Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 01] - Some Brief Folly (35 page)

Euphemia watched him, her eyes blurring. Small wonder his dark
hair was streaked with grey. Small wonder he sometimes was harsh and
impatient. Her cherished little poem drifted back into her thoughts:
"Riches or beauty will ne'er win me. Gentil and strong my love must
be." And with a great surge of tenderness she knew her love was gentil
and strong, indeed.

Hawkhurst glanced at her furtively, then turned away,
muttering, "Do not look at me so. I am not worthy."

She smiled. "Be still, dear foolish creature, for you have not
the faintest notion of how worthy you are. Nor of how very,
very
much I—"

"What the devil is gong on here?"

Euphemia gave a gasp and grabbed for the gun, but Hawkhurst
was already swinging the weapon to aim steadily at the man who sat
astride the wall, watching them. "Good afternoon, Max," he said
ironically. "How charming of you to come."

Lord Gains wore a heavy greatcoat, a muffler was wrapped about
his throat, and a curly-brimmed, high-crowned beaver resided at a
jaunty angle upon his brown locks. He stared from Hawkhurst's
bloodstained bandages to the girl who knelt, dishevelled but
protective, beside him and, swinging down from the wall, started
towards her. "Good heavens! Dear lady! Are you all right? What—"

"She's perfectly all right," Hawkhurst growled somewhat
inaccurately. "And that's far enough, if you please."

Gains halted, his irked gaze flashing to his enemy. "I see you
found my gun. Do you now intend to blow my head off with it?"

"Tit for tat!"

"What the devil d'you mean?"

"You know damned well what I mean! And I have every right to
shoot a trespasser on my land."

"Why not?" sneered Gains. He gestured towards his face.
"Finish the job."

Euphemia looked from one to the other in stark incredulity.
Here lay Hawk, battered and hurt; she herself was mud from head to
foot, her clothes in rags. And all they could do was wrangle in this
idiotic fashion! "My lord," she said determinedly, "this has gone on
for much too long, and—"

"I can well believe that! Poor soul!" Gains interposed
wickedly. "No gentlewoman would care for
this
situation!" He shrugged out of his greatcoat and, ignoring the levelled
Manton, walked over to wrap it about her. "If you will allow me, I
shall escort you back to Dominer and send help for—"

"Devil you will!" Hawkhurst snapped. "Perhaps you will be so
kind—before you get yourself off my property—to admit that you tried to
put a bullet through my head with this!"

Gains' brows lowered. "I'll own I should have done so four
years since. But, if you must know, I lost the gun, and—"

Hawkhurst gave a hoot of derisive laughter.

"By Jove!" breathed Gains thunderously. "I must be mad to have
let you go on living, you arrogant clod! Well, I shall rectify that as
soon as you're on your feet again. Meanwhile, I am on your accursed
property seeking my dog, whom you persist on luring here to—"

"
Luring
?" Hawkhurst exploded. "Why, that
miserable flea-carrying cur has caused more chaos in my home than a
herd of elephants! I'll send you my reckoning, by God! And do I catch
him on my land again, I shall—"

"Oh, be still!" cried the indignant Euphemia.

"If you harm one hair of Sampson's head…" snarled Gains.

"Who do you take me for? Delilah? I'm not interested in the
hairs on his blasted head! I'll put a ball through his mangy carcass,
is what—"

"And within that same hour, my seconds will call on you!"

"Oh! How I tremble, my lord!"

"Will… you… both… be…
quiet
!" shrieked
Euphemia.

Shocked, they stared at her. "I have
never"
she began furiously, "in all my days, seen two grown men behave so—"

A shout from down the hill interrupted her. "Mia? Is that you?
Mia?"

Euphemia gave a cry of joy. "Colley! Oh, thank heaven!"

"You need not have worried, dear lady," said Hawkhurst,
venomous gaze on Gains. "I could've kept him back!"

All but spluttering his wrath, Gains turned from him. "Miss
Buchanan, have I your leave to call upon you while you are in Bath?"

"No, you have not, damn your impudence," Hawkhurst blazed.
"And how the devil did
you
know she was going to
Bath?"

"Colley!" Euphemia ran eagerly to meet the young exquisite who
jumped the wall with lithe grace, only to pause, stunned by the scene
that met his eyes. "Oh, Colley! I have never been so glad to see a
rational human being in all my life!"

Warmed by his cousin's greatcoat, and with the assistance of
both Gains and Coleridge, Hawkhurst was hoisted into the saddle.
Watching Colley swing up behind him and support his wilting form,
Euphemia was amazed not only by the fact that Gains had been quite
willing to help, but that Hawkhurst apparently found nothing odd about
that assistance. She could only conclude that, being a mere practical
woman, she was incapable of understanding the rules governing the
dangerous game the two men were playing. Hawkhurst's passivity only
went so far, however. The effort of mounting had exhausted him, and he
was bowed over the horse's mane, but, when Lord Gains insisted that
Euphemia ride his grey, he dragged up his head and demanded
caustically, if threadily, that they all stay close together during the
ride back to Dominer. Gains lost no time in delivering a withering
rejoinder. Colley, meeting Euphemia's disbelieving eyes, sighed and
gave a rueful shrug.

The journey was necessarily slow, the fog being all but
impenetrable now, and the daylight fading so that Euphemia feared that
if they did not somehow find Dominer before dark, they would be doomed
to overnight in the open. Bryce, however, possessed an uncanny sense of
direction, and, to her great relief, within half an hour they were met
by anxious grooms who ran out from the yard to greet them.

Lord Gains, who had led his horse all the way, lifted Euphemia
down. He bade her a kind but brief farewell, shrugged into the coat she
insisted upon returning, and rode off, an airy wave of his hand
silencing her fervent thanks.

Bryce now took charge. He guided his sagging cousin into the
arms of the waiting grooms with near feminine tenderness, sent a
stableboy racing to the house to alert the staff and the family, and
commanded one man to bring Dr. Archer at once and another to ride to
the village for the Constable. Hawkhurst muttered something in apparent
protest at this last order, but was ignored as Bryce swung easily from
the saddle and steadied him, saying a firm, "We'll carry you, old
fellow, and—"

"Not likely!" Hawkhurst peered around uncertainly. "Mia, where
are you? Are you… all right?"

She was aching with fatigue, but assured him that she was very
well. "Now you must let Colley help you, Garret. You are in no
condition to walk."

"I'll not be carried… in," he muttered stubbornly.

Coleridge swore under his breath, but drew his cousin's arm
across his shoulders.

Thus supported by Bryce and Manners, Hawkhurst struggled up
the steps and into the side hall. Euphemia was so vexed she could have
hit him, but, running ahead to open the door, she was confronted by the
Admiral, and one look at the old gentleman's stricken face explained
his grandson's attitude.

"Nothing to be concerned about, sir," announced Hawkhurst
cheerfully. "Made a blasted fool of myself. But it's not serious."

Wetherby appeared to have been struck dumb. He followed meekly
as Hawkhurst was aided into the Great Hall. Lady Bryce hurried around
the corner, took one look at her nephew, and fainted dead away.
Ponsonby, a maid, and a lackey ran to restore her. Coleridge, his voice
crisply authoritative, called to Mrs. Henderson asking that medical
supplies be brought to Mr. Garret's room. "Ellie, Miss Buchanan has
suffered a bad fall and will need your best care. One of you people
find Sir Simon at once, if you please. Manners and I shall carry you
up-stairs now, Hawk. A chair-hold would be the easiest style, I fancy,
Manners."

Hawkhurst was near the end of his tether and raised no demur.
He could no longer see anything clearly but managed to keep his head
up, determined he would not alarm his grandfather by being so stupid as
to faint. On the second step, his determination was overcome. He gave a
small sigh, his arms slid from the shoulders of his bearers, and his
head rolled back limply.

The Admiral was aghast and, recovering his voice, sprang
forward crying an anguished, "Oh, God! Is he—?"

"He'll be right and tight, sir," said Colley breathlessly.
"Could you please go on ahead and open the door for us?"

Even through her own anxiety, Euphemia marvelled at the boy. A
shout would have brought the omnipresent Bailey to perform this small
service and innumerable lackeys and footmen hovered about, eager to
assist. The Admiral's face brightened predictably, and he hastened to
do as he was asked. Hawkhurst was borne into the great bedchamber.
Starting instinctively to follow, Euphemia found an arm slipped about
her waist, and the Admiral said kindly, "You may be assured he will be
well cared for, my dear. Our Nell Henderson has dealt with worse than
this. You look ready to drop. Come now, and perhaps when you are
rested, you will tell me what has happened."

She leaned on him gratefully, not until that moment realizing
how utterly exhausted she was. By the time they reached her bedchamber,
she was trembling as with ague. No sooner had the Admiral left,
however, than the door flew open, and a petrified Stephanie ran in to
plead for word of her brother. "They will not let me in the room! What
was it? Has he met Gains at last?" Euphemia shook her head, but her
attempt to reply was foiled as she instead burst into tears and to her
horror seemed quite unable to stop weeping. The faithful Ellie swung
into action. Miss Hawkhurst was begged to go for a glass of cognac.
"Not ratafie, Miss. Your brother's best brandy, Come now, Miss
Euphemia, you cuddle up to Ellie and have a good cry. Then we'll get
you bathed and popped into a nice warm bed. You're half-froze and
half-naked, poor brave soul. Cry, my lamb, cry away."

Euphemia lay drowsing between sleep and waking for a little
while. Not until she moved lazily and sore muscles protested, did
recollection flood back. She sat up, snatching for the bellrope, and
saw her brother hovering at the foot of the bed, watching her anxiously.

"Deuce take me!" he moaned. "Did I wake you, Mia? Ellie will
have my ears!"

She reached out to him, and anticipating her question, he came
to give her hands a squeeze and smile into her frantic eyes. "He's
resting comfortably now. And Archer gives the credit for that entirely
to you, for Hawk would have bled to death had you not found him. Colley
showed me those ruins this morning. Egad, what a gruesome mess! I could
scarcely believe you climbed those steps all the way to the roof. And I
give you fair warning, the old gentleman is in a fair way to placing
you on a pedestal." He looked grave and added, "Seems to make a habit
of it, don't he?"

"Simon, what did Archer say about his leg? He'll not be lamed?"

"He says not, though it took him forever to stitch Hawk back
together. Had the very deuce of a time, poor fellow, although Archer
gave him laudanum. What none of us could understand is how you happened
to find him in that pea soup yesterday afternoon."

"I honestly don't know. I thought I heard him a few times,
but—it was dreadful! A nightmare! Did the Constable come?"

"Yes. What a clunch! Weather permitting he means to come again
this afternoon." Euphemia slanted a glance to the windows, and he went
on, "Yes, it's still quite murky outside and very thick in spots. At
this rate, Aunt Lucasta may have to sit down to Christmas dinner with
only half the Buchanan contingent represented."

"What a shame," said Euphemia, trying to look disappointed.

He chuckled and tugged at a curl which had escaped her cap.
"Not very convincing, sister mine. Are you feeling better this morning?
May I ring for your tray?"

She said that she felt stiff, but much better, and declined
the tray, wanting to talk with him. He drew up a chair and settled down
astride it, facing her over the back. "I do not mean to plague you for
details. Colley told us much of it, and you'll have to wade through the
rest later, I'm afraid. Just one or two questions, to which I'd like
immediate answers, Mia!"

"How very brotherly," she said fondly. "I've some questions of
my own."

His eyes were very empty all at once. "Such as… ?"

Poor dear. Did he suppose she had not noticed how downcast he
had been these past few days? "You first, sir," she said, folding her
hands demurely upon the coverlet.

Despite his uneasy conscience, he was amused as always by her
assumption of meekness. "Very well. Regardless of the cause, you were
alone with the man you love for some time. You are sadly compromised.
Does Hawk return your affection?"

She could not know of the softness that came into her eyes,
but Buchanan saw it, and his last doubts vanished. "He loves me," she
said. "And, oh, Simon, you must have thought him splendid. He was
incredibly brave and made no fuss, although that ghastly trap…'!" She
shuddered.

"Yes, I saw it. We brought it back, in fact. How Hawk managed
to avoid being thrown to his death I cannot comprehend. Which brings me
to my second question. Does he really believe Gains could be so—so
devious and savage?"

"Colley is sure Lord Gains was not responsible," she replied,
evading his eyes. "I fear that Hawk has many enemies." And hating to
deceive him so, she scolded lightly, "You have now exceeded your quota,
sirrah, and must submit to
my
inquisition. I
notice that you have spent a great deal of time with—" She paused,
struck by the way his hands clung so tightly to the chair back and
wondering if his wound still troubled him. "—with Coleridge. Have you
by any chance met Chilton Gains?"