Joan Smith (27 page)

“Sorry to disappoint you. How did Miss Talbot get into the passage and out again?”

“The butler, who I had to take into my confidence, let them in through the saloon entrance. They hastened along to be ready on cue.”

“Who is involved in this ‘they’ you speak of?”

“Miss Talbot and Napier, my valet. He stood by at the ready with a rope to haul her up after her performance and return the trapdoor to its place, in case any curious young females should decide to investigate. Apparently all the young females were too disinterested to bother looking. They had the devil of a time getting out. Some damned fool nailed the door shut in Lady Sinclair’s room, but they found their way out by the saloon exit. Our friendly butler went to their aid.”

“My Miss Talbot is got down safe and sane,” Peter assured me. “She is much a good actress,
hein?”

“Very good. You might have told me this, Welland. I told you everything—showed you the secret passages, got the papers from the scriptorium for you, and you kept everything a secret from me.”

“I had every intention of telling you,” he lied amiably. “I most particularly invited you for a curricle drive for the very purpose, but you preferred to hear a reading of
Tenebrous Shadows,
so there was no opportunity to include you in our more interesting doings.”

“What did you steal from the carton, incidentally? It was several pounds lighter than when you took it away.”

“Oh, really? I must have misplaced some of the stuff. I’ll have a look for it.”

The speech was reasonable, the tone highly suspicious. “You could have given me a hint what you were up to. I would have gone for the drive if you had.”

“True, but I have never made a habit of
begging
ladies to drive out with me. Before the words
St. Regis
jump to your lips, I would like to have a private talk with you.”

Peter poured himself another dollop of sherry, not hearing, or not understanding, or not caring that he was being hinted away. “

“Why you don’t go home, now, Welland?” Peter asked, swishing his drink around in his glass, while casting lecherous glances at me.

“Why don’t you?” Welland countered.

“I am home, me.”

“Miss Talbot is still at the gatehouse, waiting for a drive home.”

Pierre considered this, but “a bird in the fingers” was always preferable to him. I was right within hand’s grasp, whereas Miss Talbot was a park away. “You take her home,” he suggested to his cousin.

“Oh, very well,” Sinclair said, arising with an impatient jerk. “One of us had better. We’ll have that chat tomorrow, Valerie.”

“We
will be having our chats now, this night,” Pierre said, inching closer, his hands coming out, all fingers, while his sherry glass teetered on the edge of a table, hastily set aside.

“In a pig’s eye we will. Hold him till I get away, Welland.”

“Why don’t you be good, and take Miss Talbot home?” Welland asked, in a wheedling way.

“That Miss Talbot, she is not amenable for kissing,” Pierre complained. “Many trinkets I have gived her. Bonbons, a ring of garnets, many flowers. Maybe she is liking better the money ...”

“You never want to underestimate the power of money,” Welland urged, while I waited with bated breath to see if the bird in the bush was becoming more desirable.

Pierre dug into his pockets. “I have got only these little pieces of money,” he said, fingering over a few shillings and pence. “I think it is not enough. Folding paper monies are better, no?”

Welland reached into his pocket, till he intercepted my shocked, disapproving face. “I’m fresh out of folding money,” he said to Pierre.

“About St. Regis’s plans for my future, Valerie,” he went on, turning to me, “I have written him. I expect to see him any day, probably tomorrow, and I’ll speak to him then.”

“I am not interested in his opinion, or in a man who lets his decisions be made for him by another. Try your luck with Miss Talbot,” I suggested.

“Peter, go to bed, please,” Welland said, obviously wanting privacy with me.”

“I am fresh out of being tired,” Pierre replied happily.

“I’m not. I am for bed,” I said, and swept from the room.

“Maybe I shall be trying my lucks with Miss Talbot,” Pierre said as I left, jingling his few shillings in his hand.

While I was at breakfast with my aunt the next morning, Dr. Hill came up to Troy Fenners, hat in hand, to seek an interview with Lady Sinclair. When he was announced, Loo turned an imploring eye toward me.

“It would be easier for Waiter if I see him alone, dear.
You
understand.”

I was not in the least eager to be present at the embarrassing meeting. I went to the saloon, thinking to see Welland waiting there. Surely he had not permitted Hill off the leash to come unaccompanied? He could easily have bolted, for all anyone knew. This was exactly what he had allowed, however. Welland was nowhere around. I toyed with the idea of going to the gatehouse, but decided it was time to sit on my thumbs and let him come courting me.

When Pierre ambled into the saloon some half hour later, he was showing the signs of a late night. “I require monies,” he said briefly, without making a single lunge at my unprotected body. “I shall be going at the bank alone. I now have much monies there after realizing funds. I require my monies now, today.”

I felt fairly sure the requisition had to do with Miss Talbot, but did not wish to hear it confirmed. “Welland is not going with you?”

“No, I shall going alone from present onward. Welland is soon now leaving us, you comprehend.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I must stand up on my own feets from the present onward. I am to have conversations with Lord St. Regis, who is not most happy I did not first be going to see him. He is to see over my monies and my houses I shall be purchasing.”

This sounded as if it was St. Regis’s feet he meant to stand on, but no matter. At least he would not be standing on mine. From all accounts there was nothing St. Regis preferred to interfering in the family’s dealings. He would have Pierre shackled to some fortune equal in size to his own in jig time”. After another half hour’s wait, Sinclair had
still
not come up to see me, but Pierre had let it slip out that the reason he sat in the saloon was to prevent Hill’s untimely departure.

A reason for Sinclair’s absence was soon discovered. Loo received a note informing her St. Regis had arrived. He was coming to see her and Dr. Hill, and was kind enough to add a postscript saying he wished to make my acquaintance.

Loo came to tell me of the impending visit. “You had better go and comb your hair, Valerie. And for goodness’ sake don’t say anything forward or bold. I tremble to think what he will do, but I won’t have Dr. Hill put into gaol, whatever he may say.”

“It is what he deserves.”

“The young are cruel. You cannot know what dire straits he was in, with those horrid Rogers people squeezing him for money. I should have married him, but I did not, and shan’t do it now either, for he did not behave honorably in this matter, stealing my money and lying to me. He has promised to pay back all he can. He is to give me some Titian painting, and all the money he stole that he has not spent, but unfortunately he spent a good deal of it on books and things, as well as Miss Rogers’s fees at the sanatorium. Some remains, and he is to try to pay back what is owing over the next years. He is going to sell up his cottage and return to Harley Street, or at least to London. He will not want to remain here where the story of his disgrace is bound to leak out, with that wretched St. Regis coming to make a great scandal. Do
you think it possible St. Regis can press charges, Valerie?”

“I have no idea. If the money is returned, I don’t see how he can, but I think you are letting Hill off
much
too lightly.”

“I know you do. Walter has been a good friend over the years, though, to Edward and to me. How should it be possible to have him put in prison, maybe even
hung?
Having to leave the neighborhood he loves and go back to London will be punishment enough for him.”

“I doubt you will have a word to say in the matter. St. Regis will take over the whole once he arrives.”

“I must go and make a fresh toilet before he comes. I shall wear a gown. A regular morning gown, I mean, instead of this contraption Miss Brendan made up for me. These things are nice and cool for the summer, but somehow I think St. Regis will not like it.”

“St. Regis may go to the devil. You can jump to his tune if you like. I plan to go riding.”

“Oh, Valerie, I wish you will not!”

I did not do it, but neither did I sit waiting like a tame bunny for the great St. Regis to come and size me up, and see if I would make a suitable mate for his errand boy. He would only ask horrid questions about dowries and things that were none of his business. I went for a walk through the park.

When I returned more than an hour later, St. Regis was still closeted with my aunt. I was hoping I had stayed away long enough that he would have to wait for me. There were sounds of scraping chairs and general movement in the scriptorium, indicating the more important meeting was over. I darted down the hall, to be sitting in state in the saloon, telling the servants where I was to be found, in case his lordship wished to see me now. Uppermost in my mind was the question of Welland’s whereabouts in all this morning. I assumed he was with St. Regis, which turned out to be the case.

St. Regis was every bit as pompous, overbearing, and hateful as I had so often pictured him. He was of medium height and build, but held his shoulders back in such a self-consequential way, while looking down his nose at me through a pair of pince-nez glasses. “This would be Miss Ford,” he said, making a slight gesture toward bowing.

“How do you do, my lord,” I said, reaching out to grip his hand. He looked quite startled at this unladylike freedom on my part.

“Fine,” he said, blinking his surprise to Welland, who stood biting back a grin behind him. He was without his green glasses on this occasion. “Just fine, thank you.” Then he released my fingers and turned to his cousin. “I approve,” he said. “I heartily approve of Miss Ford. She will suit you admirably.”

“Thank you. You can leave us now, Sinc. I just wanted Miss Ford to meet you, since she has heard so much about you. Most of it untrue.”

I turned a warning stare on Welland, shocked that he would treat his patron so cavalierly. “Very well, then,” St. Regis said at once. “I shall be at the gatehouse waiting for you. Mary will want to talk to you. Very happy to have made your acquaintance, ma’am,” he added to me before leaving.

“You see, I told you it would be all right,” Welland said, stepping forward with an easy smile.

“Why on earth did he bring
Mary?”
I asked, disliking the proximity of the fiancée at such a critical moment. I feared St. Regis hoped to rekindle a romance in that corner.

“He could not like to be separated from her on the honeymoon.”

“You mean St. Regis married her
himself?”

“Not exactly,” he said, hunching his shoulders in a way there was no trusting. His forehead too was all wrinkled up, denoting some double dealing. “The fact is
...
” He stopped, tilted his head to the side, and laughed at me. I swallowed a couple of times, while I did some rapid thinking. “Did you not tumble to it? I made sure when you mentioned my
overbearing
way, so unsuited to a secretary
...
”

“That was Welland Sinclair in those pince-nez glasses!”

“Yes, and you know who that makes
me.
The odious St. Regis at your service, ma’am,” he said, sweeping me a bow.

“I should have known! If there is
one thing
in this world, Welland 
...
”

“The name is Hadrian. Like the wall, you know.”

“
...
one thing that could make me hate you more than I always have, it is knowing you are that busy-body, interfering, penny-pinching little
...
”

“Six feet tall. I only seem little
to you.”

“
...
little
toad
of a St. Regis.”

“I still want to marry you, Valkyrie.”

Oh, joy! What a relief it was! As he was so busy to find fortunes for his kin, I naturally feared he would be after one for himself. I wanted to revile him more for the looks of it, to pay him back for his deceit, but I emitted a shaky laugh all unawares.

“On the tenth of July,” he went on. “It is my parents’ anniversary. I decided long ago to hold my own wedding on the same day, if I could coerce my bride into it. I am a romantic, when I am not being an odious little toad. Why don’t I kiss you, and see if I turn into Prince Charming?” he suggested warily.

Sure enough, he did. He did not have far to go in my opinion. The more alarming transformation occurred in me. I felt strangely uncertain, shy of him,
feminine,
possessed of some weakness that was not at all characteristic of me. I wanted to be small, dainty, to come up to his chin, instead of his eyebrows. And had I not taken the precaution of wearing my lowest heels, I would have gone a little above even the eyebrows.

“Mmmm, I certainly
feel
like a prince,” he said when he released me. “Shall we try for king?”

“Let me get used to a prince first. You were only a secretary when you left last night, you know. All these promotions take some getting used to.”

“There’s no better way to get used to anyone,” he said, pulling me back into his arms, where his kinship to Pierre St. Clair was most forcibly demonstrated, and most thoroughly enjoyed.

I expected to see Pierre land in on us, as he usually did at the worst possible times. On this occasion, it was Aunt Loo who interrupted the seduction. “He has left, Lord St. Regis,” she said, stiff with disapproval, but I think it was for the man’s name, not his present activity.