Tonight or Never (22 page)

The fop squeaked in horror, the sound reverberating through John's skull.
"Breeches?
I am not referring to breeches! I speak of a much more important accessory—the waistcoat!"

"Give me strength." Lord Sexton gnashed his teeth.

By the time they made it down to the dining room, everyone was already seated around the table, several voluble conversations going on at once.

Percy paused with him in the doorway to remark, "You see, John? You are like Don Giovanni—the ghosts of the French aristocracy dine at your table." Lips twitching, he gestured with his hand, indicating the impatient assemblage. They kept to town hours at
Chacun
à
Son
Goût
.

"Very amusing, Percy.
Let us hope they do not portend my demise." Winking, John took his seat at the head of the table.

Percy raised his lorgnette to examine the viscount. "There are all kinds of demise, my good fellow. Just see if there isn't." Grinning at his own private amusement, Percy took his own seat next to the
Zambeau
, who had managed to capture a place for herself at John's right.

John wryly glanced down the table, noting that the
Cyndreacs
were cleaned up,
reclothed
, and bushy tailed. Two of them sported black eyes that hadn't been there a few hours ago.

He recognized several articles of his own clothing, hanging in a poor fit on the younger men. Across the table from them,
Deiter
was wearing his gold waistcoat. He squinted at the far end, where his uncle was sporting a new shirt under a dark coat.

That's my ivory shirt!

No wonder his clothes kept disappearing. Something one of the
Cyndreacs
was saying caught his attention.

"…
we
are
Cyndreacs
; we live for romance!"

Wonderful
.
That was what he needed to hear.

One could only endure. He sighed, lifting his soup spoon to his lips.

"Aren't they marvelous?" The
Zambeau
placed her hand on his thigh, smiling coquettishly as she confided, "They're a bit too young for my taste—I prefer the more accomplished."

John halted in the act of tasting his mulligatawny soup and blinked once. The woman's hand was traveling up his leg with the speed of a fast trotter. Slowly, he raised his eyes to glance across the table at—

The phrase
throwing daggers with one's eyes
took on new meaning. His wife lifted her wineglass and swallowed a measure of drink. Then she turned to the nearest
Cyndreac
and gave him a devastating smile.

John's nostrils flared. It wasn't as if he had invited this!

He turned to
Zu-Zu
. "Countess, I believe you have misplaced your hand."

"Have I?" she toyed with him.

She was a woman used to getting what she wanted. Viscount Sexton had no intentions of encouraging her. Nor would he allow Chloe to continue to flirt with that young pup.

"Do not trifle with me." He spoke harshly, under his breath. "Remove it."

The
Zambeau
pouted; then instantly brightened. "You are hungry, no? How inconsiderate of me—we will pick up again later."

"No, we will—" But she had already turned her attention to something Percy was saying. Desultorily, he went back to his soup.

At the other end of the table, Maurice curiously watched the exchange, his shrewd gaze going back and forth between Chloe and John.
Ho-ho
.
He fixed his sights on the
Cyndreacs
, a slow smile spreading across his features. It was past time he took them under his wing.

"So… the Black Rose has once again appeared in the nick of time." Maurice took a sip of wine. "Was it close for you, Jean-Jacques?"

"Jean-Jacques?"
John asked, confused.

"
Oui
, I am Jean-Jacques." Jean-Jacques, John soon learned, was the name of one of the
Cyndreacs
. Chloe gleefully informed him of the others.

"This is Jean-Paul, Jean-Louis, Jean-Claude, Jean-Jules, Jean-Pierre, and…
Adrien
."

John's lips twitched.
"
Adrien
?"
Where did that fit in?

"
Oui
," the one at the end answered.

John noted it was the same brother who had spoken to him in the hall. The one the others seemed to listen to. Good lord, he was starting to tell them apart. "You are the oldest, then?"

"
Non
, I am the youngest."

John's jaw dropped. "But they listen to you."

"I have the best title." He beamed proudly. "Papa saved it for me."

"Besides that," Jean-Jules piped in, "he is the smartest of us. Papa said he finally got it right with
Adrien
."

Adrien
grinned.

"What about the twins?" Chloe asked.

"
Twins
?"
John echoed.

"Yes, Jean-Paul and Jean Claude are obviously twins, John."

How could she tell? They all looked alike to him.
Same black curly hair, white teeth, and gold eyes.
He shrugged.

"The twins were before me,"
Adrien
answered philosophically.

John rolled his eyes, for once grateful he had never had to deal with siblings. Although this group seemed happy enough with each other—if you overlooked the two black eyes and the constant squabbling. The corners of his mouth curved upward.

Maurice returned to his earlier topic of the Black Rose. "Whoever he is, we owe him a great debt for saving our friends." He gestured to the table at large.

"Hear, Hear!" Many at the table concurred by clinking their wineglasses with their forks.

"To the Black Rose!" Percy suddenly stood as if overcome with benevolence for the unknown savior. He raised his glass in toast. "
Anna
virumque
cano
—I sing of arms and the man!"

Please don't
. John winced, knowing what was coming. Sure enough, Percy started in on that dreadful poem.

"They search high and they search low…"

Chloe, Maurice, and the two countesses joined him. "…
the
proletariat wonder where he could go…"

The malady is spreading
. John pinched the bridge of his nose.

Finally it ended with the appalling finale: "… that blasted, evasive Rose!"

John breathed again.

The
Cyndreacs
seemed to like it, all of the counts immediately begging Chloe to teach it to them. If they started reciting it, John decided he was tossing them out, guillotine or not.

"It was close for us." Jean-Jules spoke quietly. "Others were not so lucky."

"Anyone we knew?" Maurice asked.

"The Due de
Montaine
and his daughter,
Barone
Dufond
."

"You remember them, Chloe, do you not?" Jean-Claude asked. "He was always with his nose in the air and she with her buck teeth and cockeyes." He demonstrated by crossing his eyes and sticking out his top teeth.

"She cannot help the way she looks," Jean-Jules defended the lady, showing a sensitive streak in his nature.

"True."
Adrien
shrugged. "But she is forever whining, Jules. You must admit that."

"Well, she will not be whining soon." He threw down his napkin and left the room.

Everyone was surprised by his abrupt departure. Finally
Adrien
spoke. "It was hardest on Jules; he is of a reflective nature and the injustices have sickened him. He was ill in the prison…" His voice trailed off as if he too did not want to remember the horrors they had witnessed.

"Will he be all right?" Chloe was worried for the kind young man.

"Yes, Jean-Jules has enormous strength of character."

John viewed
Adrien
with a new respect. It was becoming clear to him why the
Cyndreacs
looked to him for direction. Despite his age he was a born leader.

"These stories are so distressing." Percy dabbed his eyes with his lace handkerchief. "To think—the seven of you fine young men thrown into prison simply because you—"

"Wait a minute." John sat straight up in his chair.
"Seven of you!
Countess
Zambeau
, didn't you say
six
were imprisoned, that one had escaped?"

Zu-Zu
looked quite surprised. "Why, yes, I thought there were six."

John speared
Adrien
with a challenging look. "What have you to say, Comte
Cyndreac
; how is it one of you was not in prison yet is here now? Perhaps it is because one of you is the Black Rose, hmm?"

The
Cyndreacs
looked at each other.

Adrien
clearly did not like this turn of events. "That is ridiculous, Lord Sexton! With all due respect,
Zu-Zu
, you are mistaken; we were all taken."

The
Zambeau
furrowed her brow. "Perhaps I was mistaken. I would recognize the man who saved me; it was not a
Cyndreac
."

John wasn't convinced.

"Don't blame you for trying, Sexton; everyone is dying to know his identity." Percy swallowed a piece of fowl. "They say he used to be a pirate. Fancy that, what?
Robbing the aristocracy one day only to save their heads the next."

Everyone began commenting on that juicy tidbit. Until
Deiter's
moribund tone broke through the chatter.

"In my village, a man died four times."

Everyone stopped speaking to stare agog at the man who had uttered this bizarre snippet.

"The first time he died, we buried him in the churchyard." He pierced his captive audience with a morose glower. Schnapps helped by showing his tooth. "He came back."

Everyone gasped.

Except Chloe, who, John noted, had a gleam of anticipation in those violet eyes. The bloodthirsty little wench, he thought with a chuckle.

She loved nothing better than a lurid tale.

"The second time…" The dinner guests leaned forward. "The wolves…" He trailed off.

"The wolves," Jean-Louis prodded him. "What about the wolves?"

Deiter's
chin dropped onto his chest; a loud snore followed.

"
Ohhhh
!"
Everyone sat back in their seats, disappointed.

John stifled a chuckle.
They get bamboozled every time
.

"Well, I heard an amusing story the other day." Percy patted his mouth with his napkin. "You know the Earl of Louder, John?"

John opened his mouth to answer; however, in that briefest of pauses wherein one takes a breath, Percy continued on. Sir Cecil-Basil apparently lived by the maxim He who hesitates is interrupted.

"The fellow is rather an impossible hypochondriac.
Can't tolerate anything that even hints at rumpling his perfectly ordered existence."

"Sounds somewhat familiar," John mumbled into his glass.

"They say he hasn't spoken a word for five years!"

"Why?" The countess hadn't heard this.

"Don't know; one can only assume he felt the spoken word disrupted his orderly life, somehow bringing the threat of disease with it."

"How eccentric."
Zu-Zu
never considered any member of the aristocracy as out-and-out peculiar.

"Oh, there's more! Seems he was told that a certain authoress was coming to see him—believe it was
Mariane
Turnery—the one who wrote that romantic novel…"

"Oh, she's marvelous!" The countess smiled.

Percy made a moue with his mouth. "Couldn't go by the earl; he suddenly started screeching, 'Take me away, take me away!' "

Everyone at the table started laughing, including John.

Percy added drolly, "Seems that the horror of an infestation of
literary pestilence
was enough to snap the man out of his monomania."

The dining room roared with laughter.

The following afternoon, John sat in the study staring morosely at the ledgers before him.

He detested ledgers.

Why was he even bothering with them?
Especially on a day like this?
His sights went to the French doors behind his desk that led out into a garden. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm.