The Riddle of the Reluctant Rake (24 page)

“I would indeed, but I don't dare show my face at your house. Confound it! I wish I might call on her. Does she ride in the mornings? Would you be offended if I met her in the park?”

“I would not. But if my papa were to hear of it—awful!”

“Yes, and I'm a fool, for she should not be seen in my company.” Adair frowned and was silent.

Watching the strong face, Rufus murmured, “I think you're another victim. Have a care. My cousin is quite an enchantress.”

“She is very lovely.” Adair reddened. “I gather I am obvious, but rest assured—I know I'm not the first to admire her. Certainly, I must be the least acceptable, even were I not the prime suspect in the disappearance of your sister.”

“Acceptable in what sense? Would you court Cecily under different circumstances?”

“The lady can look as high as she pleases, obviously. At best I had a comfortable competence and my army pay.” He shrugged ruefully. “Less than a scintillating
parti
for your beautiful cousin.”

“Who is also,” said Prior idly, “a considerable heiress.”

Adair shook his head. “And that should properly drive me to the ropes. But I'll be honest with you. When I clear my name I shall pursue your beautiful cousin despite her fortune. What do you say to that?”

Watching him thoughtfully, Prior said, “You evidently enjoy battling against long odds, Colonel.”

12

Looking up from the walnut he'd just cracked, Paige Manderville declared indignantly, “I shall do no such thing! Lord Ignatius Dale rarely hosts a party, but when he does stand the huff, it's a jolly fine show. Get your own invitation, you unprincipled pirate!”

“You are all heart.” Adair threw another log on the fire and crossed to re-fill Manderville's wine-glass. “I should have told York to serve kippers for dinner!”

“What—after I'd condescended to take a draughty hackney coach all the way to the hinterlands on a wet evening? Had you done so savage a thing I'd have added my name to your list of enemies. And you've more than enough of those to be going along with. Still, I'll have to admit you were right, Hasty. Your aspiring undertaker is a splendid cook. That beef was tender as butter and I liked his way with the crab.”

“Then, since you are sufficient of an ingrate to refuse to give up your invitation, will you at least grant me a favour?”

“Not if it's going to result in more assault and battery on my very nice self. I value this body almost as much as the ladies do.”

Adair offered an audible prayer for strength. “I ask only that you get word to Miss Hall that tomorrow evening I shall be at the Dales' masked ball, and beg her to meet me there.”

Manderville shook his head. “Objection number one: You are fighting a duel early the following morning and have no business cavorting about at a party for all hours of the night. Take my advice, my lad. I've been out twice and I know. Get to bed early, else your courtship of the lady may cease before it is properly begun.”

“Good advice, I've no doubt, but—”

“But you're a colonel and don't take advice from a lowly lieutenant. I knew I was wasting my breath, but I tried. So be it. Objection number two: You have no invitation and you may disabuse your mind of whatever slippery schemes you're hatching to appropriate mine. I have my own—er, fish to fry.”

“I've no doubt of that, but with or without an invitation, I shall attend.”

Manderville sighed. “Third objection: How will you find the lady? It'll be a crush, I promise you, and with everyone masked—”

“Ask that she wear a blue flower, and I'll find her.”

“But—”

Adair's jaw set in the way that Manderville had come to respect. “No, do not try to turn me aside, Paige. I go only to meet the lady and will not stay for the unmasking, I promise you. If there should be trouble, steer clear of it. What do you know of my reluctant host, by the way?”

“He is very plump in the pockets—and in his person. His hauteur is legendary—a frightful snob. There's a rumour that his lady holds her nose up so high that she frequently trips over her own feet, though I've never seen her do so. Lord Iggy has a grand mansion in Mayfair, and a large and impressive country seat in Sussex to which no one below the rank of baronet is ever invited.”

Amused by the irreverent abbreviation of the proud peer's name, Adair said, “If the Dales are so high in the instep, how did
you
ever wangle an invitation to their ball?”

Manderville grinned. “The invitation was sent by Lady Dale, who is madly in love with me, of course.”

“What you mean is that the invitation was intended for your father. Rumour has it that he was quite the Don Juan in his day and is doubtless acquainted with the lady.”

“With many ladies, and his day is not done, I promise you. He taught me all I know and I very comfortably continue in his footsteps and add lustre to the Manderville reputation.”

“I think you could delete the final two letters of lustre…” Adair laughed and caught the nut Manderville hurled at him. “No, seriously, Paige, is it truth that Lord Dale is in some fashion powerful in Whitehall?”

“If he is, it must be an extreme deep secret. I'd have judged his head to be one of the emptiest in the southland. Though, now I come to think on it, that description would fit many of the esteemed diplomatists who guide the affairs of our hapless nation! Well, never mind about that. If I'm to call on your admired lady, I must be on my way. Mr. Prior's as top-lofty as old Iggy and will likely deny me, but I'll get your message to her somehow—since you didn't serve me kippers for dinner!”

*   *   *

Risking the ire of his family, early the following morning Adair paid a quick visit to his faithful friend Mrs. Redditch. The housekeeper was delighted to see him, and in spite of her obvious apprehension did not hesitate to offer her help. She managed to retrieve an invitation to the masked ball which Lady Andrea had thrown away. Her ladyship had been heard to say that it had been sent with the malicious awareness that nowadays she and the Viscount would not dare show their faces to the “almighty Dales.”

Adair gave Mrs. Redditch a hug and left by a rear door, troubled by the knowledge that because of his disgrace his mother must be shunned by the society she loved. He harboured no illusions; Lady Andrea was a selfish and foolishly proud woman. But the ties of blood could not be denied, and when he'd pleased her she had shown him a warm affection. Now and then while he was in school, and later, during the Peninsular campaign, she had taken the time to write chatty little letters that had meant a great deal to him. Knowing her, he knew how deeply she must be grieving, and if that grief was for her own ostracism rather than for his ordeal, he could not like to be the cause of it, and prayed that he might very soon dispel her unhappiness.

*   *   *

“Well? Well?” snapped Lady Abigail Prior irritably. “Have you never before rested your eyes upon a lady of Quality?”

Having admitted this unorthodox caller to the front hall of his employer's house, the elderly butler's hand lingered on the door-latch. “I've—er—that is to say, I wonder if there is some mistake, my lady? This is the residence of General Sir Gower Chatteris, and he did not say he was expecting a—er, visitor.”

Lady Abigail shook out her umbrella and as the butler moved out of range, said, “What you mean is that a lady don't call on a gentleman unaccompanied, unexpected and after dark. Well, I
am
a lady, and I
am
unaccompanied
and
unexpected, and whether it be dawn or dusk is all one to me. Take this”—she thrust the dripping umbrella at him—“and give him my card. At once!”

“But—but he is at his dinner, ma'am.”

“Better and better. With luck I'll give him a fine case of indigestion. Go on, go on! Don't just stand there chewing your teeth!”

“Yes, milady. I mean—no, milady. I'll take your card up and tell the master you wish to see him.” He started off, only to reel to a halt as his coat-tails were seized and tugged violently while his name was demanded.

Affronted, he said icily, “It is Polebrook, madam.”

“Well, Polebrook, you will do no such thing,” barked Lady Abigail. “What you will do is tell Sir Gower that I
insist
on seeing him, and if he keeps me waiting above five minutes I shall come up. Screaming!”

“Goodness gracious me,” muttered the unhappy butler, making his rheumaticky way up the sweep of the grand staircase. “Whatever next!”

His employer was less timid. “
Insists
on seeing me?” he roared. “Devil take the woman! Didn't you tell her I was dining?”

“I did, sir. But—but she is most—forceful.”

“Then force her out! I don't know any Lady Prior…” The General paused, scanned the card through his quizzing glass, and grunted. “I take it the woman is that poor child's mama. Well, I've no wish to have her weeping on my shoulder. Send her away, Polebrook. Tell her I've dinner guests. Now why in Hades do you show me that Friday face?”

“The lady is—is quite elderly, sir. And—and she said if we kept her waiting above five minutes—”

Polebrook was interrupted by a piercing shriek.

“Good God!” exclaimed General Chatteris, leaping to his feet.

“—she would come up—screaming,” finished the butler.

The door burst open. In full scream, Lady Abigail stamped into the dining room. “On second thoughts, I'll keep this,” she said, snatching her umbrella from Polebrook's hand.

The General bowed stiffly and said at his most crushing, “I believe I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, madam, but—”

Lady Abigail advanced, her umbrella scattering raindrops as she levelled it across the table at the old soldier. “Don't remember me, do you, Gower Chatteris?” she snapped. “Well, I remember you,
and
that Midsummer's Eve under your father's apple tree! Well you may blush, sir! And I will tell you without equivocation that had I dreamed you would turn into a stiff-rumped, high-in-the-instep, hard-hearted old curmudgeon, you'd have collected a boxed ear instead of the kiss you stole! Now sit down, Sir Gower, while I tell you something about yourself!”

Scarlet and speechless, the General, who had jellied the knees of countless junior officers, collapsed into the chair.

The butler tottered away and left them together. Before he was half-way down the stairs, however, he was giggling uncontrollably. It was, in fact, a full minute before he could command his voice sufficiently to advise the various members of the household staff, who had gathered apprehensively in the hall, that the lady had been frightened by a mouse.

No one believed him, of course, as a result of which General Chatteris gained considerable stature—at least in the eyes of the male members of his staff.

*   *   *

In spite of a cold drizzle, Dale Hall, an enormous Curzon Street mansion, presented a brilliant picture when Adair arrived the following evening. Candle- and lamplight shone from the windows, and on each side of the wide front doors flambeaux blazed, reflecting on the wet flagway and lighting the faces of the curious who had gathered under umbrellas or pieces of oilcloth to watch the stream of arriving coaches. Lackeys held up large umbrellas to protect the guests on the brief journey from their carriages to the awning that had been erected across the pavement. Most of those arriving were already masked, and the onlookers shouted guesses at their identities, this lending an extra air of excitement to the occasion.

Having arrived by hackney coach, which branded him a nobody, Adair gave his invitation to a footman whose hands were already full of similar cards. The man scarcely glanced at him, and he sauntered into the crowded entrance hall. He wore a plain black domino and York had purchased a large mask, trimmed with black ruffles that effectively concealed his brows and cheekbones. He had brushed his dark hair into the tumbled untidiness now popular. It was a departure from the neat military style he usually affected and he thought it made him appear younger, but he felt exposed and vulnerable and was enormously relieved when other guests glanced at him without recognition.

The strains of one of the new waltzes drifted from the ballroom. He edged through the crowd and then paused, tensing, as a tall angular lady rapped his arm with her fan. Laughing, she said shrilly that she hoped she knew “Cam,” mask or no mask. She had taken him for Camille Damon, probably. A compliment, for the young Marquis, though something of a hermit who seldom went into Society, was said to be the handsomest man in the southland. Adair smiled and bowed, but walked on without speaking, paying no heed to her loud complaint that he might at least admit she was right.

The dance floor was crowded with couples safely hidden behind their masks, attempting the daring and frowned-upon waltz. Adair strolled among the onlookers, searching unsuccessfully for a slender lady wearing a blue flower. Several girls who were not dancing eyed him hopefully. He was painfully reminded of the last time he'd rescued a lonely damsel from just such a predicament and of the nightmare results.

A hand clamped onto his shoulder. His heart sprang up behind his teeth as he jerked around. A young man of average height, with light brown hair, a scar down one side of his brow, and eyes that shone a tawny gold behind his mask, gripped his hand and said in a low voice, “Are you quite demented? If you're recognized here, there'll be—”

“The devil to pay,” finished Adair, as softly. “I know, Jack. But I had to come. And I'm glad you're here so I can thank you for your hospitality.”

Captain Jack Vespa, who had been one of Lord Wellington's prized aides, led him aside. “I just saw Manderville. He tells me you've removed your notorious self from my house, which was as well, because a damned crusty major brought a troop to search for you this afternoon.”