly’s fine talk of loving her and having her and Mrs. Harrington to Doneraile had been an act. She was on nettles worrying what the outcome would be, and let her aunt do the repining over O’Kelly’s crooked character. Her concern was how she could undo the harm she had caused, and what she would say to Luten when he showed up at the door to give her a blast, as he surely would. Amid her other fears was that O’Kelly would, in some evil way, let Luten know she had boasted of having attached him. Really that bothered her as much as the rest.

Several hours passed. An indifferent dinner was prepared and served and returned largely uneaten to the kitchen, and all the while the fever burned. Trudie’s first wish that Luten wouldn’t come till tomorrow changed. She wished he would come at once and have it done with, for she couldn’t endure any more waiting.

Luten didn’t hear of the escapade till nine o’clock that evening, when a friend who was putting up at the Golden Lion called at Sable Lodge. “I was sorry to hear about your nephew’s being fleeced by that bounder, O’Kelly,” his friend said.

Luten felt a cold shadow pass over his heart. He had been afraid of some such thing but hoped his warnings had been heeded. “I haven’t heard the story—enlighten me,” he said.

“It’s all anyone is talking of in town. I made sure your nephew would have come to you for help.” Luten felt a twinge of guilt at that speech. By the time he got to the Golden Lion and had sorted the facts from the highly embroidered tales contrived to confuse him, it was ten o’clock, and too late to go to Northfield. What he had heard at the inn led him to believe Miss Barten was deeply enmeshed in the affair.

He turned a wrathful eye on Norman and said, “Pray tell the ladies I will call on them early tomorrow morning. I am eager to hear why your sister urged this bargain on my nephew. As she is such an intimate friend of O’Kelly, she might shed some light on his whereabouts.”

Norman leapt to Trudie’s defense. “Come with me now, this instant. You’ll learn she had nothing to do with it, I promise you.” He glared at Peter as he spoke. Sir Charles’s mind fled joyfully to duels, of which at least two seemed to be brewing, if Norman survived Peter’s onslaught and lived to tackle Luten after he had finished insulting Trudie.

“I have already learned she urged Sheba on Clappet,” Luten said. Then he turned a fierce look on his nephew and added, “Not that you are innocent. I warned you away from that blackleg.”

“Let’s go!” Sir Charles exclaimed, and picked up his hat and crop, for he had no intention of missing such a bang-up fight as he foresaw,

Luten gave him a foul glare. “This is not a public performance. You and Clappet will wait here. I’ll come back directly after speaking to Miss Barten.”

“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, Nick,” Norman added, for they none of them counted on Luten to give a decent recital of events.

Sir Charles took Norman aside and said in a low voice, “You know who you can count on if it comes to a duel. I shouldn’t think you’d stand still for letting Luten call your sister an accomplice in this imbroglio. As to Peter—you can either apologize or call him out. Up to you. Be very happy to oblige you. Fortunately, I brought my dueling pistols with me. I shall have a gander at the Code Duelo tonight—quite sure I can second you for two duels. Nothing wrong in that.”

Norman stared. “Oh, it won’t come to that—will it?”

“I hope not,” Nicolson lied, “but if it does, you can count on me.”

The lights were still burning at Northfield, though Mrs. Harrington had retired half an hour before. Only Trudie was in the saloon, awaiting her brother’s return. She bounced from the sofa when the front door opened, and ran into the hallway. “What happened? Did you
...
” She saw Luten behind Norman, and fell silent. She backed away fearfully, for she had never seen him in such a rage. His face was white, and angry lines pulled his lips down.

“I came here in the hope that
you
would tell
me
what happened,” he said in a thin, imperious voice, and stepped past her into the saloon.

“He knows what happened,” Norman told her. “Luten has the cork-brained notion that you put Peter up to buying Sheba. I brought him here so you can tell him it is no such a thing. It was all his own idea. Imagine that jackal of a Clappet saying you had anything to do with it! He was just afraid of Luten’s revenge.”

Luten pretended to ignore this remark, though he was shaken to hear himself spoken of in such harsh terms. His friend too had seemed surprised that Peter hadn’t gone to him for help in his trouble. He turned to Trudie and said, “Well?” in such a cold voice that something inside her froze. She thought it was her heart, except a frozen heart could not pound so mercilessly as hers was doing.

When no words came from her, Norman spoke again. “As I recall, it was Peter and Nick who told us O’Kelly was leaving, after he had been dunned for payment at the inn. Isn’t that what Auntie said? Peter knew more about his doings than we did.”

Mrs. Harrington had indeed tampered a little with the truth there, but only to hide from Norman that Mr. O’Kelly had taken luncheon with them.

“It is not what my nephew told me,” Luten said. His dark eyes demanded an explanation. “Miss Barten, just tell me one thing: Did you, or did you not, act as go-between for O’Kelly in this scheme to fleece my nephew? Peter tells me you put the deal to him that Sheba was for sale at a bargain price. If he is hiding behind a lady’s skirts, he will be called to account for it.”

“Of course she didn’t!” Norman exclaimed impatiently. “Tell him, Trudie.”

Now two angry pairs of eyes glared at her. She licked her lips nervously and faced up to the truth. “I did tell Peter, but I wasn’t a go-between.”

“I’d like to know what else you would call it!” Luten shouted, while Norman gasped, “Trudie! You didn’t!”

“You all thought Sheba was a marvelous racer!” she reminded Norman. “I thought it was too good an opportunity to miss, and O’Kelly needed money for his sister. At least he told us so.”

“Widowed sister,
no doubt?” Luten sneered.

“Yes, and with three children. He is supporting them—at least—well, he
said
he was. I—I suppose it is all a hum?”

Luten looked positively disgusted. “I am happy to say I am not on such intimate terms with O’Kelly as you, ma’am. I have always been a little careful whom I associate with, though you might not think so,” he added.

This was interpreted by her to mean that he despised her, and regretted the association. Her fear subsided, and a lick of anger grew in its place. She felt her blood quicken under his bold gaze. Her chin went up, and her tone firmed amazingly. “No doubt that is why you used an intermediary when you were trying to buy Sheba yourself. Mr. O’Kelly took the idea it was because you knew he wouldn’t let you have her. A clever move, Lord Luten, but not clever enough to fool Mr. O’Kelly.”

“I made no offer. I wouldn’t have the nag as a gift.”

Trudie allowed a cool smile to lift her lips. “I seem to recall you were interested in her as a brood mare.”

“For fifty guineas—possibly!”

“That’s not precisely a gift!”

“You knew what I thought the filly was worth! I warned you she was impossible to race, and still you urged her on Clappet. That was unconscionable behavior, gulling a youngster.”

“But that is exactly why I told Peter he must insist on a race before buying her,” she explained blandly. “O’Kelly told us you had offered for Sheba yourself, and Peter just wanted to cut you out.”

“You were trying to knife
me
in the back along with all the rest!” Luten raged. “You would take the word of that mongrel, O’Kelly, against mine. What magnificent price was I alleged to have offered?”

“Seven hundred pounds.”

“Did it not strike you as even a little bit suspicious that this offer was turned down?”

“No, for Mr. O’Kelly feared you would mistreat the filly. Word of your Turkish practices has got abroad, milord.”

Norman looked quite simply appalled. “I had no idea all this was going on. It’s those lunches O’Kelly cadged from us—
that’s
why he came here, and I thought he was only after the free meals. Luten, I’m afraid we owe you an apology!”

Luten was not appeased; it wasn’t Norman’s apology he was interested in. “It is you who deserve an apology from your sister,” he said curtly. “You have obviously been kept in the dark about her dealings with O’Kelly. I would keep a tighter rein on the ladies, if I were you. From selling Latin lessons to crooked horse-trading! What next, Miss Barten? I’m surprised O’Kelly left you behind, for I am convinced the pair of you would deal famously.”

Norman was on edge, feeling he ought to defend his sister, yet having to agree that she had gotten badly out of hand. Worst of all, Sir Charles’s offer to act as his second loomed at the back of his mind, and he truly abhorred violence.

Trudie was made of sterner stuff. Her anger flared, and it was made worse by Norman’s groveling demeanor. “I considered his offer!” she said boldly. “It is not the worst one I have received this Season, as
you
are very well aware, milord! I am sorry I suggested such a bad bargain to Peter, and to
him
I shall apologize. Not to you. If you were a proper guardian, your nephew would take his problems to you, instead of having to hide them from you. A guardian has more duties than laying down laws and distributing retribution. As a sportsman yourself, you must be familiar with the code: own up, pay up, and shut up. The bargain is done. Let us hear no more about it.”

Again Luten was assailed by a wave of guilt for his own laxity and his lack of closeness with Peter. He took a deep breath and proceeded to turn the tables on her. “I should have known a lady who hangs about the tracks like a common tout would be familiar with the code. Apparently it never occurred to you that the code applies to women as well. You have owned up to your part in this fracas;
I
hear no mention of paying up.”

She looked to Norman for guidance and saw only a troubled frown. Did the comparison of his sister to a racetrack tout require an apology? He knew Sir Charles would think so and did not wish to be behind-hand in chivalry. “Now see here, Luten,” he blustered, “I’m afraid I must demand an apology!”

Trudie knew there was no hope of an apology from their intransigent caller, and rushed in to divert disaster. “I am perfectly willing to bear the expense, if everyone agrees the fault is mine.”

Luten made a batting motion with his hand, dismissing her offer out of hand. This too angered her. “I have my dowry. I insist on paying!”

Norman looked at her aghast. “Trudie!” he squeaked, sounding very much like a frightened mouse.

She arose majestically. “Please tell Lord Clappet to send me the bill.”

Luten arose and ran a withering eye from Miss Barten’s titian head to her daintily shod foot. “I can assure you you will not be hearing from Lord Clappet again. The matter is settled, so far as we are concerned. He will be removing to Sable Lodge with me, till I arrange to send him back to London. I only came here to see if you can tell me O’Kelly’s whereabouts, but I see it was foolish. You wouldn’t tell me the truth if you acted in concert with him, and if he is the only scoundrel, then you don’t know where he is.”

Norman said, “I really must object
...
”

“No, you need not,” Luten said brusquely, “I believe your sister is only headstrong and foolish, not O’Kelly’s assistant. Good night.”

On this unconciliating speech, he turned and strode from the room. Norman, the gudgeon, said “Good night,” but at least she was able to restrain him from accompanying Luten to the door.

“He’s got a lot of nerve!” Trudie said when they were alone. “To be laying the whole sorry mess in
my
dish! As if
I
knew anything about getting horses drunk and putting live eels down their gullets.”

“You shouldn’t have offered to pay. It ain’t your fault. Not
all
your fault,” Norman answered.

“I’d rather pay than have him saying I fleeced his blasted nephew. I was only trying to do him a favor.”

Norman did not cut up at her, since he knew he had been backward in calling Luten to account. “What we ought to do is go after O’Kelly and make him pay up. Since he was all but living under my roof, perhaps you can tell me where in Ireland he lives?”

“He said on Dingle Bay, but I doubt he owns a shanty, much less an estate of a thousand acres. Was Luten saying he didn’t want us to see Peter again? Is that what he meant by saying he was moving him to Sable Lodge?”

“What do
you
think? I hardly expect he’ll invite us back for tea,” Norman said very ironically.

“You must find out from Peter just how much I owe him.”