Marigold Chain (18 page)

‘
Or
splattered against one of the archways?’ suggested
Chloë.

‘
There is
always that possibility.’

She drew a long
breath. ‘Let’s hope not. Meanwhile, perhaps you’d care to
wait?’

He bowed
slightly. ‘If it would be no trouble, I’d be glad to do so. But it
seems you are busy.’ He indicated the mound of linen.

‘
Yes –
and very tedious it is when you’ve no one to talk to.’ She smiled
up at him. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d sit down – I feel at a
terrible disadvantage.’

The wide mouth
curled attractively.

‘
It
doesn’t show – but thank you.’ And swinging the silk-lined cloak
from his shoulders with a panache worthy of imitation, he tossed it
over a chair-back and sat down, placing a flat leather box on his
knee. ‘My sister Sophy says that when I’m on my feet, it’s like
talking to a bean-pole.’

Chloë glanced
up from her mending.

‘
And does
she often talk to bean-poles?’ Then coloured right down to her
collar, unable to understand what it was in him that had caused her
wits to wander twice in ten minutes. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t usually
make inane remarks – but it’s been a peculiar morning.’

The Duke did
not seem to mind. He said, ‘It’s some time since I saw your
husband. Have you been married long?’

‘
Three
months.’ Her colour receded a little and she hoped it was not the
start of a second inquisition. ‘Do – do you know Mr Deveril
well?’

The dark eyes
rested on her enigmatically.

‘
Moderately so. A difficult young man of more than usual
ability. And a good soldier.’

Chloë looked up
again, needle poised. ‘You’ve fought with him? Under Prince Rupert,
perhaps?’

His teeth
gleamed in a faintly wolfish grin. ‘What do you know about
Rupert?’

‘
Not a
great deal. Only that Matt says he’s the best cavalry leader in the
world and that he must be an exceptional person if Mr Deveril
respects him. I wish - - ‘

‘
Yes?’

She bent her
head and continued to sew, aware of a need to be careful.

‘
I wish I
could meet him,’ she finished lightly.

There was a
brief silence, then his Grace said, ‘You might be disappointed. Or
is it to control Alexander’s excesses that you want him?’

The needle
stopped again. Plainly, she hadn’t been careful enough.

‘
No! No –
it’s just that we think, Matt and I, that he needs an occupation
and I thought that His Highness might perhaps be able to help.’ She
stitched on, thrusting away a ridiculous impulse to confide in this
sharp-witted stranger.

The Duke opened
his box then closed it again, laying a sheaf of papers on the lid.
He produced a narrow piece of charcoal and turned it in his
fingers.

‘
Rupert
deals in warfare. Do you think Alex would be willing to leave you
after so short a time?’

‘
Yes,’
said Chloë baldly without looking up.

The charcoal
made contact with the paper. ‘And you wouldn’t mind?’

‘
No.’ She
thought and then added, ‘I don’t like waste.’

‘
Neither
do I,’ the Duke replied, his eyes on his work. ‘But there are many
different kinds – and it’s sometimes difficult to distinguish the
temporary from the permanent.’

Chloë stared at
him, frowning, and caught a darkly studious gaze before it dropped
back to the paper.

‘
You
mean,’ she said, struggling to understand, ‘that Mr Deveril is
wasting more than his talents?’

She received a
small, abstracted nod.

‘
What,
for example?’

‘
That’s a
question you had best ask yourself.’ The charcoal made a number of
bold, sweeping movements.

‘
I
am
asking it,’ returned Chloë, ‘but
you are the one who seems to have the answers.’ She pushed her
needle jerkily through the material. ‘I just wish you’d share them
with me.’

‘
Very
well.’ The Duke stopped what he was doing and fixed her with a
disconcertingly piercing stare. ‘It seems to me that if his
three-month bride is still thinking of him as Mr Deveril, he’s also
wasting his opportunities.
D’accord?
’

Chloë’s
hand slipped and the needle jabbed her finger. She sucked it, shook
her head and said, ‘
Au contraire. Mais
c’est une bien id
é
e
.’

His Grace
raised one ironic brow and shrugged faintly before returning to his
paper. There was a long silence broken only by the sound of
charcoal on paper, then he said bluntly, ‘There’s no need to look
so uneasy. I’m not going to pry. And I’ll even manage to give Alex
a little something to occupy his mind – as it happens, that’s why
I’m here. But he won’t be able to discuss it with you so you’ll
need to accept that fact.’

The colour
seeped back into Chloë’s face and she gazed at him eagerly.

‘
You have
work for him?’

‘
Yes …
well, the truth of the matter,’ said the Duke, looking suddenly
discomfited, ‘is that I’m not - - ‘ And stopped as sounds of
disturbance reached them from the hall; crisp footfalls approaching
the door and the clear, unmistakable tones of Mr Deveril. His Grace
gave a rueful grin. ‘Too late,’ he sighed and, laying aside his box
and papers, rose from his seat.

The door opened
and, still speaking, Alex walked in followed by Giles.

‘ …
and
taking it all in all, he was damned lucky not to be sucked up into
the pumping mechanism and sent to Trinity House in a pipe! The day
Danny - - ‘ He came to an abrupt halt and stood staring at Chloë’s
visitor, light eyes wide with shock.

‘
Sir!’ He
saluted smartly. ‘I had no idea - - ‘

‘
Obviously,’ said Duke easily and achieved instant silence.
‘Don’t disturb yourself. I could have sent word – but I preferred
not to.’

An unpleasant,
sinking sensation gripped the pit of Chloë’s stomach and she eyed
her guest with foreboding as he greeted Mr Beckwith with a slow,
infectious smile. Giles bowed deeply and said, ‘As always, it is a
pleasure to see Your Highness.’

That did
it. Chloë stood up, drawing three pairs of eyes. She looked
directly at her new acquaintance. ‘You said,’ she observed
accusingly, ‘that you were the Duke of Cumberland. You
did
say that?’

‘
I did –
and I am,’ he replied placatingly. ‘It’s just not a title I find
much use for except as a jest to old friends which was all I
intended today. Unfortunately, it misfired somewhat – due
completely to Alex’s ill-timed absence - but having announced
myself as Cumberland, it seemed a bit difficult to tell you that
I’m also Rupert Palatine.’

Chloë was
not noticeably comforted. ‘
My sister,
Sophy
,’ she thought dismally. Sophia, Electress of
Hanover, of course. And what had she said? Something stupid about
bean-poles.

‘
But I
talked about you … and, what’s more, you encouraged me to do
it!’

Rupert grinned.
‘Yes. I enjoyed that. You were very complimentary.’

Chloë glanced
at her husband and saw that laughter wasn’t very far away. It was
too much. She restored her attention to the King’s first cousin and
lost her head.

‘
Yes,’
she said indignantly, ‘I was. But I’ll know better next time.’ And
watched in disgust as all three gentlemen dissolved into
mirth.

Giles was the
first to recover and, moving towards her with the warmest
expression she had seen in his face for a long time, said evenly,
‘I think it would help if you began again. Sir, I have the pleasure
to present Mistress Chloë Deveril. Chloë – allow me to introduce
His Royal Highness, Prince Rupert of the Rhine and Bohemia, Count
Palatine, Duke of Cumberland, Earl of Holderness and joint
commander of His Majesty’s Navy.’

Chloë curtsied.
‘It is an honour to meet you, sir,’ she said. And resolutely bit
back one final piece of levity.

Prince Rupert,
nobody’s fool, bowed and supplied it for her.

‘
And we
are delighted, Mistress Deveril.
All
of us. I hope I’m forgiven,’ he continued
pleasantly, ‘but in case there is any lingering doubt, perhaps
you’ll accept this as a small peace-offering.’

Chloë took the
paper from his outstretched hand and stared down at it in silence,
the smile dying on her lips. The stillness dragged on until, torn
by curiosity, Giles and Alex crossed to see that it was she held;
and then they too looked without speaking.

It was a
sketch, a mere line-drawing, but exquisitely and intuitively
executed. The face was Chloë’s and yet not. Hers was the long,
smooth hair, backswept on one side of her face and falling straight
as a curtain on the other and hers the delicate profile etched
clear as a cameo against it. The high tapering brow, the short
aquiline nose and the pure line of cheek and jaw were hers; but to
the portrait as a whole, Rupert had added qualities from within
that perhaps only Giles recognised.

The face,
gracefully tilted on the slender curve of the throat, looked with
downcast eye at something which the beholder could not see. Long,
curling lashes shadowed the cheek with an illusion of serene purity
and though the nose and chin retained their strength and character,
the mouth had acquired a warmth and sweetness that made Giles look
away. It was only Mr Deveril who understood, as Rupert had perhaps
intended, that in style and composition, it was the face of a
virgin saint.

Alex looked
slowly across at the man whose brain and military skill he admired
above all others and silver-blue eyes met black in mutual
speculation. Then, almost imperceptibly the Prince shrugged,
causing a tremor of unwilling amusement to tug at Alex’s mouth.

It was left to
Chloë to break the silence.

‘
It’s
beautiful,’ she said shakily. ‘But it’s not me.’

‘
Yes it
is,’ said Giles shortly, then walked away to the window, a faint
flush staining his cheeks.

Rupert cast a
swift, appraising glance at his back and then smiled at Chloë. ‘Not
as you see yourself, perhaps. But you must allow the artist a
little licence.’

She knew that
her nose was pink but for once didn’t really care and pulling out a
handkerchief, she blew it defiantly. ‘Yes. Well. Would the artist
be good enough to sign it?’

The black brows
soared and he laughed.

‘
I’d be
delighted! Our family doesn’t usually get to sign its
masterpieces,’ he said, as he scrawled his name at the foot of the
picture. ‘In the old days, my sister Louise used to have Honthurst
sign her work because his name fetched a better price.’

Chloë received
the paper carefully and smiled at him.

‘
Thank
you. It – it’s the greatest compliment anyone ever paid me and I
shall treasure it always.’

The Prince
flashed a sardonically enquiring look at the silent Mr Deveril and,
seeing it, she said quickly, ‘I’ll leave you to complete your
business – but perhaps Your Highness would join us for dinner?’
And, waiting only for His Highness to signify his acceptance, she
fled.

Giles turned
back from the window and looked at his former chief.

‘
Shall I
go too?’

‘
No.’ The
easiness which had characterised Rupert for the last hour fell away
like a sheared fleece, leaving him crisp and commanding.

‘
Sit
down, gentlemen. I have a task which I hope won’t prove beyond you.
Indeed, I selected you in view of your past experience and your
ability to keep your mouths shut. The matter we’re about to discuss
is both grave and secret – which is why I have come here in person
and without, I hope, anyone being aware of it. It’s vital, both for
the success of your mission and for your personal safety, that no
one suspects what you are doing. I don’t offer you payment – only a
challenge and an element of risk. Do I have your
support?’

There was no
doubt in the faces of either of his listeners.

‘
Certainly,’ said Giles.

‘
As
always,’ said Alex, ‘you need not have asked. What do you want us
to do?’

The Prince
reached out, dropped the pile of papers on the table between them
and laid his outspread fingers on them.

‘
Unless
I’m greatly mistaken, the Navy is at the mercy of a dangerous and
high-skilled enemy agent. I want you to catch him.’

Mr Deveril’s
eyes opened guilelessly wide. ‘On the premise that it takes one to
know one? Yes. Well, we’ll try not to disappoint you.’ And to Mr
Beckwith, ‘You’ll have to buy a new knife to hide beneath your
cloak, Giles. You can’t enter the best spying circles with outmoded
accoutrements.’

Rupert was not
amused.

‘
Stop
trying to be funny and listen. You know – or you should do – how
serious the political situation has become and how crucial is it
that we seal the course of the war this summer. We are no longer at
war merely with Holland but also with the French. The French fleet
is small but its locations along the coast make it a force to be
reckoned with. Their main base is Toulon but there are detachments
at Brest and La Rochelle. If Holland and France mounted a
simultaneous attack, England could find herself facing the Dutch to
the north-east with the French nipping her backside from the south.
Holland also has an alliance with Denmark and I have just heard
that she made peace with Munster on the eighth. In addition, I’m
told that – despite rumours to the contrary – Sweden has concluded
an agreement with France. You have only to add that, as usual,
we’re critically short of money and the Navy is in debt to the tune
of more than a million pounds and you’ll perhaps appreciate why the
last thing we can afford at this stage is a network of spies and
saboteurs.’