Marigold Chain (30 page)

By the time
Captain Pierce finally left the house, Chloë felt as though she’d
been squeezed through a wringer and when Matthew came in with a
conciliatory glass of wine, she didn’t even have the energy to
berate him for his perfidy. Instead, she sipped the wine and then
leaned back with closed eyes before saying weakly, ‘They’re to
begin unloading tomorrow – and I’m in attendance on the Queen.
Thank God.’

Matt regarded
her darkly. ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

The brown eyes
opened and looked back at him with malicious enjoyment.

‘
Yes.
Tomorrow, dearest Matt, Captain Pierce will be all yours while you
check his surprisingly large cargo. Item: thirty bolts Genoese
velvet, various. Item: four cases Neapolitan tortoiseshell, also
various. Item: twenty bolts Bizertan silk - - ‘

‘
Various,’ finished Matthew dourly. ‘I think I get your
drift. It’ll likely take all day.’

‘
And
that,’ grinned Chloë, ‘is only if you’re lucky.’

It did, in
fact, take all that day and half of the next one but by Thursday
afternoon Matt was able to report that the bill of lading tallied
perfectly with the goods stacked neatly in the Vintry and also to
present Chloë with the various samples she had requested. Despite
his undeniable irritations, Captain Pierce undoubtedly had a good
eye for quality and Chloë, stroking a fragment of sapphire velvet,
was unable to resist sending a length of it to a tailor to be made
up for Mr Deveril.

The next
day she concentrated on finding buyers for all the perishable goods
– oranges, figs and almonds – and was surprised at how easily it
was done. And on Saturday, having spent the morning at the palace,
she returned to find Mr Lewis in possession of a pamphlet catchily
entitled
A True and Perfect Narrative of
the Great and Signal Success of a Part of His
Majesty’s Fleet
which related the events of what
was now popularly known as ‘Holmes’ Bonfire’. Eagerly, the two of
them settled down to peruse it – which was how Mr Deveril found
them when, without a word of warning, he strolled calmly into the
house some half an hour later. Indeed, the first they knew of his
presence was when a cool, pleasant voice said, ‘
Happy the wanderer who, like Ulysses, is come joyfully home
at last.
’

They looked up
then and came swiftly to their feet, the pamphlet falling unheeded
to the floor, as brown eyes and black fastened themselves on his
face.

Alex raised a
mocking brow. ‘Isn’t anyone going to say “Welcome back”? You don’t
have to mean it – but the silence is making me nervous.’

‘
Welcome
back,’ said Chloë dutifully. Her voice split on the words and her
eyes were suspiciously bright. ‘Excuse me. I have to see Mistress
Jackson about a fatted calf.’ And she fled.

Faintly
bewildered, Mr Deveril watched her go and then turned to Matt.

‘
Has
something upset her?’

‘
Aye.
You
have,’
snorted Matthew. ‘You beef-witted idiot, she’d been going daft with
worry over you!’

‘
Has
she?’ If Alex found this either surprising or significant, he hid
it well, merely saying casually, ‘Yes, I suppose she would be. It’s
a habit with her.’

Matt bit back a
hasty reply. ‘You look thin.’

‘
The
whole Navy looks thin. It’s been on short rations since the
beginning of the month.’ Alex sat down and picked up the pamphlet.
‘And then, of course, some of us have been rather busy. Too busy,
for example, to read adventure stories. But perhaps you’ve been
enjoying a little holiday?’ He smiled enquiringly.

‘
What
else?’ snapped Matthew sarcastically. ‘You know I never do a tap if
I’m not watched.’

A hint of
colour stained the lightly tanned skin.

‘
Don’t be
an ass, Matt. You know I didn’t mean it.’

Mr Lewis
grunted, not visibly mollified.

‘
Aye.
Well, if you’re ready to listen, I’ll tell you what’s been
happening here while you were playing with fire in Holland. I
suppose you
were
with
Holmes?’

‘
Yes. You
know I can’t resist a little rape and pillage.’

‘
I know
you can’t resist playing the fool,’ snapped Matt. ‘Did you make
your report to His Highness?’

‘
Yes. And
since the victualing service is so hopelessly adrift that he thinks
he may be forced to abandon the blockade, he naturally found our
efforts less than satisfactory. Which is why he sent me with
Holmes.’

‘
I don’t
follow.’

‘
Subtle
and appropriate punishment,’ explained Alex coolly. ‘I was given
the troop “allotted to the Dutch Captain to preserve him from
violence”. And, as Rupert well knew, my personal preference was for
handing the bastard over.’

Matthew grunted
and produced an epithet seldom heard even in infantry regiments.
Then he said casually, ‘While you were away, your Cousin Simon went
out of town.’

‘
Where?’
Just one word but it assured Matt of Mr Deveril’s undivided
attention.

‘
Kent.
And you needn’t panic. I’ve set a good lad to watch him.’ He
paused. ‘And then last week, Coventry and Arlington were accused of
spying.’

The blue eyes
narrowed, then widened again with growing satisfaction.

‘
Now
that,’ said Alex, ‘is interesting. Tell me more.’

*

A couple of
hours later and having shed his dusty riding clothes, Alex tracked
his wife to the tiny room she used as an office and went in,
closing the door behind him.

Chloë, who had
been staying out of his way because she couldn’t trust herself to
be careful – or, at least, not careful enough – looked up from her
desk, startled and despairing. She wondered why it was that
disadvantages, like troubles, never came singly. Surely it was
enough that relief at his safe return had caused her to behave like
an hysterical hen without having to face him at inescapably close
quarters with her face flushed and shining and her hair hanging
untidily around her shoulders?

He, of course,
appeared entirely unaware of the heat. The loose cambric shirt,
left open at his throat, was snowy-fresh and the raven’s-wing hair
fell lightly curling to his shoulders. He looked cool and alert and
diabolically attractive. And if he had sought her out to tease her,
Chloë thought she would probably start to howl.

‘
Hello,’
he said simply. ‘Are you busy – or can I disturb you for a
moment?’

‘
Oh.’ For
a second, she almost blurted out that he disturbed her all the
time. ‘No. That is – yes. Of course.’

The merest hint
of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, Alex perched on the
edge of her desk. ‘Matt tells me that your ship is back. Is the
cargo all you hoped?’

She nodded.
‘Yes. We expect to make a good profit.’

‘
I’m
glad. Don’t you want to say “I told you so”?’

‘
No. But
it’s very noble of you to give me the opportunity.’

‘
Yes. I
thought so too. And, having re-established my credit, I hoped you
might care to accompany me to the King’s reception
tonight.’

This was
unexpected. Chloë allowed her gaze to wander to his hands. They lay
loosely clasped on his knee, their usual grace overlaid by the
crude marks of five weeks at sea. Inevitably, Mr Deveril had been
doing more than give orders.

‘
Yes,’
she said, with a calm she didn’t feel. ‘If you wish.’

Abruptly, he
rose and turned away and when he spoke it was almost in answer to
her thought. ‘It was necessary, Chloë. But if you were worried –
then I’m sorry.’

‘
Worried?’ She managed a brief laugh. ‘My goodness! As if I
didn’t know you can take care of yourself.’

‘
I’m
pleased to hear it.’ He looked back at her, obliquely considering.
There was a short silence while he leaned against the door and
folded his arms. ‘I seem to recall that you have a rather splendid
gown of cream shot-silk. I’d like you to wear it
tonight.’

And that,
thought Chloë, was so cunning that it nearly worked.

‘
Why?’

‘
To
please me?’

‘
It’s a
lie,’ she said flatly. ‘You just want me to stop wearing
black.’

He sighed. ‘No.
Wear black because it suits you, by all means. But don’t wear it
for Danny.’

She toyed
restlessly with a sheaf of papers.

‘
Are you
asking me to stop mourning him?’

‘
No. I’m
asking that you stop cheapening a very genuine sentiment with the
kind of conventional observance he would have laughed
at.’

Chloë
discovered that her hands were shaking and gripped them
together.

‘
You’re
probably right,’ she said slowly. ‘Very well. But will you tell me
something in return?’

‘
If I
can.’ His expression was guarded.

She drew a long
breath. ‘Was Danny murdered?’

Some of the
colour drained from his skin.

‘
Oh God,’
he said wearily. ‘How did you find out?’

‘
I
guessed. It – it doesn’t matter. And you are looking for the man
who did it?’

‘
No. That
man is dead. I’m looking for the man who paid him.’

‘
I see.’
She looked into his face. ‘It’s much more than Danny, isn’t it?
It’s this thing you’re doing for His Highness.’ She paused,
thinking. ‘And this man you want … does he know that you’re looking
for him?’

A grim smile
touched Mr Deveril’s mouth. ‘No. Not yet.’

Chloë’s eyes
widened suddenly. ‘You know who he is.’

‘
Yes.’ He
sat down again on the side of the desk. ‘I know who he is but
that’s not enough. I need proof; cast-iron, incorruptible proof.
Or, because he is who he is, no one is going to believe me. Not
even Giles.’

And because she
was beginning to know him now and knew how to listen, she heard the
almost imperceptible bitterness in the apparently level tone. She
said, ‘Matt believes you. And so would I.’

He smiled again
but differently and stood up to go.

‘
Would
you? I can’t think why you should.’ He laid his hand on the
door-latch and then looked back. ‘And will you also accept my word
on the subject of mourning and wear the cream silk
tonight?’

‘
Yes,’
said Chloë. And to herself, ‘And give you my heart on a plate. You
need only ask.’

*

Whitehall was
more than usually crowded and, having been delivered there by Julia
on her way to visit friends, Chloë and Alex found themselves
jostled in the press of people moving slowly inside.

‘
Oh
dear,’ sighed Mr Deveril mildly. ‘It’s jam-making night and we’re
going to be crushed, boiled and reduced to pulp.
Hell!
’ This as he was hailed loudly
from the steps by the Earl of Chesterfield and then, rather closer
at hand by Lauderdale, the Scottish Secretary.

‘
Well,
Deveril. They’re saying we’ve taken a dozen ships of hemp and
flax,’ said Lauderdale with the soft lilt that masked a uniquely
unscrupulous mind. ‘Is that so?’

‘
A slight
exaggeration,’ replied Alex, bored but courteous. And then wheeled
suddenly, aware that a hand was sliding into his pocket.

Mr Deveril was
quick but the hand and whoever it belonged to was quicker. Even as
he moved to grasp it, it slid supple as an eel through his
clutching fingers and, as he turned after it, it’s owner – a child
of no more than ten – darted swiftly through the crowd and was
gone.

‘
Well?’
demanded his lordship tetchily. ‘I asked ye how slight an
exaggeration?’

Alex looked
absently back at him, the light eyes frowning slightly.

‘
We took
only one,’ he replied. And, ignoring Lauderdale’s tut of
disapproval, looked back across the courtyard in the direction the
child had taken.

For an instant,
he debated forcing his way back through the crush but then
dismissed the notion. It would take too long – and for what? To
catch a child who’d tried to pick a pocket and gone away
empty-handed? Lunacy. Pushing the incident to the back of his mind,
he tucked Chloë’s hand through his arm and said, ‘Take a deep
breath, Marigold. We’re going in.’

Except in its
large attendance, the reception that night was the same as any
other; the wide, elegant chamber and the faces of the glittering
throng all belonged to other evenings, other seasons. Only for
Chloë, her hand on her husband’s arm, was the music sweeter, the
lights brighter, the colours sharper. And then he left her to
report to the King and the occasion lost its charm.

She spoke
to Lady Chesterfield, then to a number of other acquaintances and
managed to avoid Lady Sarah Marsden, ravishing as usual in blue;
but quite how she came to end up
tête-á
-
tête
with Lord George Gresham she had no idea. It wasn’t the first
time he had attempted to single her out but previously she had
managed to defeat him by summoning some innocent third party to her
side. Tonight, crowded as the room was, she could see no one to
fulfil this function and realised that, for courtesy’s sake, she
would have to bear patiently with his lisping lordship’s particular
brand of double-entendre until he either tired of the game or some
method of escape offered itself.