Love Became Theirs (11 page)

"On the contrary, I did my best to assist you, and would have done so if you hadn't alarmed my horse," Peter replied.

"A horse over which you appeared to have no control." She knew this was deeply unfair, but that was nothing beside the pleasure of infuriating him. "Whatever you meant to do, Count Rostoy was the man who actually saved me. Shall I snub him after that? Pretty behaviour indeed!"

"Very well, madam," he snapped. "You have made your partiality clear beyond misunderstanding. I didn't think you could be misled by a loud voice and a raucous manner. I estimated you as a woman of character. I blame myself for the mistake."

She stared at him, almost gaping.

How could she ever have mistaken this man for a gentleman? To speak to a woman in such a way! And a sick woman at that!

It was beside the point that, at this precise moment, she did not feel ill. On the contrary. She felt possessed by a glorious fury that filled her with new strength. It was a positive pleasure to give as good as she got.

"I repeat," she said emphatically, "that I have no fault to find with his manners. I have, however, much fault to find with yours. I am accountable to Lord Lancing, not to you. If he has no complaint to make of me, then you should have none."

His eyes gleamed. "Have I not?"

"No sir, you have not. If you object to my behaviour, I suggest you approach my employer. If he is displeased, he can dismiss me."

"Of course I don't want to see you dismissed," he said raggedly. "But you allow Count Rostoy intimacies which – that is, he is not an acceptable person for you to know."

"And his sister?" she flashed.

The words were unladylike, but she could not help herself, and she had the satisfaction of knowing that they had gone home. His expression tightened, and his eyes flashed anger.

"We will leave her out of this discussion, if you please," he said coldly.

"Certainly. Let us leave them both out of this discussion. Kindly understand, once and for all, that my friendships do not concern you."

"The devil they – " he began angrily. Then he stopped and his face changed. Anger left from it, to be replaced by fear. "What is it? What's the matter?"

Her feeling of well-being had suddenly drained away, leaving her faint and exhausted from the very strength of her anger. The world swam about her. Through the mists she saw his face, pale and distraught, felt his hands seize her, heard his cry of "Rona!
My God, Rona!"

Then she felt herself lifted in his arms. He was running to the house and up the stairs, crying, "Get the doctor!"

She was being carried upstairs, clasped in his arms, and it felt so different to being carried by the Count. It felt so safe, so wonderful.

He kicked open her bedroom door. Then he laid her on her bed and retreated, leaving her in the hands of the women who hurried in. Her last view was of his face, the mask stripped away, his eyes wild and horrified.

The doctor arrived again and reproved her for getting up too soon.

"But I was lying down," she protested. "Most of the time, anyway. It's just that I was outside instead of in bed."

"And how did you get so agitated that you collapsed?" he asked wryly. "Perhaps you were watching the thrilling antics of a bird?"

"No, of course not."

"Or maybe you had a quarrel with your lover?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

"He is not my lover," she said, so emphatically that the well-meaning little man retired discomfited.

She had supper in bed. Alice brought it in and fussed over her like a mother hen.

"Have you got everything you need?" she asked for the hundredth time.

"Yes," Rona laughed. She was feeling well again. "You're going to kill me with kindness."

"Oh, I nearly forgot, Uncle Peter asked me to give you this."

She showed Rona a little box, wrapped in gold paper.

"Another present," she said. "Isn't that nice of him? Mind you," she added with an air of worldly wisdom, "I expect the Countess helped him choose it."

Rona was unwrapping the paper and opening the box inside. At last Peter's gift of a small china figurine lay in her hand.

"No," she said softly. "I don't think anyone else chose this."

It was a Harlequin.

The next day Rona waited to see Peter, to ask him about the figurine. Surely, now he would admit to being Harlequin? And then there were so many questions she wanted to ask him.

But he did not come to see her.

At Madame Thierre's insistence she remained in bed another two days. During that time she was bombarded with red roses from Alexei.

"My own offering looks quite trivial beside them," Lord Lancing said, extending his hand, bearing a small bouquet of white roses, and smiling ruefully.

"I prefer these," Rona said, taking the roses. "Thank you. Perhaps somebody could take those ridiculous red ones away."

"Poor Count Rostoy. How his heart would grieve at your rejection of his offering!"

"Count Rostoy enjoys making theatrical gestures, but he has no more a heart for me than I have for him," Rona said firmly. "He makes me laugh, and that's the best I can say of him."

"Except that he saved your life," the Earl reminded her.

"I suppose so. But the water was only three feet deep, and if he hadn't waded in someone else would have done."

The Earl roared with laughter.

"How appallingly practical women are!"

"I just don't see Count Rostoy as a hero."

"I'm glad of that," he said simply.

On the second day she came down for dinner, to the acclaim of the whole family.

The Earl led her downstairs, her arm in his, and there were more little gifts by her plate. Peter smiled as if nothing untoward had happened between them.

For once the Count and Countess were not there, which Rona found a relief. She would not have to sit and watch Peter flirting outrageously with the beautiful Russian, and they could talk later.

The whole family seemed to have taken to her. They murmured approval as the Earl took her to sit beside him at the table, and watched in delight as she opened her gifts.

"That'll be you very soon," Peter told Alice, who was watching eagerly. "Unless I've got the dates wrong, you'll be seventeen next week."

"That's right," said Alice, smiling ecstatically.

"You'd better start thinking what you want for a present," said Peter, grinning back at her.

"There's only one present I want," said Alice. "To stay in Paris forever and ever. Oh Papa, can't we?"

"And what about our home in England?" the Earl reminded her wryly. "Surely you don't want to leave that 'forever and ever'?"

"No, we'll go back one day, but couldn't we stay for a while? Oh, please, Papa!"

"But why not?" asked Monsieur Thierre. "After such a long journey you must not go home too soon. You should at least stay long enough for Alice to spend her birthday here."

Everybody agreed that this was a good idea, especially Jacques and Edouard, who were almost at daggers drawn over Alice's charms. At last it was decided.

"What could I do but give in?" the Earl asked Rona a few moments later. "She wants to stay so much."

Rona smiled and agreed. But it had seemed to her that it was Peter who wanted to prolong their stay, and he had known just how to bring it about.

She decided to ask him about it after dinner.

But when the gentlemen joined the ladies there was no sign of Peter.

"He said he had business to attend to," said the Earl. "Which probably means a night's carousing."

"I thought Peter had virtually abandoned his old pursuits to pursue the Countess," quipped Monsieur Thierre in English.

Next to Alice young Cecile sighed. "I wish Papa wouldn't make jokes in English. He always checks afterwards to see if I understood, and then I get a lecture about working harder to learn English."

"My governesses used to lecture me about my French," said Alice sympathetically.

"Tables to learn by heart – " said Cecile at once.

"Verbs – "

"Adjectives – "

They regarded each other sympathetically.

Rona happened to be standing just behind them, and repeated the conversation to the Earl.

"Now they regard each other as sisters in suffering," she said, wryly. "And Alice realises that she isn't the only one."

"Am I imagining it, or is her French improving?"

"By leaps and bounds. Those two boys are her willing slaves, and it's doing more for her than all the lessons in the world. Poor lads."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because they're seventeen and eighteen. Next week's birthday will transform Alice."

"Ah yes, they'll look like children to her, won't they? And soon she'll be officially a debutante." He grinned. "As you say, poor lads."

"I want to talk to you about Alice," said Madame Thierre, appearing with coffee. "We would like to mark her birthday by giving a ball for her here."

"That's kind of you but there's no need, madame," said the Earl quickly. "After all, you were rather backed into a corner by my daughter."

"Not by her," Madame Thierre laughed. "It was Peter who wanted an excuse to stay in Paris and continue courting the lovely Emilia. I think it's so delightful, and we are happy to help him. Perhaps at the ball they'll make an announcement."

"It's about time he settled down and gave up his rackety way of life," the Earl agreed. "Not that Emilia is really a 'settling down' kind of woman. Clearly he's madly in love with her, and she'll lead him a merry dance."

Madame Thierre nodded.

"Between you and me I don't think he's gone carousing tonight at all – unless it's with Emilia."

They laughed together comfortably.

Rona turned away so that they couldn't see her face. Out of sight she was grinding her nails into her palms.

After that she could take no further pleasure in the evening.

If only he would return and she could speak to him.

Then, perhaps, her heart could be at ease.

She began to wish the night away and the morning to come.

But next day he had disappeared.

*

"He is a most extraordinary young man," Madame Thierre told the others over breakfast, "I came downstairs early this morning to find Peter waiting for me. He bade me a charming farewell and positively begged my forgiveness. Of course I told him no forgiveness was necessary and he could return whenever he pleased, as long as it's in time for Alice's ball."

"But will he?" asked Cecile.

Madame Thierre shrugged. "Who can say? We've known him for several years, and if there's one thing I've learned it's that you never know where and when he's going to appear next."

The Earl nodded. "My wife used to say he was like a Jack-In-The-Box," he said. "He was always where you least expected, vanishing without warning and returning in the nick of time.

"Take last week. He arrives in London, comes straight to my house only just in time to join us on this trip. A few hours later and he'd have missed us."

Hearing him say that, Rona had a strange feeling. She was sure now that Peter was Harlequin, which meant that he had been in London for at least a day longer than his brother in-law believed, since he had been at the Westminster ball.

Why should Peter have lied about such a thing?

And she remembered again how he had vanished when his friends tried to greet him at the ball. Like a man who was hiding something.

One moment he behaved as though he were drawn to her, just as she was to him. The next, he fled from her. Why had he acted like that in the garden, almost as though he hated her, only to send her a gift that she alone would understand? If she meant something to him, why did he behave like a moth to the Countess's flame, oblivious of any other woman?

Why had he suddenly disappeared, just when she wanted to confront him with the Harlequin figurine?

Or was that the reason?

"He'll turn up when he turns up," said the Earl. "He has lots of friends in France. He probably wanted to make sure he visited them all before we leave."

He eyed his daughter mischievously.

"Now, about this ball. You understand that I can't afford to spend any money on your gown. I'm sure Miss Johnson can find you something suitable in the clothes you have."

"
Papa!
" Alice almost screamed.

"Don't be a silly girl," Rona chided her. "Your Papa doesn't mean that. He's going to buy you a new pair of gloves."

Aghast, Alice looked from one to the other, while the rest of the family rocked with laughter.

"Of course you must have a new dress," said Madame Thierre. "Several new dresses, in fact. We shall go immediately to the Rue de la Paix, and stay there as long as necessary."

The gentlemen immediately thought of other things they needed to do, and in a short while the ladies were on their way.

Before he departed the Earl had spoken quietly to Rona, instructing her to spare no expense in fitting out his daughter.

"But don't tell her I said so," he warned, with a twinkle in his eyes, "or she'll be quite impossible."

"Don't worry," Rona agreed.

"Also, there is the question of your own attire," he said, seeming to become uneasy. "I know you're not an ordinary governess and you seem able to afford better clothes than most of them. Just the same, a ball given by the Thierres is going to be a very grand occasion, and you should be dressed like the other ladies. That being the case – " he seemed about to expire from embarrassment, "I think the purchase of your gown should be my responsibility."

"You are very kind, my Lord, but that cannot be," Rona said firmly.

"Please don't misunderstand me," he said awkwardly. "I didn't mean – what you think I meant."

Rona understood. A lady did not allow a gentleman to dress her unless she also allowed him to undress her. That was why no lady ever accepted an item of wearing apparel from a man. The only exception was between engaged couples, and even then it must be no more than a scarf or a handkerchief.

The Earl's idea was, therefore, outrageous, although she acquitted him of dishonourable intent. His miserable confusion testified to his honesty.