Lord Perfect (42 page)

"It isn't nonsense." Olivia
narrowed her eyes at her host. "You may
not
call my father a liar. He was a
gentleman
."

Peregrine looked at her. "Any moment now," he
muttered. "Off she'll go, like a rocket."

"We are all aware that your father was a gentleman,
Olivia," Benedict said in his most excessively bored voice. "I
should have thought that an educated girl of twelve could discern the
difference between a lie and a theory or supposition. If this
distinction eludes you, Lord Lisle will be happy to explain it to you
after breakfast. For the present, let us turn your attention to the
basic rules of proper conduct. Since I have no doubt your father and
mother took pains to teach you these rules, I can only suppose that
you have suffered a momentary lapse of memory. You may wish to leave
the room until you recover it."

The blue eyes flashed at him. He gave her a bored glance
and returned to his breakfast.

She looked at her mother, but Bathsheba was looking at
him… as though he were the sun and the moon and the stars.

Olivia excused herself and marched out of the dining
room, chin aloft.

There was a silence.

Footsteps broke it, from the hall beyond. Benedict heard
the confident click of boot heels on marble.

The footsteps paused, and Benedict heard a very low
rumble, then Olivia's indignant soprano in answer: "Lord
Rathbourne sent me out of the room to remember my manners."

More rumbling.

The footsteps recommenced.

The butler entered.

Benedict braced himself.

"Lord Hargate," said Keble, and Benedict's
father strode into the room.

AFTER A BREAKFAST that Benedict gave up pretending to
eat, Lord Hargate spoke privately with Lord Mandeville in the
latter's study.

Two full hours later, Benedict was summoned there.

He found Bathsheba in the hall outside, pacing. She
stopped short when she saw him.

His heart stopped short, too, before recommencing
unsteadily. "I thought you had gone," he said. "I
ordered a carriage. There is no need for you to endure this…
annoyance."

"I am not a coward," she said. "I am not
afraid of your father."

"You
ought
to be," he said. "Most sentient beings are."

"I refuse to run away and leave you to bear all the
blame," she said.

"It is not as though I am going to be hanged,"
he said. "He won't even beat me. He never beat us. His tongue
was much more effective. Oh, and his gaze. One look was worth a
thousand blows. But I am no longer a boy. I shall emerge from the
interview reeling rather than utterly crushed."

"I will not let him make you unhappy," she
said.

"I am not a damsel in distress," he said. "I
do not need you to slay dragons for me, you addled creature. Now I
understand where Olivia gets her mad ideas."

"I want you to go away," she said. "Go
for a ride or a walk. Leave this to me."

"Think again," he said. "I can guess what
you have in mind. You imagine you can try some of your DeLucey tricks
and lures upon him, and wrap him about your finger and have him
eating out of the palm of your hand. You have no idea what sort of
man you are dealing with."

"I don't care what sort of man he is," she
said. "You are not going in there alone."

"Bathsheba."

She knocked once on the study door, opened it, and swept
in, closing the door behind her.

He heard the key turn in the lock.

"Bathsheba," he said. He raised his fist to
pound on the door, then paused.

Scenes belong on the stage.

He turned away and walked quickly down the hall.

LORD HARGATE ROSE when she entered, his expression
polite. It was the same courteously blank look he'd accorded her at
breakfast. He did not so much as lift an eyebrow at her bursting in
on him or locking the door.

She understood where Rathbourne got his inscrutability.
And his height and bearing.

But Lord Hargate's hair was brown threaded with silver,
not black, and his eyes were a dark amber and as empty of expression
as if they had been made of a mineral.

The earl gestured to a chair.

"I prefer to stand, my lord," she said. "What
I have to say will take little time. I only wished to make it clear
that what has happened is not Lord Rathbourne's doing. I deliberately
put myself in your son's way. I did everything possible to enslave
him."

His lordship said nothing. His face told her nothing. A
mask would have had more expression.

"Rathbourne hadn't a prayer," she said. "I
left him no avenue of escape."

"Indeed," said Lord Hargate. "You
engineered the children's disappearance, then?"

The question took her aback. She had rehearsed her
speech. She'd had plenty of time. This element had not occurred to
her, however. She had been too agitated to think beyond a few simple
points—the obvious ones. She had only to appear to be what
everyone believed she was.

She decided against saying yes. That was too
far-fetched, even for a Dreadful DeLucey.

"No, but I used their disappearance to further my
plans," she said.

"And these were… ?"

"I wanted a wealthy lover."

"A great many men qualify for that position,"
said his lordship. "Why Benedict?"

"Because he was perfect, which made him a
challenge," she said. 'The Dreadful DeLuceys prefer to play for
high stakes."

"So I have heard," said Lord Hargate. "From
what I have observed, you have won. This being the case, I am vastly
puzzled at your undoing your work by admitting it to me."

"I should think the answer would be obvious,"
she said. "I am bored with him. So much perfection is tiresome.
I want to go away, but I am afraid he will follow me and make a
nuisance of himself."

A loud thump nearby made her start.

Lord Hargate calmly turned to regard the window. A large
dark shape filled it. Then the window opened, and Rathbourne climbed
through. He closed the window behind him, brushed off a few leaves,
and turned to face his father.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he said. "Something
seemed to be wrong with the study door. It wouldn't open."

"Mrs. Wingate locked it," said Lord Hargate.
"She wished to tell me that she has used you for her own
purposes, but now she is bored with your perfection and wishes to go
away. She is concerned that you will follow her and make a nuisance
of yourself."

"I think Mrs. Wingate must have fallen and hit her
head," Rathbourne said. "Not ten minutes ago I was urging
her to leave. I even ordered a carriage for her. She will not go.
Talk of nuisances."

"I came to your father for money," she said.

Rathbourne looked at her. "Bathsheba," he
said.

"I want fifty pounds to go away," she said.

This time Lord Hargate's eyebrows did go up. "Only
fifty?" he said. "It's usually a good deal more than that.
Are you sure you didn't mean five hundred?"

"I would mean five hundred if I supposed you
carried that much about with you," she said. "The trouble
is, I cannot wait for you to get more. Olivia is getting Ideas."
About servants and silk gowns and slippers and thick featherbeds and
two dozen different dishes laid out merely for breakfast.

"No, Olivia is getting a spade," said Lord
Hargate. "Lord Mandeville is taking her and Lisle to the
mausoleum to dig for treasure."

"Oh, no." Bathsheba turned to Rathbourne.
"What is wrong with him? Could he not see what she is like?"

"She rose to her father's defense when she thought
Mandeville had impugned his honor," said Lord Hargate. "Her
reaction moved Mandeville deeply. I believe he means to intervene
with Fosbury on her behalf."

"No!" she cried. "Rathbourne, you must
not let them. The Wingates will take her from me, and she is all I
h-have." Her voice broke then, and she did, too. All the anxiety
and heartache she'd suppressed welled up and overcame her, and the
tears she'd held back for so long spilled down her cheeks.

Rathbourne came to her and put his arms around her.
"They will not take her away, and she is not all you have,"
he said. "You have me."

"D-don't be so th-thick," she said. "I
d-don't want you." She pushed him away and hastily wiped her
eyes. "I want f-fifty pounds. And my daughter. And then I will
go away."

"I regret that is not possible," said Lord
Hargate.

"Very well. Twenty pounds."

'Twenty quid?" Rathbourne said. "That is all I
am worth to you?"

"Your grandmother insisted that it would be a great
deal more," said Lord Hargate. "I am comforted to learn she
was wrong in that at least."

"Grandmother knows what's happened?"
Rathbourne said. "Oh, but why do I ask? Of course she does."

"Who do you think it was who told me of your mad
escapades upon the Bath Road?" said his father. "She had a
letter from one of her spies in Colnbrook. Naturally I did not
believe any of it. For some reason, your mother did. We had a wager.
Perhaps you can imagine my feelings, to discover it was all true.
Perhaps you can imagine my feelings, upon learning from that busybody
Pardew, of all people, that my eldest son was brawling—on the
public highway!—with a lot of drunken clodhoppers in the middle
of the night. It is the sort of thing one expects of Rupert,
naturally—but not one's eldest son… who has always stood
as a shining example to his peers as well as his brothers. Of all of
them, I had thought that you at least knew where your duty lay,
Benedict."

"He knew it until he became besotted with me, and
lost all powers of reason," Bathsheba said.

The cool amber gaze returned to her. "Then I agree
it would be well if you were on your way, madam. However, Mandeville
and I have decided that, to prevent any future unfortunate episodes,
it were best for your daughter to discover for herself the truth
about Edmund DeLucey's treasure. Mandeville prefers that you do not
take her away until she and Lisle have done excavating. I cannot in
good conscience pay you any sum until then. The structure is large. I
doubt they will finish before tomorrow."

Chapter 19