Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 09] - Logic Of The Heart (33 page)

It had been a long day, and she fought a tendency to become
dreamy. Montclair dominated her thoughts. She reminded herself sternly
of his many faults. He personified the artistic temperament with his
fiery angers and lightning changes of mood. He was argumentative and
cynical and far too full of pride. But—she had also seen a tenderness
in his eyes that awoke a frightening emotion in her own heart; he was
all gentleness with little Priscilla, who fairly adored him, and he was
brave also. When his loathsome cousin had sent him tumbling into that
chair, she'd been sure he would be rendered quite helpless, and the
memory of how efficiently he had wielded his crutch, and with what a
thud Sir Dennis had met the floorboards, made her chuckle.

Valentine was fond of her, she knew that. Fond—or grateful for
what she had done; and he was angry because he probably thought Monteil
had offered her a
carte blanche
. She sighed
faintly. Even if he didn't believe the worst of her, should anything
happen to his brother before Lord Geoffrey set up his nursery,
Valentine would become Baron Montclair, and a fine uproar it would
cause if his lordship stooped to wed the notorious Widow Henley. She
was shocked then to realize how far her dreams had carried her, and her
heart sank.

Wolfgang, who had been snoozing with his head on her slipper,
leapt up and darted from the room, yipping frantically, and a few
seconds later she heard the Bo'sun's voice in the front hall, and
Priscilla came dancing in, the dog leaping beside her.

Susan stood and the little girl flung herself into her arms,
squealing, "Mama, Mama! I getted my new specs and I c'n see better than
anybody. Do you like them? Look, Mama!" She tilted her small head
upwards, posing, her eyes huge with excitement, and her cheeks bright
as two roses.

Putting off the crumpled bonnet, Susan admired the new
spectacles, and the child gabbled on. "We had the loveliest time, Mama.
Bo'sun George buyed me a ice, and I only dripped a teensy bit on
Starry's dress, an' there were so many people, an' we seed the Abbey,
which is big, an' the Bo'sun said we went past Bloody Meadows, but I
din't see no blood, and Starry was cross with him for using bad words,
which he said he wasn't, but she wouldn't talk to him no more, I mean
any more, an' he got sad, so I had to ask her to please make him not
sad, 'cause I like him better when he's not sad, don't you, Mama?
And—oooh! You look
beautiful
!"

Priscilla's admiration was echoed by Mrs. Starr, who hurried
into the room apologizing profusely for their late return.

"We have an unexpected guest," said Susan.

The little lady threw a darkling glance toward the ceiling.
"So I heard, Mrs. Sue."

"Did you also hear that the gentleman rendered us a great
service?"

Mrs. Starr sighed. "Aye. So we must be properly grateful, I
collect. Well, dinner will be ready on time, I promise you."

"It smells magnif'cent," said Priscilla. "An' I'm hungrier
than a hogsbody!"

"Priscilla! A well-bred young lady does not use such ugly
expressions!"

The child laughed merrily. "The Bo'sun's not a young lady,
Mama!"

"Just as I thought," exclaimed Mrs. Starr, scandalized. "That
man wants for manners, Mrs. Sue!"

"No, he doesn't," said Priscilla. "He wants you, Starry. I
heard him tell you that by the sausages today, an' you said—"

"My gracious, what will the child say next?" gasped Mrs.
Starr, and fled, very pink in the face.

Susan struggled to suppress a smile, and watching her
anxiously, Priscilla said, "Mama, Bo'sun George really did say that,
an' I don't—" Glancing to the side, she interrupted herself. "Mr. Val!
Did you see… my… ?" her words faded into awed silence.

Propped by his crutches, Montclair stood in the doorway. For
the first time since his arrival he was formally dressed in a brown
tailcoat, cream waistcoat, and fawn pantaloons, and contrived to look
elegant, despite the splints, and the fact that he was obliged to wear
a slipper on one foot.

He gave a rather embarrassed grin and said, "Deemer valeted
me. Ma'am, may I say you look—"

His words were drowned by Priscilla's squeaks. "Oh," she cried
hilariously, "you look so
funny
in your evening
dress, Mr. Val, with your pan'loons all torn, an'—"

"That will do!" said Susan, in a tone she seldom employed to
the child. "Apologize to Mr. Montclair at once, and then you may go to
your room!"

Shocked and frightened, Priscilla's lower lip trembled as she
offered her apologies, then ran from the room with a muffled sob.

Montclair frowned. "I fancy she did but speak truth, ma'am. I
must indeed look funny, and she is only a child, after all."

Wishing she had not spoken quite so harshly, and all too aware
of the reason, Susan said, "She must learn it is not proper for a child
to speak so, but I wish I had not—" She smiled wryly. "But it does not
do to turn about, you know, when the damage is done."

"Or the good," he said with an immediate answering smile. "I
am very sure she will exercise more caution the next time, and—who
knows?—she might feel obliged to tell my uncle his—er, nether garments
looked 'funny,' and then the fat
would
be in the
fire!"

Grateful for his whimsical lightness, Susan chuckled.

Montclair made his clumsy way closer to her and said in a
caressing tone, "Do you know how lovely you are when you laugh, Mrs.
Sue?"

He looked really earnest, and her silly pulses were riotous
because he stood so close and the amber flecks in his eyes were so
bright. Faith, but it was enough to make one doubt one's mental
processes! "Thank you," she said. And returning to the sofa, fighting
to be sensible, added prosaically, "Deemer was a valet at one time. The
poor fellow is a sort of underpaid major domo now, as you've seen, but
he valets Andy, and very well, I think."

Montclair had hoped to sit beside her, but the splints
restricted him, and the sofa was too difficult to escape from. With a
slight frown he lowered himself onto a straight-backed chair. "Yes,
Deemer is a very good man. I feel downright guilty that I've taken so
much of his time. I cannot think why Gould has not come to me. You'd
not object to his presence here, surely?"

For an instant Susan froze. She said, "I must have forgot to
tell you, Mr. Valentine. Lady Trent sent word that your man could not
come because there is a regular outbreak of mumps at Longhills, and she
fears lest you might catch it in your weakened condition."

He muttered, puzzled, "Yet they were eager for me to go home.
At all events, I had mumps as a child, so that is no threat, is it?"

"Er—no. But—Priscilla has not had it, you see."

He looked at her steadily. "And if it had not been Priscilla,
it would have been Starry, or Martha, or perhaps your brother who has
not been exposed to the ailment. Any excuse, eh, Mrs. Sue."

Her heart hammering, she said, "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well. Come now, own up. It is very clear
that your people are so overworked you have to perform many menial
tasks yourself. I am greatly in your debt and most eager to help. I
offer you the services of my excellently trained maids, which logically
you should accept. Yet you very stubbornly refuse them. Why?"

"Well—that is exactly it, you see," she stammered. "I quite
believe that your maids are excellently trained and—and likely most
superior, and accustomed to working in a great house, and—"

"Good heavens," he exclaimed. "Do you fancy my employees to
consider themselves above working at High-perch?"

"Well—no, of course not. But—well, we go along very simply,
and—"

"Which will likely be a welcome change of pace for them."
Triumphant, he said, "I shall write a note requiring Gould to bring two
girls he knows to be industrious and good workers, which is all we need
be concerned with, no?"

"Most certainly not! Sir, there is a great deal more to being
a good servant than simply to work hard. I had rather have a somewhat
inept girl who is kind and can be pleasant with her fellow workers
than—"

He laughed. "Ah—so that's it! You women with your so easily
ruffled feathers! Good heavens, ma'am, all they've to do is what
they're told."

"And how if they quarrel and scratch at each other all day? I
suppose you
men
would not give a button for that!"

"No, of course not. I never saw a group of females yet but
what they scratched at each other, however sweetly."

"Oh! Infamous!" she exclaimed, but was unable to repress a
smile.

"Then it is settled," he went on firmly. "Gould will bring two
maids and instruct them that they are coming here to please
you
and do their work properly. If they don't, only tell 'em you will
report their behaviour to me and they'll be turned off."

"As if I would do such a thing to someone else's servants!"

"Lord above! What a storm in a teapot! Then
I'll
tell 'em! But I mean to send for them, I promise you."

She rose, her eyes flashing. "And I promise
you
that I'll have no mumpy servants here! And it is
not a
storm in a teapot!"

"Dear me," murmured Imre Monteil, coming gracefully into the
room. "Have you put our lovely hostess out of patience with you
already, Valentine?" Smiling admiringly at the flushed Susan, he
advanced to bow over her hand. "
Vraiment
, but I
cannot wonder at it. Any man who would babble of teapots to a goddess
deserves her contempt."

His eyes smiled up at her above the red lips that were
touching her fingers again, and she could have wept because by his very
intervention and his unfortunate choice of words, this foolish
discussion suddenly took on the aspects of a major quarrel. Before she
could speak, however, Montclair had taken up the gauntlet.

"Then I must pay heed to your babblings, monsieur," he said
stiffly. "I had not thought to have earned Mrs. Henley's contempt, but
no doubt the lady finds your wit more endearing than my poor efforts."

"I did not say I held you in contempt, Mr. Montclair," began
Susan.

"But of course, for you are too gently kind to make such a
remark, even if you felt it," inserted the Swiss, bowing her to a chair
and drawing another as close to it as was possible. "For myself I count
it an honour and a privilege to find a topic that will please so
enchanting a lady."

"Such as buying my house?" drawled Valentine, his eyes
glinting unpleasantly. "Is that why you're always hanging about
Highperch?"

Susan said hurriedly, "I told you, sir, that Monsieur Monteil
has been so kind as to put some business in my brother's way."

Deemer came in with a laden tray. Accepting a glass of
Madeira, Valentine waited until the butler had gone out again, then
said, "I gather this—er, 'business' has to do with Lyddford's boat?"

"But how astute." Monteil beamed at him. "And I did warn you I
meant to offer again for Highperch, you know. Although…" he tugged at
his lip, his dark eyes flickering from one to the other, "I am unsure
at this point as to which of you so charming people I must approach in
the matter."

Susan held her breath. Montclair said with a curl of the lip,
"There is, I believe, an old adage which says, 'When in doubt—do not.'"

"Is there?" The Swiss looked impressed. "This, I have not
heard.
Merci, mon cher
. Always I am grateful to
learn more of your language."

Montclair inclined his head in the slightest bow. "And I, in
turn, would be interested to learn what your business with Lyddford has
to do with Highperch, monsieur."

Susan put in uneasily, "My brother moves cargo for Monsieur
Monteil."

Valentine's eyes held steady on Monteil. "Cargo… ?"

The Swiss laughed. "Ah, dear my friend, you must not take this
simple thing and weave it into the so fascinating Gothic romance. I am
closing my London house, and this cargo consists of some of my personal
effects, merely. Nothing more sinister than that, I promise it." He
waved one of his long hands in a deprecating gesture. "But if your
perfervid imagination conjures up images of my involving Lyddford and
my dear Mrs. Henley"—his fingers rested lightly over Susan's hand on
the arm of her chair—"in gun-running, or the slave traffic, or
something equally wicked, you shall come with me into the cellar and
inspect my crates."

Susan moved her hand almost at once, but the possessive way in
which the Swiss had patted it, the proprietary implications contained
in both words and gesture, plus Monteil's continuing air of amused
condescension, had fanned the flame of Valentine's hot temper. He said
tersely, "I feel sure that I must have mistaken you, monsieur.
Certainly no one calling himself a gentleman would store his effects in
the home of another, without so much as a by-your-leave."

Susan had long judged Imre Monteil a dangerous man. Now she
read a deadly menace in his very immobility as he sat there, leaning
forward slightly, his unblinking gaze fixed upon the younger man. There
could be no doubt but that he rated his pride high. Montclair as
obviously sought a quarrel: there was an icy hauteur in the tilt of the
dark head, the disdainful droop of the eyelids, the scornful twist to
the mouth. Experiencing the sensation that she sat between two
smouldering volcanoes, she tried to think of something to say to ease
the tension.

And then, incredibly, a look of dismay banished the glare in
the jet eyes of the Swiss. "Do I offend?" he asked anxiously. "I assure
you, Valentine, that Lyddford gave his permission."

"And it is purely a temporary arrangement," gulped Susan, as
relieved as she was astonished.

"Prior to your taking possession of Highperch Cottage,
Monteil?" sneered Valentine.