Lady in the Stray (19 page)

“I’ll tell you what I think!” offered Charlot. “I think it would be nacky if Edouard turned out to be a spy!”

“The fellow does sound as if he’d be the better for a good hanging!” Mr. Appleby enthusiastically agreed. “I see what it is, Lionel: this Edouard, fellow has some hold over your Minette. That’s why she’s betrothed herself to him. The chit is afraid of him, poor thing!”

Afraid? His Minette? Lionel started up out of his chair. “I’ll hang the blackguard myself!”

“No, no, don’t do that, old chap!” Mr. Appleby also rose quickly, determined to prevent his friend from setting forth immediately to settle the dastardly Edouard’s accounts. A brief tussle ensued, during which Mr. Appleby was divested of his wig and Lionel bruised his knuckles and the furnishings were greatly disarranged. At length the two combatants sank down, panting, in their respective chairs.

“Dashed if you don’t have a handy set of fives!” said Mr. Appleby as he gingerly inspected his abused jaw. “But I could wish you wasn’t so ready to mill down your friends.”

“Then my friends shouldn’t attempt to prevent my doing what I wish!” snapped Lionel. “You’re sitting on your wig.”

Again, a flurry of activity ensued. Mr. Thorpe observed his colleague’s wig retrieved, and the rat’s revival, with a somewhat jaundiced eye. “It’s all very good to wish to fix everything up all right and tight, but we must proceed through the proper channels. The law is not to be trifled with.”

Charlot was not impressed by this observation. “In that case, both my sister and I are likely to end up in jail. I shouldn’t mind, myself, but Vashti is a pudding-heart. Remember, the memorandum is in our house, and Cousin Marmaduke doubtless had a hand in putting it there. Is that treason, do you think?”

Mr. Appleby wasn’t
au courant
with that somewhat obscure point. “Well,” he admitted, “I don’t know! We must do something, at all events.”

So they must. The gentlemen pondered their dilemma, Mr. Thorpe occasionally muttering under his breath about precedents.

They had missed the point, thought Lionel, and it was an oversight for which he must be glad. That Minette had known enough to tell him about the memorandum didn’t look well. Were Edouard a French agent, his culpability extended to his accomplice, willing or no.

Was
Minette willing? That was the crux of the matter, Lionel realized. Then a further possibility smote him. Perhaps Minette herself was the spy.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As result of her recent confrontation with provoking Lord Stirling, Vashti was feeling a trifle out of sorts. Indeed, if truth be told, she was as cross as a cat. This irritation of the spirits she attempted to alleviate by means of a nice long soak in a hip bath. Unfortunately, the bath was not designed for prolonged soaking, and the water rapidly grew cold. Of this latter fact, Vashti only became aware when she commenced to shiver, so rapt had she been in thought.

So his lordship would not censure her? His lordship had censured her continually from the first moment they had met. Considering he believed her guilty of grave duplicity, Stirling had been surprisingly forbearing, nonetheless. How could Vashti convince him his suspicions were unfounded? The truth clearly would not serve. And why the deuce should she be so concerned with the opinion of a self-confessed rogue?

A rascal, was his lordship? Vashti decided Yves Santander was also something of a philanderer. He had a way with the ladies, of that there was no doubt. Though Vashti’s experience in such matters was scant, she doubted few gentlemen could insult and berate a lady and still hold her intrigued. As for herself, Vashti decided she was something of a pea-goose, else she wouldn’t dwell wistfully upon thoughts of his lordship philandering with her. The male of the species was an odiously contrary creature. Even Charlot had taken advantage of her absence from Mountjoy House to slip away on some mysterious errand of his own. She would have a great deal to say to that young man upon his return, decided Vashti as she stepped out of the bath.

The opulently Oriental bedchamber was dimly lit by candlelight. Sinister shadows lurked about the lacquered cabinet, the pine bureau bookcase, the huge tent bed where Calliope snoozed. Vashti wrapped a large towel around herself, walked across the Axminster carpet to dry her hair by the fire that blazed on the hearth, averting her gaze from the carved mandarins that leered from the ornamental panel of the oak mantelpiece. Dragons and pagodas and the like might have suited the eccentric Marmaduke, but Vashti didn’t applaud her cousin’s taste. She couldn’t banish an uneasy expectation that the grotesque figures might momentarily spring to life. A slight noise alerted her. Nervously, she glanced at the door.

Before Vashti’s astonished gaze, the carved mandarin doorknob turned, and the door swung slowly inward. But she had locked it before commencing her ablutions! Perhaps the ghost was paying her another visit? No raddled figure from a previous era stepped across the threshold, however. This was a gentleman in proper evening dress.

A gentleman? Vashti’s treacherous heart raced. Could it be—The intruder’s face was in shadow. But though Lord Stirling might well have worn a white waistcoat and dark-blue coat, light-colored breeches and silk stockings and shiny pumps, he would never have affected gilt buttons as large as saucers, or such an inordinate number of fobs and seals.

The intruder stepped forward, raised a quizzing glass. Edouard! Vashti froze, as motionless as one of the mantel’s carved mandarins.

So overwhelming was the late Marmaduke’s bedchamber on first viewing that Edouard did not immediately realize he was not alone. Nor, for this oversight, may he be fairly blamed. Few chambers existent could boast a combination of vaulted ceilings and Gothic windows juxtapositioned with Chinese wallpapers and lavish Oriental furnishings, although this horror was quite in keeping with the rest of Mountjoy House. With fascinated revulsion Edouard surveyed the room. But he had come to search, not to marvel—and then his affronted gaze swung to the hearth.

It is difficult to say who was the more stunned, Vashti or Edouard, but he recovered first. Gad, but Vashti Beaufils was a fetching piece, crouched there before the fire, clad in naught but a towel, her amber eyes wide with fright, and her honey-colored hair drying into riotous curls. Had he only time—

“Pardon,
Mademoiselle Beaufils!” he said genially. “I had not expected to find you here.
Tout de même,
it may yet prove a stroke of good fortune. I have been wishing that we might have a
tête-à-tête
.”

Slowly, tightly clutching the towel, Vashti stood upright. “How
dare
you, sir!” she gasped. “Leave this room at once!”

“It is a compromising situation in which you find yourself.” Chillingly, Edouard laughed. “Do you but oblige me, our business may be concluded in a few moments, and you may preserve your honor intact. Do you
not
oblige me—” He shrugged. “How very lovely you are, mademoiselle, when you are looking absolutely sick with fright. So lovely, in fact, that you tempt me to alter my plans. Tell me, pretty Vashti, how would you like a shawl embroidered in gold and silver acorns? A sable muff?”

Was the man mad? Vashti reached behind her for the fireplace poker, managing with difficulty to keep the towel in place. “All I want from you, sir, is that you leave this room!”

“And that I cannot do,
hélas.”
Indolently, Edouard strolled across the Axminster carpet, pausing to glance beneath the cushions in an imitation bamboo chair. “Accord me your attention, mademoiselle, and we may strike a bargain that will benefit us both. You wish to return to France.
Alors,
so do I; and time grows short. Perhaps you do not know that Bonaparte delivered an order to Junot that all Englishmen between the ages of eighteen and sixty, or holding any commission from His Britannic Majesty, are to be constituted prisoners of war. Already the cutter
Nancy
and the packet
Prince of Wales
have been seized at Calais. Do you understand the significance? The Peace of Amiens draws to an end. If we are to return to France, it must be now.”

Briefly, Vashti forgot her own peril. “Papa!” she cried.

“Is that the price of your cooperation?” Indifferent, Edouard continued to disarrange the room’s furnishings. “So be it. Minette’s price was more dear.
Eh bien!
We are agreed. You will hand over to me that which I seek, and I will arrange that you are reunited with your father.”

Not even for an instant was Vashti tempted to accept this offer. “I
thought
Minette did not wish to marry you! You threatened her, I suppose. All for a wretched memorandum that no one is certain exists. Well, your luck is out, sir. I don’t know where the wretched thing is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell
you!”

“Enfin, du courage!”
Edouard mocked. “Your bravery is very foolish, mademoiselle. As are your lies. I have explored a great many of the nooks and crannies of this abominable old house, and I have concluded that I waste my time. You have played a clever game with me. Mountjoy left you word where he had hid the memorandum. You have bided your time.” His indolent manner changed. “I will have the memorandum now, if you please.”

Had Vashti possessed the blasted memorandum, she would have immediately handed it over, so menacing had Edouard’s manner become. “I don’t have it!” she protested, and raised the poker. “Stay away from me!” Whatever Edouard’s failings, he was no coward. With a vicious oath, he sprang.

It was a very short struggle, and the outcome was never in doubt. Vashti was no match for Edouard’s strength, and she was additionally hampered by her efforts to maintain decorum with her towel. In those attempts, she was not entirely successful. Edouard’s breath quickened; he twisted her arm behind her, so roughly she cried out. With his free hand he reached for the towel.

“Merde alors!”
came an indignant voice from the doorway. Edouard released Vashti as abruptly as if she were a hot coal.

Sobbing, Vashti retrieved the towel and stumbled away from him. “Minette! Thank God!” she gasped.

“Oui! C’est moi.”
Minette closed the door, then bestowed upon her kinsman a severe glance.
“Mon dieu,
Edouard, what is this madness? Is it not enough that you must betroth yourself to me, without additionally forcing yourself on Vashti? And if it was Vashti you wanted all along, why
did
you betroth yourself to me? It has all been most inconvenient, because I wished to be betrothed to—to someone else!” She put a comforting arm around the weeping Vashti. “There, there! I fully enter into your feelings. Edouard is a swine.”

Vashti mopped her damp face with the edge of her towel. “You
do
fancy—”

“Oui!”
interrupted Minette with a warning frown.

“I thought so!” By this intimation that at least one of her assumptions had been correct, Vashti was a little cheered. “Then why—”

“Pfui!” Minette said crossly. “It was stupidly done of me, but what have you? Edouard is mad as Bedlam, as you can observe. Always he nourishes the evil design—and always he seeks to embroil me. This time he offers me the highly flattering alliance— oh, yes, I assure you it is true! I am to return with him to France, and set myself up in the latest mode.”

“In a shawl embroidered with gold and silver acorns,” supplied Vashti, “and a sable muff? My dear, I fear you have been quite taken in.”

“Jamais!”
retorted Minette, severely. “Edouard would prefer to see me adorned in my shroud. But he is a dangerous man to cross, and so I led him on a little bit. I did not really believe he would keep his promises to me,
naturellement—
he never has yet!
Ah, ça,
who are you to scold me,
chérie?
I am not the only one who has pretended a little bit. You are not at all like Marmaduke described you! A regular dash, he said you were. I say, in a pig’s eye!”

“Do you know, I am very tired of hearing all that I am not?” Vashti glowered, equally cross. “And for you to rail at me is like the pot calling the kettle black. Cousin Marmaduke thought I was another member of the family, Valérie.”

“Tiens!”
Minette digested this information.
“Ma chére,
that won’t fadge. Marmaduke may have been eccentric, but he wasn’t insane. It is not conceivable to me that he could have mixed up your names.”

“He could have if Valérie used mine.” Vashti shivered in her damp towel. “Which I promise you she did. And if ever I set eyes on Valérie again—”

“Que diable!
You are so angry, Vashti, that I think this queer explanation must be true! So Marmaduke was taken in by this Valérie. How he would laugh to hear it.” Envisioning her deceased benefactor’s amusement, Minette clapped her hands.

One member of the less-than-convivial little group, however, was a great deal less amused.
“Assez!”
Edouard snapped.

Minette did not immediately attend. “I know just
how it is!” she said to Vashti with a great sigh. “One does not like to admit that a member of one’s own family is not
comme il faut.
Me, I feel similarly about Edouard. And he is the member of my family left, which makes it doubly unfortunate that he is a
vipère.”

Again, the
vipère
sought to gain the ladies’ attention.
“Je m’excuse!”
He was sufficiently successful that they realized he held a gun. “Oh,
la vache!”
muttered Minette, staring at the pistol. Vashti blanched.

“About the memorandum,” Edouard continued. “I
will
have it—and I warn you both that my patience grows short.”

“Patience? Bah!” Minette flounced to one of the mock-bamboo chairs and sat down. She glanced at the frightened Vashti. “Do not look so terrified,
chérie.
Edouard dares not shoot us without bringing down on himself the whole house.”

Vashti doubted such considerations would weigh with this man. Furthermore, he dared not leave them able to raise the alarm.

Perhaps she might somehow stall for time. What such delaying tactics might achieve, Vashti was not certain. No one else was likely to invade her bedchamber, and catch Edouard off guard.