Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 06] - The Noblest Frailty (13 page)

"He loves you, you know."

Devenish frowned at the quiet drawl. Not looking up, he
growled, "I came out here to get away from you."

"I know." Craig settled his shoulders against a convenient
birch tree and folding his arms, said, "Still I must talk with you."

Devenish sneered, "I wonder you dare. Are you forgetting that
I have inherited your father's murderous inclinations?"

'That is not possible."

"Devil it ain't! You saw the likeness the moment we met. At
the time I thought it was impudence when you stared so. But it was
shock, was it not?" He had brought a frown to those controlled features
and, bitterly hurt, wanting only to hurt in turn, laughed. "Was you
afraid, cousin? Did you fear I might seek vengeance for my youthful,
slaughtered father, my heartbroken mother?"

"No."

"I'd be within my rights, by God, but I would! Yet—you heard
him.
You
have the taint of murder in your veins.
But
I
am the one from whom people will shrink in
horror! I am the one who is—his greatest trial!" He swung his head
away, but Craig noted how his hand gripped the bench until the knuckles
gleamed white. And with sudden and unexpected sympathy, he offered, "He
has cared for you for twenty years; naturally, he—"

"I need no reminders of that, damn you!" Devenish jerked
around to reveal a haggard face and eyes that blazed. "You likely think
me too selfish to be aware of my uncle's self-sacrifice, eh?"

"Yes."

"Well, blast your smuggery, I am
not
unaware! I have disappointed him a hundred times—and worried him twice
that often, belike. But I'll repay him, never doubt it! He is growing
old, but his old age will not be lonely, I do assure you."

"Nonsense!"

With a swift, fluid movement, Devenish came to his feet. "Your
pardon
?'

"He is not old. I doubt he's much past forty."

"Five and forty, if you must know, Master Impudence."

"And have you never noticed, my Lord Arrogance, how fine
looking a man he is? What he needs is a loving wife—not a repentant
would-be martyr."

For a moment Devenish was so taken aback that hurt and rage
left him and he stared his astonishment. Then, "
M-marry
?"
he gasped. "Uncle
Alastair
? Damme, but you
are
wits to let! I might have known you sought me out to mouth some such
fustian!"

"Aye, you might!" Pushing himself away from the tree, Craig
said a disgusted, "And I might have known you were too set up in your
own conceit to listen to aught that did not concern your all-important
self!"

Devenish seized his arm. "Confound you! I'll make you eat
those words!"

"Yap, puppydog," Craig taunted.

Devenish's fist swung up. Craig's hand flashed to catch his
wrist. For an instant they stood there, eye to blazing eye, the
Canadian's fair young might straining to hold back the Englishman's
slighter but powerful arm. And then, with a sweep, Craig released his
grip and moved back.

"Do you see now? D'ye see how easy it would be? I came out
here to bid you farewell, and only look at us! Another moment and—"

"And you would have done—what? Murdered me?"

"Did
you
mean to kill me? Think, man!
Did you?"

"Don't be so blasted ridiculous! Pummel your cloddish head,
perhaps. No more. For Lord's sake, Tyndale, do you really believe I've
murder in mind?"

"No more than I believe my father had. But this morning when
you attacked me—"

"Dash it all, did you fancy your life in danger then?'

"No. But when you tricked me and I grassed you, you went down
mighty hard, cousin. Suppose your head had hit a rock? With what lies
between us, who would have believed I did not deliberately put a period
to you?"

Devenish avoided that earnest gaze and said an uneasy, "Very
few people know what lies between us."

"It would all come out, certainly. And what would that do to
your uncle?" After a brief silence, Craig went on, "I came to tell you
that I am leaving. While I am in Scotland, I mean to find out whatever
I may about the death of your father. And I swear—so long as I live,
should we ever meet again, no matter how you may provoke me, I'll never
raise my hand against you!"

For a long moment they stared at one another in a silent
measuring, both faces grim until a twinkle dawned in Devenish's eyes.
He said, irrepressibly, "How relieved I am. I shall be safe."

Tyndale's lips tightened. "Goodbye, then. I mean to leave at
once. I have already sent Montelongo ahead with my chaise and luggage."

Devenish nodded. Craig started off, hesitated, then turned
back. "We will not meet again, cousin. Will you not at least say
goodbye to me?"

"No need," said Devenish cheerfully, coming up with him. "I
ride with you."

"You—
what
? In spite of all I have said,
you still think I pursue Cousin Yolande?"

"No. But since you raise the question, I'll have no
interference in that quarter."

"Naturally. Unless the lady should—er—change her mind. After
all, no formal announcement has yet been made, so she is not
irrevocably bound."

"
Bound
? Why, you insolent bumpkin, I—"
Devenish burst into a laugh. "Off we go again! Lord, it will be a
miracle do we not come to blows before the day is out. But by hedge or
stile, I go with you. I mean to prove to my uncle that, however
aggravating you may be, I can rise above such petty annoyances. That I
can control my—ah—natural instincts and travel beside you, turning the
other cheek to your boorish ways and smug fatuities, and maintaining
always my usual calm dignity."

Tyndale demonstrated how aggravating he could be. He gave a
shout of laughter.

"What a perfectly lovely morning," said Yolande from beneath
the protection of her sunshade. "I am so glad you suggested that we
walk back to the hotel after church."

Mr. James Garvey directed a glance from the vibrant blooms of
the gardens through which they strolled on this balmy Sunday, to the
lovely face of the lady beside him, framed as it was in a very dainty
high-poked bonnet of cream straw, with pale blue velvet ribbons that
tied demurely under her dimpled chin. "I had at first thought we might
go for an early ride," he said. "But then I supposed you have had
sufficient of riding."

She smiled up at him. "I have indeed. You are a most
thoughtful escort, sir."

"It has been my very great pleasure, ma'am. Indeed, I am most
gratified you do not visit relations along your way, else I should be
sent packing, I do not doubt."

"As a matter of fact, we had intended to, but—" She checked
and said a careful, "It is—er—imperative that we reach Ayrshire as
quickly as possible, and you know how it is with family—you stop to
visit for just a little while, and perhaps have dinner, but they are so
eager to entertain you that a week passes in a twinkling. Papa decided
it was best that we travel straight on."

"And most fortunate for me."

She blushed prettily. "I am assured you will find a way to
contradict me, sir, but I cannot continue to take you out of your way."

"I should not presume to contradict so lovely a lady, but will
point out, rather, that since I also am bound for Scotland, I would
certainly travel the Great North Road."

"Yes, but you must have noted, Mr. Garvey, that we do not make
rapid progress. You could travel much faster alone."

"And much less happily!" He drew her to a halt "Miss Drummond,
am I encroaching? These past three days have been a delight for me, but
I pray you believe that you have only to say the word and I will leave
you in peace."

Yolande scanned the anxious features of this most eligible
bachelor and could only like what she saw. Rumour had it… But rumour
was so often based on petty jealousy. He had been more than kind and,
while openly admiring, had not once stepped beyond the bounds of good
manners. Aunt Arabella was captivated, for Mr. Garvey spared no effort
to show her every attention, never—as was so often the case with
gentlemen—granting the older lady the barest of civilities while
attempting to ingratiate himself with the younger.

"Our journey must have been a great deal more tedious without
your many kindnesses, sir," she said. "For instance, our dinner last
night and the play were both so enjoyable."

"You are too kind. I had feared the farce might offend your
aunt—it was a little broad. But the play was well done, I thought."

Mrs. Drummond had privately expressed herself as considerably
scandalized, but Yolande, no mean judge of character, had suspected
that both her aunt and Mr. Garvey had by far preferred the rather
naughty comedy of the farce to the melodrama of
The
Milkmaid's Secret
—
or—A Tattered Tinker
.
She kept these conclusions to herself, however, continuing to chat
easily with Mr. Garvey as they made their way along the sun-dappled
paths of the little park and thence to thoroughfares busy with open
carriages, their elegantly garbed occupants out for a Sunday drive.
Several people recognized her companion and waved a greeting. He was
very well acquainted, naturally, thought Yolande, and wondered again
why he was going to so much trouble to escort two ladies he scarcely
knew. Early in their journeying he had said that he was bound for
Stirling, but Aunt Arabella had remarked in private that the gentleman
was obviously bewitched, and that she would not be in the least
surprised did he persist in escorting them all the way to Steep
Drummond. Yolande was too level-headed to believe this suave Corinthian
was exactly bewitched. It was said sufficient handkerchiefs had been
dropped for him that he would stand knee-deep in them were they all
gathered around him at once. Still, he was evidently willing to slow
his own progress, and she had been sincere when she'd thanked him for
relieving the tedium of their journey. His cheerful presence had done
much to divert Aunt Arabella's tiresome chatter and had enabled Yolande
to relegate her own perplexities to a far corner of her mind—at least
during the hours of daylight.

The afternoon was growing warm by the time their walk was
concluded, and Mr. Garvey was handing Yolande up the front steps of
their hotel when the diminutive and ferocious boy who served him as
tiger approached. He was, as always, very smart in his scarlet-and-gold
livery, but Mr. Garvey eyed him with just the trace of a frown. The
boy, he ruefully admitted to Yolande, had been bred up in the gutter
and, despite all his own efforts, still used such language as must
shock any gently nurtured lady. Despite this unenthused reception, the
tiger knuckled his brow and bestowed a meaningful look on his employer.

"I collect," sighed Mr. Garvey, "you have got into some
mischief from which I am now expected to extricate you. Is it something
you can manage to convey without offence to the ears of Miss Drummond?"

The tiger glanced at Yolande and hung his head.

Mr. Garvey nodded. "As I suspected. I fear I must investigate
at once, ma'am. If I know this rascal I am quite likely to find the
town beadle awaiting with a warrant for my immediate arrest! May I have
the honour of escorting you down to dinner? Six o'clock? Or is that too
countrified?"

Yolande said that six o'clock would be just right, favoured
both Mr. Garvey and his tiger, who bore the droll name of Lion, with
one of her brightest smiles, and made her way to the suite she shared
with her aunt.

"Here I am at last, dear," she said, opening the door to the
parlour that separated their rooms. "Have I been—" She checked, and
stood motionless on the threshold.

Two young man had sprung up at her entrance. Two men
dissimilar in everything save their fair colouring and something
indefinable that she had not quite been able to place. Her wide gaze
dwelling a shade longer on the taller of the pair, she gasped, "Alain…
! And—Craig! What on earth… ?"

"Discovered you was here, my fair." Devenish beamed, striding
over to claim her hand and drop a proprietary kiss on her brow.

"B-but," she said unsteadily, freeing her hand so as to extend
it to Tyndale, "how? That is— I thought—" Her hand being taken and
bowed over, she was struck by some invisible lightning bolt and so
unnerved that she at once summoned a fierce frown and levelled it at
the unfortunate Devenish.

"Oh, but this is too bad of you, Alain. You know full well my
parents wished me to be free from all entanglements so that I might—"

"Entanglements, is it?" he protested with righteous
indignation. "Now, see here, Yolande, I ain't no entanglement! I've
come rushing here purely so as to escort you—"

Striving to appear collected, when he was in fact badly
shaken, Craig drawled, "I thought you were escorting
me!"

"Yes, but Yolande is so much prettier." Yolande was also
obviously astounded by this apparently amicable exchange, and Devenish
grinned, swung the door to, and imparted, "Ain't no need for you to be
in a pucker lest I slaughter our Colonial bumpkin, coz. We have
declared a truce. Now why in the world would you do so shatter-brained
a thing as to journey to Scotland for the summer?"

"I do not see that it should be judged shatter-brained if I
visit my grandpapa." Yolande removed her lacy shawl as she spoke and,
Craig, being closest, at once took it from her.

Devenish leapt forward and all but tore the reticule from her
hand. "You did not tell me you meant to go!" he complained, with a
fierce scowl at Craig.

"No. Nor do I need an escort, Dev."

" 'Course you need an escort! A single lady jauntering about—"

Mrs. Drummond made an entrance at this point, hurrying from
her bedchamber, proclaiming that she had sent Sullivan out with "him,"
and that he would soon feel better. She gave a little squeak of
surprise when she saw Yolande. "Oh! You are come back, love. Did you
have a nice walk? Was not the sermon inspiring this morning?" She cast
a stern glance at the gentlemen. " 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!'
"