Maggie MacKeever (22 page)

“Shannon did say one other thing,” offered Percy. “I forgot about it until now.”

Hope fluttered once more in Jynx’s breast. “What?”

Percy gazed upon her intent expression, the reddened hands clasped in her lap. “Sir Malcolm’s set the Runners after you.”

The Runners? The bloodhounds of Bow Street? Those nondescript and relentless agents of the law who so seldom failed in the execution of their duty, who by various unmentionable means delivered their victims—who were as often innocent as guilty—up to justice? And she had taken refuge with a lady who ran a highly illegal faro bank! “God in heaven,” whispered Jynx.

Chapter Seventeen

By mutual agreement, Lady Bliss was not informed that the dread runners were likely to come sniffing on her trail. Neither Lord Peverell, nor Cristin, nor Miss Lennox imagined that Lady Bliss would calmly accept such tidings; rather, they thought, owing to Lady Bliss’s recent queer behavior, that such tidings might drive her into a brainstorm. Additionally, it was Miss Lennox’s opinion, voiced only to herself, that she could hardly have been gifted with two less trustworthy co-conspirators, Cristin and Percy between them possessing a great deal less than common sense, and consequently being very likely to let the cat out of the bag. Having informed Lord Peverell very graphically of the hideous retribution that awaited him if he dared betray her to Lord Roxbury, Miss Lennox went in search of Tomkin. She found him engaged once more in argument with the chef, and diverted their attention from one another’s throats by an erudite discussion of
pâtés,
enormous pies made from all manner of rich meats, including
foie gras,
pheasants, truffles, veal and lamprey.

As a result of her efforts, peace reigned briefly over Blissington House. Lord Peverell took his departure, and Cristin retired tearfully to her chamber, and Adorée ventured to her book room. A stack of bills awaited her there, from her milliner and mantua-maker and various tradesmen. The respite made possible by the viscount had come to an end. Lady Bliss had a position to uphold, and how she could do so without spending money she did not know, and so the bills once more poured in.

These problems did not long distract Lady Bliss. No sooner had she seated herself than Tomkin brought to her an armful of red roses. When Lord Roxbury arrived unexpectedly, he found his hostess sniffling over the bouquet, and a note that had come with them, to the effect that she who plucks the devil’s posies must not mind a few thorns.

“A new admirer, Adorée?” he asked, ironically.

“Insouciant!”
Adorée clutched the roses to her breast, oblivious to thorns.
“Débauche!
And, distinctly,
formidable!”
The viscount raised a brow. “My dear fellow, I do not mean
you!”

Politely, Shannon refrained from expressing his relief. He suggested that the roses might show to advantage in the vase that Tomkin had fetched and now patiently held. That suggestion fell on deaf ears—Adorée was clutching and cooing over the flowers as if she held a newborn babe—and Shannon pointed out that she was mutilating the blooms. Adorée relinquished them, except for one; Tomkin arranged the flowers expertly, provided his mistress with refreshment, and then vanished discreetly.

“Who is this new admirer?” inquired Lord Roxbury, as he chose a comfortable chair. “Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“He is not precisely an admirer.” Adorée gazed soulfully upon the rose she held. “Nor, all things considered, is he likely to be, and it is the most wretched piece of luck. But there it is! I must thank you for settling my accounts.”

Lord Roxbury’s knowing eye moved to the untidy stack of papers on the writing desk, but he made no comment. Her ladyship’s financial affairs were of little concern to him. Of even less was the identity of the gentleman who had dealt her a
coup de foudre.
“We had a bargain, if you recall. You were to tell me what you could about Miss Lennox.”

Thus recalled to reality, and to the necessity of throwing Lord Roxbury off the scent. Lady Bliss sipped her sherry. “You have done some absurd things in that quarter, I hear.”

“Oh?” said the viscount, dangerously. “What have you heard, Adorée? And from whom?”

“Lud! Everybody is talking about it, and I’m sure I can’t remember who said what! It is a subject that has gained no small attention in the world. Do you know, Shannon, I fear that the exaggerated praises that have been all your life bestowed on you have given you an exaggerated idea of your own worth! It argues a shocking insensibility that you should rip up at the child that way.”

Lord Roxbury had grown very weary of hearing himself referred to as the villain of the piece. “I see I must acquaint you with precisely what happened. Pray reserve your judgment, ma’am, until I am through!” He embarked upon his version of the fateful night.

Adorée, who had already heard another account of the proceeding, fixed her gray eyes on his face, assumed an expression of intense interest, and paid him not the slightest heed. Instead she contemplated a speedy departure from her London of raffish high society, of gaming and clubs and theaters and the opera, Vauxhall Gardens and prize fights— and tradesmen who were so insistent on prompt payment of one’s bills. Since the idyllic country cottage was out of the question, perhaps a course of sea bathing and sea drinking at Brighton? The waters were said to be good for asthma, cancer, consumption, deafness, raptures, rheumatism, impotence and madness. Adorée was in excellent physical health, but it could not be denied that Lord Erland had touched her heart and gravely endangered her peace of mind.

The viscount had become aware that his hostess paid him very little attention. He regarded her. She wore a blue gown of raw silk, rich in texture, with a drawstring neck. Just then, she became aware of his silence. “Poor soul!” said she.

Lord Roxbury did not imagine, even briefly, that this sympathy was for him. “Good God, Adorée!” he snapped, at patience’s end. “I did not mean to question her conduct, but to warn her against——”

“Innis. I know.” Lady Bliss nodded. “I cannot think that you went about the thing
wisely.”

The viscount was fated, it seemed, to encounter frustration at every turn. Percy had been far from informative, had taken offense at Shannon’s blunt questions, and had retired in a snit; and the Runners thus far had not been able to trace Jynx one step. “Dammit, Adorée, I must find her! At least ascertain if she is safe.”

Lady Bliss, forewarned by her niece that Lord Roxbury had expressed a wish to do Miss Lennox physical harm, was not disarmed by this outburst. “You should have thought of that sooner,” she remarked callously. “Your fiancée, Shannon, is not the sort of female to yield up her reputation in society for the temporary gratification of any whim, and I know of what I speak, because I
am! As
for Innis, and the association that you accused her of, that’s nonsense!”

“Is it?” Shannon looked very grim. “You can’t deny she met him here.” Adorée opened her mouth. “Or you
could,
but I beg you won’t, because I know better!”

Obviously he did, but how? She hadn’t told him, and Innis certainly wouldn’t have. “Tomkin!” Lady Bliss said wrath-fully. “So that’s why he’s been glooming around the house! I’ll see him without a character for this!”

With a patience that he did not usually possess, Shannon set about calming Adorée. He pointed out Tomkin’s long and faithful service; he also pointed out that without Tomkin’s services, she would be in a fix, for he knew of her perennial difficulties with housemaids. “He meant it for the best, you know! Tomkin knew that Miss Lennox’s visits here would bring her under the gravest censure, were they to be known.”

“But they wouldn’t have been known,” Adorée responded unkindly, “if you hadn’t made such a piece of work of it!” She frowned. “In fact, I don’t think they
are
known, because Sir Malcolm hasn’t come breathing fire at me—and he would, I’m sure. Maybe that part of your exchange wasn’t overheard. For which I must be grateful! I tell you. Shannon, your tongue is as fearsome as the sword.”

Lord Roxbury wished he had such a weapon, then was glad he did not, lest he have decapitated his hostess. Never had she been so unreceptive to him. Generally, in matters of the heart, Adorée could be counted on to dispense compassion and surprisingly sound advice. Or perhaps she didn’t precisely understand. “I must make a confession,” he said. “I know I behaved badly, but so did Jynx. However, what’s done is done! I
must
find her, Adorée.”

Shannon was not to know that Lady Bliss had fallen fathoms deep in love with a gentleman who was prohibited by every possible circumstance from returning her sentiment, a gentleman who was obviously aware—as witnessed by the roses—of the warmth of her regard and who meant to make of her his cat’s-paw; or that as a result she was this day feeling unkindly disposed toward all mankind.
“Find
her?” she echoed. “Do you mean to tell me that you’ve misplaced Miss Lennox?”

“She’s run away from home, as you’d know if you’d been listening. Adorée, give me your attention, do! This is important.”

“Ah, and because it is important to you, all other concerns must be abandoned by the wayside! Has it never occurred to you, Shannon, that
my
concerns might be of even greater importance to me? I suppose not! You are very used to having things your own way.” It occurred to Adorée that she was being a little hard on a young man with whom she had idled away many a pleasant hour. “But I will scold you no more! What did you wish to say to me?”

Shannon, however, had been in the past days so heaped with recrimination that he had begun to wonder if the things said of him might not be true. He dropped his head into his hands. “I gather she means to avoid everything that could remind her of me, and to think of me no more. Well, I won’t have it! Adorée, what am I to do?”

Lady Bliss might be proof against a young man in an intractable mood, but her kind heart was far from immune to a young man in dire straits. “Shannon——”

“And don’t tell me that I must bear with resignation my irreparable loss, or resign myself to the will of God and reap what consolation I can from the idea that Jynx is better off without me!” Lord Roxbury was stern. “She’s not, and I’m not, and I refuse to listen to such fustian.”

Lady Bliss stared at him. “I think that the agonies of guilt you have suffered have deranged your mind! As if
I
would spout such nonsense! Are you saying, Shannon, that you still want to marry the girl?”

“I’ve never wanted to marry anyone else!” The murderous expression on Lord Roxbury’s face might have led a less knowledgeable lady to doubt his sincerity. “But Jynx is so damned skittish
,
and I dared not put her to the question! Then
she
put the question to me. Things were going along in the most promising way—and then popped up the matter of that curst ring.” So distrait was the viscount that his red-gold curls were discovered, and his immaculate cravat askew. “At least tell me, Adorée, how Innis came to have the ring.”

So moved was Lady Bliss by his obvious distress that she might have done so, if only she’d known. Fortunately—or, perhaps, unfortunately—she did not. “I’ve no notion,” she admitted. “It does look very strange. I do know that Miss Lennox has a passion neither for Innis nor for game.”

Shannon was far too unhappy to question her prescience. “I must be grateful for that,” he said gloomily. “Was it true that Jynx came here only to see your niece?”

“I don’t know why else she should have done so.” Lady Bliss was keenly aware of the thin ice on which she trod. “You leaped to a great number of false conclusions, I think.”

“So did Jynx.” Lord Roxbury felt required to provide his own defense. “Why she should think I’d want
you
when I have her is beyond the limits of understanding!” He realized that this bald statement might cause his hostess a justifiable offense. “Not that you aren’t a lovely woman, because you are, Adorée! And how the deuce did Jynx find out that I’d paid your bills?”

Mention of those items reminded Lady Bliss that she was once more in an extremely hazardous position, and she sighed. The devil was in this predicament of hers; she could hardly betray her brother to the viscount. “I hope,” Shannon added cautiously, “that I haven’t wounded your feelings?” She looked uncomprehending. “In stating my preference for Jynx?”

“Not at all,” Adorée replied cordially. It was not that she thought Miss Lennox cast her in the shade; Miss Lennox definitely did not. Lord Roxbury’s preference clearly indicated that his heart, and not his head, was involved. Adorée was sincerely glad that Shannon had found a young lady whom he might cherish, and sincerely regretful that the young lady had expressed herself extremely loath to be cherished, at least by the viscount.

Despite her abstraction, Shannon persevered. “Did Jynx say anything while she was here that might give some hint as to where she has gone? It is most urgent that I find her, Adorée!”

“Good heavens!” Lady Bliss was no little bit alarmed by this innocent remark. “You can’t think Miss Lennox would come
here?”
She noticed that the viscount looked more puzzled than suspicious. “I think you worry too much. Shannon— of course, you cannot help but worry—but Miss Lennox seemed a thoroughly amiable and good-natured young woman, and not the sort to land herself in the briars!”

Lord Roxbury almost remarked that Miss Lennox had already done just that, then refrained, lest he further confuse the issue. He watched with bewilderment as Lady Bliss paced the floor. He thought it odd that she should be rendered unhappy by the sorry state of his affairs, then decided that his sad tale had roused pity in her tender heart.

His conclusions were not far off the mark. No lady alive had a more tender, or warmer, heart than Adorée Blissington; and no one wished less to cast a stumbling block in the way of romance. Lady Bliss was tempted to confess to Lord Roxbury the whole, to inform him that his missing fiancée had last been glimpsed below-stairs, polishing the brass. Yet she dared not, and her hesitation was not prompted only by her brother’s unnerving remarks about what retribution would fall on her if she allowed the pigeon to escape the coop. Of more importance to Adorée at this moment was Jynx herself. Miss Lennox still believed that Shannon’s affections were centered on Lady Bliss, and was convinced that he must despise her after her outburst, and as a result was very likely not only to lose her temper but to take to her heels once more were her presence betrayed to him. Adorée well knew the dangers of the London streets. Miss Lennox’s present refuge might do her reputation no good, but at least within Blissington House she was relatively safe.