Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 05] - Nanette (16 page)

She made no answer, her sad gaze fixed on the lupin. She
looked very small suddenly, and very helpless, and with a pang of
sympathy, he asked, "Did you lose him, Tuppence?"

The bowed head nodded. "Yes," she whispered huskily. "I—lost
him. And he… he was…" She turned away, her voice breaking, "so very . .
dear."

Touched, he said softly, "My sympathy ma'am. But—were he
alive, do you think he would countenance this? No—" he lifted one hand
in a graceful fencing gesture and smiled, "don't eat me! But
do
think on it. Surely, he could only be horrified to see you here. Alone,
with two strange men, and—"

"Strange, indeed," she frowned. "A Trader who is too lazy to
work. And a rich young man who pretends to be penniless!"

Harry's kindly concern vanished. "Pretends!" he ejaculated.
"D'ye think I am in this sorry case because—"

"I think," she interrupted, "that you are engaged in some
silly dare. One of those stupid bets you men so enjoy and that are such
childish folly."

Infuriated, he spluttered, "Well! If
that
don't beat the Dutch! Can you seriously imagine that for the sake of
some idiotic wager I would allow myself to be shot and beaten and
starved, and half-frozen? Why, you wretched girl, do you suppose I
enjoy
tramping about in the rain with blisters on my heels? I collect you
fancy it all a hum and that I've
not
swallowed a
spider, nor—"

A horrified expression coming over her face, she intervened
breathlessly, "You have not…
what…
?"

"Swallowed a spider. But—"

"Harry Allison! You
never
did!"

She looked so awed that he could not restrain a chuckle. "It's
just cant. I beg pardon; I should not have said it."

"Cant? Oh—let me guess! It means… to be without funds? To
borrow? To be, as my brother was used to say, In Dun Territory?"

"More or less," he nodded.

Clapping her hands, Miss Nanette laughed delightedly. "Oh, how
quaint! Now this I have never before heard!"

Considering that animated little face, Harry decided that she
might look quite pretty in a nice frock, with her hair neatly brushed,
and a ribbon around it… But almost at once the mindless emptiness
filled her eyes and her chin lolled. He took a deep breath and,
recovering his senses, waited until she was restored to normalcy, then
asked gently, "Forgive me if I presume, but you've a slight accent—are
you French?"

"My mama was French."

"I see. And your father is—"

Her head flung upward, her eyes blazing at him. "We will not
speak of my papa, if you please! Instead, I shall now ask
you
the questions. You are the fine aristocrat, why—"

He started. "So you knew who I was, all the time."

"You are Sir Harry Redmond. And your papa left you, among
other things, a great house in Hampshire. You are very far from
penniless." The sudden bitter twist to his mouth stopped her. Her eyes
narrowed. "Unless…" She leaned forward. "Are you truly without funds,
Sir Harry?"

"Unfortunately, ma'am."

She drew a long, deep breath, then snorted, "Disgusting!"

"Wh-What?" Addlebrained or no, she was impossible! His brows
lowering, he grated furiously, "
Now
what are you
saying?"

"That you should be ashamed! Not two years since your father's
death and already you have squandered his entire fortune!
Men
!
Pah!"

"By… God!" raged Harry. "This is too much! I wish
I
was your brother! You should be soundly spanked for making such snap
judgements!
^"
His fury cooled, however, as he
perceived the approach of a newcomer. Miss Nanette did not. She
sneered, tossed her nose into the air and turned from him, bending
nonchalantly to pick another lupin. Retribution, thought Harry with
wicked joy, was at hand.

Mr. Fox was in a humorous mood. His lowered head caught Miss
Nanette well and truly. With a shriek, she dove head first into the
stream. Her reaction was quicksilver. She sprang, dripping, onto the
bank and her hand flashed out to slap across the donkey's face. "
Odious
!
Wretched brute!" she shrilled. "
Donkey
!"

Harry leaned against a weeping willow and laughed until the
tears flowed down his cheeks. Mr. Fox, braying his distress, trotted to
the tent and cowered behind it. Soaked, her hair a wet straggle, her
dress clinging about her, Miss Nanette stood on the bank, trying to
wring the water from her skirts, and all but weeping her fury.

"You… you look a fine… sight…" gasped Harry, holding his ribs
with one hand and wiping his eyes with the other. "A fitting
chastisement!"

"Horrid wretch of a—a gamester!" she retorted.

"Oho! What a temper! You were right; I think you're worse than
Juana! She, at least, would never slap a little donkey's face and make
him cry."

She ceased her efforts and regarded him with total dismay.
"Oh… I did not do this. Did I?"

"Look—at him," he gasped weakly. "Poor little fella's breaking
his heart over there."

She all but flew to put her arms about Mr. Fox. "
Mon
pauvre
! I did not mean it! You were just playing, I know
this. Although—it was very naughty of you. Ah—do not weep!" She kissed
his neck and stroking him tenderly, pleaded, "You will forgive your
wicked Nanette—yes? I am an odious girl and should not be heeded!"

Harry, who had followed to watch this exchange, was fixed with
an anguished gaze and a whimpered, "
Mon Dieu
!" The
poor little thing is inconsolable. I am the greatest beast in nature!
Whatever shall I do to make up with him?"

He was touched to see tears in her eyes and, crossing to the
cart, groaned, "Don't start weeping again, for heaven's sake!" He
rummaged about and found amongst many papers a crumpled reward poster
for Devil Dice. It seemed apropos. "Here…" He returned to hand it to
her surreptitiously. "Give him this."

She stared up at him in astonishment, and he noted that this
morning the flecks in her eyes were green; also that her teeth were
beginning to chatter and the end of her little nose to turn blue.
"Hurry up," he urged. "He has a literary taste. And you are breaking
out in goosebumps."

The little donkey eyed her reproachfully but finally accepted
the paper and, having devoured it, leaned his head against her. "Ah ..
!" One cold hand clapped to her heart and she closed her eyes with a
sigh of relief. "He has forgiven me! Thank goodness!" She hugged Mr.
Fox, and sneezed.

"And you, little one, are taking a cold. Come over by the fire
and take off those wet clothes. We can—"

Instead, however, she made a mad dash for the cart and began
to pull frantically at the oar. Watching her sadly Harry thought that
there could be little doubt but that the poor chit's intellect was
disordered. What a pity.

Meanwhile, Nanette had succeeded in releasing the oar, and
grasping it in both hands, she swung to face him, panting, "Stay back!
Filthy villain! You think to ravish me now we are alone,
hein
?"

"Good God!" gasped Harry, considerably taken aback. "I
wouldn't ravish
you
were we alone on a desert
isle for the rest of our days!"

For some odd reason this did not appear to please her.
"Crudity!" she screamed. "Foulness!" She swung the oar, but it was much
heavier than she'd suspected and so cumbersome as to take her off
balance. Her eyes widened as she was pulled sideways. Her swing had
been lusty; the oar gathered momentum, and before she could relinquish
her grasp it whammed into the tent, drawing her after it. The tent
promptly collapsed and with a muffled shriek she disappeared from view.

It had been quite some time since Harry had so hugely enjoyed
himself. He wiped the tears from his eyes and sobbingly unearthed her.
"Are you… hurt? By George, but you're a fire-eater!" Miss Nanette,
lying with arms wide-tossed amidst the wreckage, refused the hand he
reached down to her. "I have not… the breath…" she gasped. Her gaze
searched his mirthful face and whatever she read there appeared to calm
her fears. "That… beast of… an oar!" She began to giggle and Harry was
undone. His hilarity exploded and he sat beside her while they laughed
until they held their sides with exhaustion.

Mr. Fox, meanwhile, had discovered the pot of gold at the end
of his rainbow and happily devoured all the papers in Diccon's cart.

Miss Nanette's gown was still not quite dry when she
pronounced herself bored with sitting in the tent wrapped in a blanket
and insisted upon it being brought to her so that she might don it
again. Harry had worked hard to restore the tent and would have been
glad to relax for a while. However, although the morning had became
warm, it was cool in the shade of the trees, and fearing the girl would
take a chill, he suggested they go for a short stroll. He quickly
discovered that while her intellect might be disordered, she yet
possessed an extremely high level of curiosity. Their 'short stroll'
was constantly lengthened by her discovery of some new interest to this
side or that, and her dartings off to investigate a flowering shrub or
a hovering butterfly had a tendency to make conversation erratic. In
the midst of a sentence describing the lily collection in the
greenhouse at Moire, he turned to discover himself alone and could
discern no sign of that small, untidy head. "What the devil!" he
muttered in exasperation. "Tuppence . . ?"

The only response was the echo of his own voice. Cursing under
his breath he hurried down the hill and came upon her standing very
still amid some small trees, a warning frown upon her face, and one
slim finger held to her lips. He slowed and peered curiously. A
squirrel was advancing with much caution along a low-hanging branch
toward the acorn she offered. A twig snapped under Harry's boot and the
squirrel was gone in a blur of speed.

"Oh!" Nanette exclaimed with the stamp of one foot. "What a
great, blundering creature you are to be sure!"

"Your servant, ma'am!" He bowed his most graceful, flowing bow
and, as they walked on together, murmured, "Such enthusiasm for flora
and fauna! One might think you'd never been for a country walk."

"Not at my home," she sighed. "Always, my papa insisted I must
ride in the carriage. Walking, he says, is for servants and street
women. And my brother was a formidable horseman so with him I rode
also. You, I suppose, having been blessed with a very kind father,
learned much of the countryside?"

Before Harry knew it, he was deep in a discourse upon Colin
Redmond. Miss Nanette's interest was both intense and flattering, and
not for some time did he realize that he was doing all the talking. As
soon as that fact dawned on him, he turned the conversation deftly
until he at last came to his opportunity and enquired as to how long
she had been acquainted with Lady Nerina.

"For about five years, I suppose." She headed for the brow of
the hill and sat beneath a spreading old oak, gazing out across the
countryside. "How very lovely it all is… so green, and just look at all
the chestnut trees…"

"Yes," he said shortly and, having cast a swift and unseeing
glance at the verdant panorama, persisted, "did you meet her at the
Convent?"

"Mmmmn. What is that great castle in the distance?"

"Bodiam. Were—er—were all of you young ladies leaving the
Convent?"

"Why, yes. We could not bring it with us, you see, sir."

He frowned, but the dimple that peeped forth beside her mouth
disarmed him.

"Little shrew!" he laughed. "You know what I mean."

"
Out
." She yawned behind her hand. "You
wish to know if the Lady Nerina is returning to the Convent. She is
not, for we were only visiting. We took Sister Maria Evangeline out for
her birthday party, and then we journeyed to Park Parapine to see
Nerina's cousin Yolande, who also attended the Convent when she was
young. And on the way back we stayed at Mrs. Burnett's boarding-house,
which is where you laid eyes upon your vision of paradise."

Harry felt his face become hot and said hurriedly, "Yolande
Drummond must have aged very rapidly since last month she was, as I
recall, one and twenty."

Watching him with grave intensity, she asked, "Did your papa
have such very green eyes?"

"No. His eyes were grey, like my brother's."

"Ah, yes… your poor brother. I suppose he can no longer stay
at Oxford now that you have gambled away all—"

"You mistake it," he intervened coldly. "My brother will take
his degree."

"
Bon
! Your papa used to say he will
become a famous scholar someday, and—"

"Good God!" Harry dropped to his knees beside her. "You knew
him?"

"No. But my uncle spoke of him. He is making a book about
interesting things in the law. So he goes often to the Courts. And he
was most surprised by the funny way your papa acted at some trial or
hearing… or something."

His heart beginning to pound rapidly, Harry probed, "Do you
mean the Hearing about the accident my father witnessed?"

"She shrugged. "I do not recall."

The witless look had crept over her face again so that he
could have shaken her, and it took all his control to remain outwardly
calm and wait.

"Very well," she signed at length. "Since you are burning to
ask me about your Goddess, we had as well get it over. She lives in
Berkshire most of the year, at her father's country estate."

His mind riveted to the other matter, Harry scarcely heard
her, and when she paused, asked, "What did you mean—'funny way' . . ?"

"I said no such thing! Nerina is not funny at all. Indeed, one
has only to tell a joke for her to stare blankly and say she does not
understand. Which is because although she is beautiful, she is a
stupid, and—"