Maggie MacKeever (17 page)

“I’m sorry to burst in on you like this!” Tabby said now to the lady whose acquaintance she had so long sought to make. “Your servant told me to come along upstairs.”

Margot reflected that her servants had been a great deal nicer in their behavior in the days when they were being paid. This young woman could hardly be a bailiff, however. She was also not experienced with dogs, judging by the manner in which the beast was currently wrapping her up in his leash.

Margot rose and crossed the room to inspect the situation at closer hand. “Oh, dear!” said Tabby, as she realized how the woman was dressed. “You aren’t receiving company.”

“Apparently I am,” said Margot dryly. She turned her attention to Lambchop. “Sit!”

So startled was Lambchop by this stern command that he instantly obeyed. Tabby almost did likewise. She stared at Mrs. Quarles’s face, whimsical beneath her ridiculously flattering mobcap. “Oh, mercy!” gasped Tabby. “Mama!”

Chapter Eighteen

Mr. Peregrine Smithton strolled through the streets of Brighton. He wore a very disdainful air. Indeed, in his high heels and even higher cravat, his coat and breeches of a daring spotted material, Perry resembled a very superior giraffe.

He had not changed his opinion of Brighton. Not for Perry were such amenities as the city offered. He would allow himself to be nibbled to death by ducks before he hired a bathing machine. Only the fact that he was known to detest the place accounted for his presence there now. His unhappy creditors would not think to look for him there.

At that very moment, as if in defiance of his reflections, someone called Perry’s name. He looked somewhat frantically about, in search of a hiding place. Nothing suitable presented itself. “Perry!” came the voice again, closer now. Perry sighed, raised his quizzing glass, and turned to meet his fate. He saw only Vivien Sanders, beckoning from the high seat of his cabriolet. Perry let out a great sigh of relief and went to greet his friend.

“Dash it!” he said as he climbed up into the cabriolet. “You needn’t scare a fellow half out of his wits. Which reminds me, I’ve a bone to pick with you, Viv! Though dashed if I can think precisely what it is.”

“And I with you.” Mr. Sanders refrained from commenting on his friend’s costume. “Tell me what you know about Mrs. Quarles.”

“Quarles?” Perry turned his head, with difficulty, to stare at his friend. “Who the deuce is that?”

Vivien looked sardonic. “A very unusual high-flyer, whom apparently you knew well enough to give your room at the inn.”

Perry was very confused. Erratic though his memory might be, he was almost positive that he numbered no high-flyers among his acquaintance. After all, he wasn’t in the petticoat line, and gentlemen who weren’t in the petticoat line didn’t usually rub shoulders with females of that sort.

When his friend continued to be silent, Vivien mentioned a certain inn in a bucolic setting and a boxing match that had been held nearby. “
Now,’’
he inquired impatiently, “do you recall?”

Indeed Perry did. “Roosters!” he said triumphantly. “Prizefights! And I think it very poor of you to drag me out into the country, which you know I detest of all things, and then fail to meet me there.”

Vivien supposed it would be even more poor-spirited of him to throttle his uncooperative companion. “I did show up,” he said, “but the hour was late, and you had already gone. And then I found Mrs. Quarles in your room.”

Perry blushed at the implications of this statement. “You did not!” he protested. “You couldn’t have. Stands to reason: I don’t have any traffic with ladybirds.”

Vivien was made even more cross by Perry’s stubbornness. “Must everyone try to pull the wool over my eyes?” he snapped. “You know her, all right, because she said you did, and
I
know she’s no better than she should be!”

Perry had recalled by now to whom he’d lent his room. “I didn’t know Quarles was her name. I thought it was something else altogether, because of old Tolly, you know!” he said, in self-defense. “And I certainly didn’t know she was a lightskirt. Are you certain of it, Viv? She told me she wasn’t any such thing.”

Who was “old Tolly”? Vivien decided he’d rather not know. “She is most definitely a high-flyer. She even informed me that she advertised.”

Perry goggled. Then he recalled that Tabby had said something of the sort. He thought she had advertised for a post. Although he supposed that a ladybird was as necessary an adjunct to some gentlemen as a governess. Who would have thought Tabby so enterprising? “Zounds!” he said.

Vivien urged his horse to a quicker pace. “To tell the truth, I had trouble believing it myself,” he confessed. “She looks like a respectable female. Acts like one, as well. Except for her fondness for blackmail!”

“Blackmail?” echoed Perry. This was going too far. While his imagination might stretch to accept old Tolly’s niece in the guise of a soiled dove, it balked at blackmail. Perhaps some error had been made. “Tell you, what, Viv: Describe the chit!”

“Brown hair,” Vivien said promptly. “Big eyes. A pretty face and figure. A delightful sense of the absurd. An original, not at all in the ordinary way. Provoking, provocative. Thoroughly adorable,” he concluded, with a sigh.

“That’s her,” Perry conceded. “Except for the adorable part, and I wouldn’t know about that. Not that I mean to say she ain’t! Thought she was a pretty-behaved female myself. A good sort of girl.”

“That good sort of girl,” retorted Vivien, “is my sister’s fiancé’s
petite amie
.”

“Your sister’s fiancé’s—” Perry stared suspiciously at his friend. “Are you trying to flummery me?”

“I wish I were,” said Vivien. “My sister’s fiancé apparently goes about seducing females right and left. As for Mrs. Quarels, you were not the only one to be mistaken in her. I, too, seem to have lost the ability to distinguish between a soiled dove and one who is not!”

“Mrs.
Quarles!” Perry cried in triumph. “That explains it! I’ve been cudgeling my brain about that queer business of her name. She must have acquired a husband somewhere! I wonder where he is.” Perry recalled that, when he encountered her at the inn, Tabby had been dressed in black. He thought she said that it was old Tolly who’d popped off, but perhaps he’d been confused. Well, there was no point in further puzzling his head over it. “Viv, what are you going to do?”

“Call him out!” Vivien said promptly. “Cut out his gizzard and use it for daylight! Hell and the devil confound it, Perry, I don’t know. Gus cannot be permitted to marry Elphinstone, of course. What a proper take-in! I would have said there wasn’t an ounce of vice in the chit.”

Vivien was in the devil of a pucker. Erratic as Perry’s memory might be, he was prepared to take his oath that he had never seen his friend in such a state before. That he did so now was a source of wonderment. Could Vivien be foxed? A glass of Madeira would have elevated Perry’s own spirits considerably, but the amenities of the cabriolet did not extend to intoxicants. “Tell you what, Viv!” Perry observed. “Seems to me you’re in a bad way.”

“I am
not
in a bad way!” Vivien retorted irritably. “I don’t know why you should say such a thing. I am merely very angry at the way that I—that is, my sister—has been taken in.”

Perry contemplated his spotted jacket sleeve. He might not have been needle-witted, but he knew chalk from cheese. “What about the divine Sara?” he asked.

Vivien hadn’t thought about the divine Sara for some days and did not care to be reminded now of his neglect. “What about Sara?” he retorted irritably. “Devil take it, Perry, I offered to take her into my keeping, and she boxed my ears!”

“Boxed your ears?” Half strangled by his high cravat, Perry turned sideways on the carriage seat. “You astonish me! I’d have thought that such an offer would’ve suited her to a cow’s thumb. Just who are we talking about? It queers me as to which female you’re on the dangle for!”

Vivien had no doubts in that direction. “Not Sara!” he said. “Mrs. Quarles. That is, it was she who boxed my ears. I’m not on the dangle for anyone—no, nor intend to be again, once this business is finished!”

Perry did not again accuse his friend of telling whiskers, though this was obviously the case. He could guess what had taken place. Vivien was accustomed to being very much admired by the weaker sex. Instead of administering to his vanity, Tabby had instead cut up all his hopes. Perry was astonished that such an unexceptionable miss could send Vivien Sanders tumbling head over heels, when so many great beauties had tried to do precisely that and failed. Clearly, Perry had underestimated her. Or perhaps it was simply that he did not understand the game of hearts.

Vivien was made uncomfortable by his friend’s silence. “I have
not
taken a marked fancy to her!” he said, in case Perry had failed to understand. “I’m hardly such a flat. I don’t care a button for Mrs. Quarles. It’s my sister I’m concerned about.”

Of course Vivien was concerned about his sister. Perry didn’t doubt that for a moment. Nor did he doubt that his friend was fast in the grip of petticoat fever. Perry was very sorry to see Vivien made so unhappy. He could not help but feel responsible. Had Perry not played the Good Samaritan, Vivien would never have met the deceitful Mrs. Quarles.

Vivien interrupted these thoughts. “Damnation, Perry, has the cat got your tongue?’’

Was there a feline in the cabriolet? Perry turned his head for a quick and painful look about. Then he realized that Vivien had merely used a figure of speech. “I was just thinking. About your sister,” Perry retorted with wounded dignity. “Viv, what’re you going to do? Call out Elphinstone? “

“Gus wouldn’t like the scandal,” Vivien retorted grimly. “And so I must try another tack. That is,
we
will! I finally learned where Mrs. Quarles resides—in a house owned by Elphinstone. Apparently he’s had her in his keeping all this time.”

There seemed to be no end to Tabby’s scheming. She’d duped him, too, Perry realized. He wouldn’t have given her his room otherwise. Belatedly, he realized the full impact of Vivien’s words. “We?” he gasped.
“Now?”

“Yes, we!” retorted Vivien. “Now! A matter of such importance can hardly be left dangling. My poor sister’s health is not good at the best of times.”

Perry thought his own health would suffer were he made to witness a confrontation so unpleasant as what must take place. “I want no part of it!” he retorted. “That is, it ain’t for me to shove my oar into your personal business. Or your sister’s! She wouldn’t like it, Viv. Stands to reason she wouldn’t, because she don’t like me above half!”

“No, she doesn’t,” agreed Vivien, “and here’s your chance to change her mind. Do you but persuade Mrs. Quarles not to make a scandal, Gus will be your friend for life.” He scowled.
“Not
that I intend to see her resume her romance with Elphinstone!”

Perry was not persuaded. “Wish I could help you out! I’d like it above all things. Just remembered, I have an urgent appointment! I’m already late!”

Vivien’s scowl deepened. “Can you be in on this business, Perry? I would not have thought you could be persuaded to help a doxy fleece one of your friends.”

“Well, I like that!” Perry retorted indignantly. “Next you’ll accuse
me
of being a cursed rum touch! For your information, Viv, my pockets ain’t that far to let! And even if they was, I wouldn’t! I’m not the one who allows ladybirds to persuade me to do things I shouldn’t, adorable or not!’’

Vivien ignored this latter insinuation. “Good. Then you’ll accompany me,” he said.

There was no escape, unless Perry hurled himself out of the swiftly moving cabriolet, which would have caused considerable damage to both his person and his suit. Resigned, he settled back in his seat. “Where do you know Mrs. Quarles from?” asked Vivien; then added, before Perry could respond, “Never mind! We’re here.”

Perry climbed down from the cabriolet, watched Vivien pay a street urchin to walk his horse. Once more, he tried for freedom. “Here for the waters!” he said earnestly. “Need to rusticate! M’sawbones said I couldn’t stand any excitement. Peace and quiet, you know. Tell you what, Viv, I’ll just wait for you here, by the door.’’

“The devil you will!” Vivien took firm grip on Perry’s sleeve and knocked at the door. “You are going to speak with Mrs. Quarles. You know the wench; perhaps she will listen to you. Don’t you wish to earn Gus’s undying gratitude and mine?”

Perry had no great desire to earn anyone’s gratitude. He wished only for a life unencumbered by individuals stricken down by petticoat fever and tradesmen desirous of receiving immediate payment. Alas, it was not to be. Perry could not abandon his friend, and certainly not while Vivien had such a firm grasp on his expensive, as-yet-unpaid-for sleeve. “People don’t usually listen when I talk,” he said doubtfully. “Maybe no one’s at home. Don’t despair, Viv! We’ll come back another day!”

Even as he spoke, the door opened. A maidservant looked the callers over, head to toe. Perry’s elegant attire caused her to blink, but then Vivien caught her eye. She stepped back and let them enter. “Madam is in the bedroom,” she said. “First room to your left at the top of the stairs.” Grimly, Vivien set out toward the doorway. Forlornly, Perry followed in his wake.

Chapter Nineteen

Margot contemplated her visitor. “You needn’t,” she said sternly, “try to run a rig with me, my girl! I’ve run a fair number of rigs myself in my day, so there’s no use you wasting your time trying to teach your grandmother to suck eggs.”

Tabby’s knees felt weak. She sat down, uninvited, on a black-lacquered chair. “Not grandmother. Mama! How the devil—er, how do you come to be
here?
Uncle Tolly had the impression you’d gone to the Continent.”

“I did go to Continent,” retorted Margot, startled into telling the truth. “Unfortunately my, er, traveling companion abandoned me there.”

Tabby had scant sympathy to spare for her errant parent. “It is no more than you deserve! For treating Papa in that shabby way.”

The chit dared to scold her? “Your papa would have driven a bishop to the bottle!” Margot replied. And then the full import of this odd conversation burst upon her. This impertinent miss must indeed be her abandoned child. As if existence were not already sufficiently complicated! Margot did not feel prepared to deal with yet another complication. Gracefully, she swooned across the bed.