Cherished Enemy (36 page)

“Hum…” muttered the colonel, unconvinced. “
Cothurnus
—what?”

“
Paradigma,
dear. It means—Spiralling Scarlet—no, Dr. Victor?”

“Sweeping Scarlet, I believe, ma'am,” he corrected blandly.

Rosamond started and looked at him sharply.

“But, I thought—” began Charles, but was over-ridden as his sire embarked upon an intensive interrogation regarding The Surprise that lasted until Mrs. Porchester began to look indignant, whereupon he thanked her with rather spurious heartiness.

Victor's offer to go and take the “poor puppy” for a walk was not received with marked approval, but when Rosamond said that she would like them all to see Trifle Towers, the colonel was intrigued and the small procession wandered to the stables.

Trifle strained and cavorted at the end of his long chain, exhibiting every sign of a dog trying to turn itself inside out, while the ears of his visitors were assailed by a series of piercing yips and barks. His new house, now sporting a red trim, looked—as Deborah remarked—most impressive. “Although,” she added with a dimpling smile at Victor, “I fail to see any towers.”

“I doubt,” growled the colonel, fixing the hysterical dog with a darkling eye, “there will be time to add them!”

“Now, Lennox,” scolded Mrs. Porchester, “you cannot be cross on your birthday. Only look at how good the poor baby has been. Chained all this time and with not so much as a drop of water!”

A groom who had been standing nearby took exception to this remark, explaining that each time Trifle was given a bowl from which to eat or drink he either tried to devour the bowl or tossed it halfway across the stables. “'Smornin', his water bowl hit poor Knight Errant on the nose. Fair took aback, he were, and bucked and kicked that hearty as he's made a fine big hole in his stall.”

“What?”
roared the colonel.

“Come and see, sir.”

The colonel, Mrs. Estelle trailing anxiously after him, went to see.

Charles said softly, “Deb—a word, love.”

“Shall we take the miscreant for a walk before your sire returns?” suggested Victor. “Perhaps, by the time we come back, he'll have recovered from the shock.”

With the radiant Deborah on his arm, Charles had already departed, and Rosamond was very willing to accompany the rebel on a walk about the estate, or anywhere else, for that matter.

After a short tussle Victor freed Trifle from his chain, failed to stand clear, and blinked tearful eyes at Rosamond as they followed the raucous hound, who was fast disappearing around the side of the stable block.

“Oh dear,” said Rosamond, trying not to giggle.

“That revolting—!” Coming to a halt as they entered the little grove of beeches a short distance from the stables, he dabbed his handkerchief at his nose. “Am I a casualty again?”

“Let me see.” She stood directly in front of him and inspected the injury with care, then wiggled the nose experimentally.

“Ow!” said Victor.

“I think 'tis not broken,” she observed, twinkling at him. “However, it does look to be rather a different shape.”

“It does?” He fingered his nose anxiously. “Bent?”

“Shorter.”

He laughed and seized her by the shoulders. “Wretched girl!”

“Depraved doctor,” she retaliated, making no effort to break away.

For a moment they stood thus, face to face, very still, each heart thundering madly.

Victor thought with painful intensity, ‘I must not let her see how I adore her!' And, determined to be sensible, heard his own voice, as from a distance, murmur idiotically, “Do you know that your eyes are the same colour as my father's bowl?”

“Bowl…?” she echoed sighfully.

“Yes. The Egyptian government presented it to him with the pyramid.”

She was jolted from her trance. “I must have misunderstood. You said—”

“Pyramid. You shall have to come and see it someday.” The knowledge of how remote was that possibility caused his hands to tighten on her shoulders and restored him to the horrid realm of common sense. He released her as though she were molten, and went on, “He was able to prevent some thieves from ransacking a pyramid, and the authorities were so grateful they had a miniature of the pyramid built on our estate, and sent some artifacts to my governor also.”

“Your father is not a doctor, then?”

“His degree is philosophy, not medicine. He's quite famous in the field of archaeology. World-wide, in fact.”

He looked remote and sad, and she said, “And you are very fond of him. How long is it since last you saw him?”

“Five months.” He smiled brightly. “Never heed my gloom. I'm alive; my family is safe and unharmed; I have so much for which to be grateful.”

“But—you wonder when you will see them again.”

He was silent, knowing that to look down at her was disastrous, yet unable to keep his eyes from her. Lightly touching the patch beside her mouth, he murmured, “Do you know what this is called?”

“The—kissing,” she answered, standing on tiptoe and lifting her face.

“Yes.” He tried bravely to step back, but his feet seemed to have taken root.

Rosamond whispered, “My mother always used to—to wear it on Papa's birthday … so…” One small hand touched his chest and slid up his left shoulder.

The dimple quivered briefly beside his lips. “Do you remember,” he said, running one fingertip down her cheek, “when you pleaded with me to help that poor lad near Lewes…?”

“I remember.”

“Do you know what I was longing to do … have been longing to do ever since?”

She said nothing, but her other hand slipped up to his right shoulder, and she smiled.

“This,” he whispered and, abandoning gallantry, bent to those red, parted lips.

He knew what he was about, did this Scots gentleman, and glad of it, Rosamond drifted in a bliss she had never dreamt could be so all-consuming.

“Get away! Blatht your feet! Get
down,
thir!”

That irate masculine roar shattered the ecstatic idyll and brought Rosamond's eyes wide open.

Victor, his lips devastatingly caressing her ear, sighed, but knew the interruption was well timed.

“Tho here you are! If ever I—oh—Jupiter! Your pardon! Wrong treeth!”

The elegant gentleman who was hurriedly quitting the grove halted as Victor put Rosamond from him with a rueful smile and called, “Come back, you dolt, and be presented.”

Horrified, Rosamond thought, ‘Oh! He will think me shockingly fast!' and instinctively attempted to straighten her hair. She checked, staring. Surely, she had seen this man somewhere before?

He came reluctantly to join them. Similar in height and build to Victor, he was a very different type. His apple-green coat was peerlessly cut and the pockets and great cuffs were lavishly adorned with rich silver
passementerie.
His waistcoat was of pale green embroidered with small silver bells, and ornate silver buckles fastened the knees of his cream satin breeches. From amid the pristine purity of the lace at his throat a large emerald sent out its subtle bluish gleams. His wig, although not ostentatious, was of the very latest French style and framed thin features, unremarkable save for a firm mouth and a fine if rather shadowed pair of tawny hazel eyes. His dress, coupled with the lisp, had solidified Rosamond's first impression that he was a dandy. A shy smile caused her to revise that impression abruptly. “'Tis the smuggler!” she exclaimed, then clapped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

“The—deuth!” gasped the new arrival, staring at her with dilating eyes. “What have you been telling the lady, you villain?”

“Anything but the truth, you may be sure,” laughed Victor. “Miss Albritton, allow me to present Thaddeus Dunster, Lord Briley.” As his friend bowed and Rosamond sank into a curtsy, he cautioned, “Do not be taken in by that grandiose title and all his frills and laces. He's a devil on the battlefield and leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever—”

It seemed to Rosamond that the young peer flinched. She looked at him curiously, and Victor, who had paused, eyed him searchingly and said in a very different tone, “Thad? You look a touch pulled, old lad. Trouble?”

“A pretty fellow I would be to be troubled in the prethenth of a true Fair.” With a bright grin Briley lisped, “Rob thinkth himthelf a great man, Mith Albritton, only becauth he can thay my name better than I can. I am acquainted with your brother, but I confeth I'd no idea he wath lucky enough to number tho lovely a lady among hith near and dear.”

She smiled and thanked him, warming to his whimsical courtesy and thinking that Rob was right, he did look as if he had been ill.

Victor asked eagerly, “And have you word of my sister, Thad?”

His lordship directed an uneasy glance at Rosamond.

She said at once, “I shall leave you gentlemen together.”

Victor's hand shot out and caught her arm. Not taking his eyes from Briley, he said, “I am a selfish man. Please stay. Miss Albritton knows who I really am, and what we are about, Thad. You may speak freely.”

Briley looked at Rosamond gravely for a moment, then nodded. “I wath able to deliver your letter to Prudenth with no difficulty.” He detached a folded sheet from his pocket. “
Voilà!
Her reply.”

With a murmur of apology Victor broke the seal and ran his eye rapidly down the page. Once he paused to direct a frowning glance at his friend, then he read on. Folding the sheet, he said broodingly, “My sister has not seen Delavale for ten days. She says he is watched day and night—as we feared, and urges that I make no further attempt to contact her. Thad, you madman! I told Treve to insist you not attempt it if 'twas too chancy! You should have stayed in Sussex with your friends. Certainly, you must not go again into Oxfordshire.”

“Never fret, dear boy. Any rithk I may have taken wath well worth it, for your lovely thithter wath purely overjoyed to learn you yet live.”

Victor's eyes softened. “Aye, she's a good little chit. I only pray she will find her happiness. As for you Thad, what a vision you are! Faith, but your magnificence fairly dazzles the eye!”

“I wath invited to a birthday party,” expostulated his lordship indignantly. “Did you think I would come wearing grime and a loincloth?”

“I wish I may see it,” laughed Victor. “Who invited you? Charles?”

“An open invitation,” said Briley airily. “To be taken up whenever indicated, which I interpreted ath being here and now. Though I'll own I wath never tho taken aback ath when you came toddling out of The Mermaid Inn t'other day.”

Victor chuckled. “I wish you might have seen your face, but 'twas an awful waste of good brandy.”

“I think I do not get a doubler like that every day! I had expected to run into a gentleman o' the plaid down here, but not
you!
Why are you come, my poor lunatic?”

“Not to replace Ian Crowley, if that's the bee you have in your bonnet. I came on my own account, but we're properly desperate for his key to the cypher. Have you heard aught of him, Thad?”

Briley looked aghast. “Lord! Didn't Mith Thingleton tell you?”

“We've scarce had a private moment with the lady.” His eyes narrowing, Victor asked tersely, “What's amiss? He's not taken, surely?”

Hesitating, Briley said with obvious reluctance, “Rob, I know you admire him, but— Oh, devil take it! Colonel Thir Ian Crowley ith—dead, dear boy.”

Victor blanched, groaned and turned away, a hand clapped over his eyes. After a moment he muttered brokenly, “Then this sorry world has lost one—one of the finest gentlemen I ever knew … Oh, damn!
Damn!
What a
stupid
waste!” There was a hushed pause, Briley exchanging an aghast glance with Rosamond. Then Victor turned to them again, haggard-faced, but in command of himself. “How, Thad? Are you aware?”

“Hith flight to the coatht wath long and hard, that much I know. He had endured a great deal and wath tired and very ill when he finally landed at Dieppe. One of our military wath hot after him—fella named Holt. Crowley got away but had to make a run for Italy. The pneumonia carried the poor fellow off before ever Mith Thingleton could reach him.”

Victor muttered broodingly, “He fought the good fight, God rest him! Well, we must keep on. I suppose there's no one else might have the key?”

Briley glanced about cautiously, then answered, “Delavale, could we but get to him. Cannot.”

“Lord, what a bog! Well, we shall just have to break the code ourselves. Does Treve know all this?”

“I—er rather doubt it. Thought I'd come up with him on the way here. He told me he'd be keeping an eye on your back. Ain't one to let a fellow down, old Treve. Feel a bit uneathy about not having theen him, to tell you the truth.”

“No call to worry for that one. He's probably off helping the poor lad we snatched from the dragoons a few days since.”

Briley pursed his lips and looked dubious. “Have you had no luck at all with the decoding?”

“Very little, sad to tell. And furthermore, we've an unwelcome—”

A cacophony of barks, a shout, and a distant scream cut through Victor's words. He looked at Rosamond in dismay and they said as one—“Trifle!”

*   *   *

“Thank goodness for Miss Seddon,” said Deborah, closing the kitchen door and smiling at the distant cousin who had always seemed more like a sister, and who had so nearly become her sister-in-law. “I think she and Cook will be able somehow to stick it back together, don't you?”

“I hope so!” Rosamond shook her head. “What a pest Trifle is! But he's only a puppy, you know, and had we not forgot about him for a minute, he'd never have come galloping in and frightened the maid so that she dropped Papa's birthday cake.”