Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 04] - Love's Duet (46 page)

Damon shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "There were some hedges,
you see, Ted. Clay's horse and I parted company—several times."

Vaille smiled thinly. "I noted that your arrival was— somewhat
precipitate. As well as being damn ridiculous. Your death scene,
especially."

Damon flushed. Ridgley sprang to his defence. "Ask me, it was dashed
spunky! If you had any feelings at all, Vaille— which you ain't—you'd
have some idea what it must've cost the boy to climb into that saddle!
And as for—"

"Any man," Vaille sneered, "who rides a horse between two individuals aiming loaded pistols at one another is a blasted fool."

"Yet you are both alive," Damon murmured.

"And you, sir," the Duke snapped, "interfered in a matter of honour which—"

"Which had no business taking place at all!" And having interrupted
his sire in this daring fashion, Damon stood. He moved slowly and
painfully, yet—somehow he seemed taller. "If you will permit me, sir—I
shall explain."

Ridgley watched him in considerable astonishment. Vaille, his face
thunderous, closed his mouth, but those blue eyes surveyed his heir
with blazing anger.

"I have," Damon said quietly, "remembered that whole lost week, nineteen years ago."

All traces of colour faded from Vaille's face, and he sank into the nearest chair.

"Good… God!" Ridgley gasped. "Cam—you've taken the devil of a beating. Are you sure?"

Damon sat down again. "I'm quite sure." He gazed at the fire. "Once
I was on that bay, I was too petrified to do any more than point him in
the right direction and hang on. But then… gradually, it began to come
back to me. And so clearly that I can picture it as if it was
yesterday… I'd gone to Mama's bedchamber that morning to wait for her."
He slanted a quick look at Vaille. "You were both in the music room,
and I could hear you arguing." The Duke winced, put a hand across his
brow, and waited in silence. "You were quarrelling," Damon went on,
"about me going away to school. I remember that I didn't want to go. I
knew the other boys would mock me because… I am a cripple. When Mama
came upstairs, she was weeping." His eyes returned to their
preoccupation with the flames, and he murmured, low-voiced, "I can even
recall that she wore a pale-blue gown and how very beautiful she looked
when she called me over to her. She held my hands, and she said that if
I went to school, you would find out… about me. And we would both be
sent back to France…"

Ridgley swore under his breath, stalked to the window, and stood
staring out at the rain. Vaille's eyes closed very briefly, his head
bowed, his hands fastening like claws on to each arm of his chair.

Damon was aware of none of this, seeing only that elegant bedchamber
and the lovely woman, now so clear in his mind's eye. He had tried to
comfort her, and she'd gathered him into her arms and had said in
French in her soft, pretty fashion, "I am going to do what Cousin
Edward wishes, Camille. He has a good friend who is also very clever.
He is going to make your foot well again so that your Papa will be
proud of you, and you can go to school like other boys and play the
cricket, and he will not be angry with us anymore. You must be very
brave because it will hurt quite badly. But you will never again have
to wear that horrid shoe. You will walk easily— straight and proud. Do
you think you can do that, my dear, brave son?"

He had assured her that he could do it as easily as the cat could
flick her tail. Mama had dried her tears, kissed him, and summoned her
abigails, and they had begun to pack for their sudden journey.

Through the breathless quiet, Damon looked up and said, "And that,
Papa—is why she was leaving you… Only to take me… to have surgery done."

"B-but…" gasped Vaille, "I thought… Did she say… anything to you—?"

"She said that you were the most valiant gentleman she had ever
known and that—no matter what it cost, we must never… either of us…
fail you—or—or make you ashamed of us." A groan was torn from his
father, and he went on hurriedly. "She said that Ted was ever dear to
her heart because he loved us both and was trying to help—even though
she would not do as he wished and tell you—about my foot."

"Oh…my…God!" cried Vaille. "Ted—
why
did you not tell me? You damned
idiot
!All these years!"

"Couldn't," Ridgley said in a husky, shaken voice. "Deathbed
promise, y'see, Vaille. The dear soul was in a coma for two days,
but—just before the end, she roused a little. She made me promise never
to tell you—so that you would not remember her… with disgust."

A strangled sound escaped Vaille. Damon was aghast to see tears on
his father's cheeks, and then the Duke swung away from them and,
stumbling to the fireplace, leaned there, head bowed upon one hand.
After a minute or two, he said hoarsely, "It would appear… that I owe
you a—most profound apology, Ted. She was not… running away from me,
after all."

"Not with me, at all events," said Ridgley. "Though I'll admit I would have been the happiest man in the world if she had."

"No," Vaille argued. "I do not believe you would have run off with
her—even had she gone to you. Not—loving her, as much as you did." His
tearful eyes fell. He drew something from his pocket and, staring down
at it, said brokenly, "I am ashamed to say that I had intended… to
throw this in your face—after you'd fallen. Now—" He lifted his head
and, his face working, held out the locket. "You may have it. It
probably means as much to you… as it would to me."

Ridgley stared down at it in puzzlement.

"It means nothing to Ted,
Mon
—er—sir." Damon stood and
added softly, "He's never seen it before." Vaille's shocked glance
flashed to him, and he explained, "Bodwin bought it when I was so
stupid as to sell it with—all the rest. He had the miniatures painted
purely to provoke you two into killing one another!"

Ridgley, having opened the back, gave a gasping cry and, looking at Vaille, said, "By thunder! So this is why… ?"

"Damn his twisted soul!" Vaille's face was a study in hatred. "And I
almost fulfilled his hopes!" He brightened suddenly. "Then—Ninon had
not
forsaken me!"

Damon said, "You were her world, sir. She loved you to the moment she died."

Wordlessly, Vaille again turned away. Ridgley, still staring down at the locket, wandered toward the door.

Vaille glanced round. "Edward!"

Ridgley stopped but did not turn.

Vaille came up behind him. "We came damned close to killing one
another today. I know—it was all my fault. That my curst…pride. My—as
you've said so often—my—
mania
for perfection… caused the entire tragedy. I… don't know if I can change, Ted. But… I could try." His voice petered out.

Damon, watching breathlessly, wondered if this grieving, humble man
could possibly be his proud father. Ridgley neither moved nor spoke.
Vaille sighed, started to move away, then stopped again.

"Edward," he pleaded, "I'd have you know… that I always—" He checked
and stepped closer, his gaze sharpening. A small loose thread hung from
the back of Ridgley's jacket.

Vaille frowned a little and pulled at it. Unhappily, it gathered
before it broke, opening a gap in the arm hole. Vaille gave a guilty
gasp and drew back. Damon shook his head in a mixture of mirth,
affection, and incredulity.

Ridgley swung about, clapping a hand to his shoulder, his face
flushing with irritation. "Damme, Philip! If that ain't just like you!
Tidying me up when you're supposed to be down on your infernal knees,
grovelling an apology!"

Recovering himself, Vaille drew an impatient sleeve across his face. "I
am
apologizing, blast your eyes! Are you going to accept it or not?"

They glared at one another.

"What amazes me," murmured Damon, "is that you stood twenty paces apart—crack shots—and could not so much as graze my horse!"

Two angry faces suddenly became very red. Vaille looked away. Ridgley said, "Well… It was… Ah… humph!"

"The one who should really be cursing and stamping about"—Damon
nodded—"is me! What I went through: wallowing in mud, being tossed
around on that blasted nag's back, thinking of you killing one another…
Did you both intend to delope?"

"Certainly not," said Vaille haughtily. "I chanced to see you at the last instant and was able to swing my pistol aside."

"I see. And you, Ted? Did you also swing your pistol aside because of me?"

"Well…" stumbled the Earl unhappily. "I—er—that is to say…"

"You… swine!" raged Vaille. "You'd have stood there like a blasted
martyr and let me kill you! How the devil d'you suppose that would have
made me feel?"

Amused by this rather quaint reasoning, Damon grinned.

Ridgley, however, hung his head. "When the time came… I just couldn't bring m'self to aim…"

For a moment there was a deep silence. Then Vaille leapt forward,
seized Ridgley's right hand, clasped it within both his own, and
pumping it up and down, cried, "Damn you, Ted! You
shall
shake my hand!"

Ridgley broke into a deep, glad laugh. "I shall, by gad!" He clapped
his free hand on Vaille's shoulder. "Like old times, eh, Phil?"

"Yes," said Vaille gruffly, "like old times!"

The Earl beamed on him. Vaille blinked mistily. "I'll go and call up our vehicles," said Ridgley.

"We'll return together," said Vaille. "If you please, Ted."

"Aye, aye, sir," grinned Ridgley, and took himself off.

For a moment, the Duke stared after his cousin. When he turned, his
pleasant smile was gone. "Well," he said bleakly, "what do you expect
of me, Damon?"

Damon's nerves tightened. "Nothing, sir. You do not have to—"

"To acknowledge publicly my… crippled son?"

A knife turned in Damon's heart, but his chin lifted. "I know it
must cause you humiliation. And I am, indeed, sorry. But—I will not
hide it any—"

"
Sorry
—are you!" The blue eyes fairly sparked. "By God, how
noble! I was angered with Ridgley for near twenty years and find my
anger was unwarranted! In your case, I am fully justified! And fiend
take you, Damon! I may
never
forgive you!" He took a step towards his son, and the Marquis blinked and retreated. "How
dared
you?" Vaille went on in a quiet voice more deadly than the loudest shouting. "How
dared
you imagine that I would be offended by such a trite affliction? Or by
any
affliction in my own son! How
dared
you think I would view you with any less fondness—or give a hoot in hell what others thought!"

Damon's heart began to quicken. His eyes searched that handsome face eagerly.

"When I think," Vaille snarled, "of all the years I have longed to
have you beside me! Of all the misery to which I have been subjected
purely because of what others laid to
my
pride—never admitting their own! Well, sir? Never stand there like a deaf mute! What have you to say for yourself?"

"But… but…" stammered Damon, "I always thought… I believed…But, father, I—"

"
What
did you call me?" thundered Vaille.

"Father—sir."

"You was used to coin another name."

"Yes." said Damon apologetically. "And I know you—"

"Say it!" Vaille scowled.

Wonderingly, Damon said, "
Mon…Père
?"

Vaille, his smile suddenly tender, said, "By Jove, Camille, I do rather like the sound of that—after all!"

He held out his arms and, in a most undignified manner, clasped his son to his heart.

"Took us half an hour to catch some of those blasted hacks!" grumbled Clay.

Whitthurst, drinking hot coffee with much pleasure, his scorched
self deposited in a fireside chair in the pleasant parlour of "The
Oaken Bucket," nodded. "Whole damn barn full of horses one minute. Not
a nag for miles the next…" His words trailed off, and he paused, his
thoughts turning back to the thundering charge of those maddened
animals and Damon lying helpless in their path.

The three young men exchanged grim glances, noting which the Duke
frowned, and the hand he leaned on the mantle tightened into a fist.

"Well, I'm glad you came up with us," Damon smiled.

"And I'm relieved your—er—problems are so happily resolved," said Clay, with a sidelong glance at Vaille.

"So I'm become a problem, am I?" the Duke retorted. "Well, problem or no, I am forever in your—"

The door burst open, and Charlotte Hilby rushed into the room, her
face pale and hunted looking, her cloak swirling out behind her.
Oblivious of all but the Duke, she cried tragically, "Philip! Oh, my
darling—I bring the most ghastly news! Poor Camille has been—" She
broke off, her eyes widening as the Marquis' stood and faced her.
Vaille jumped forward, caught her as she swayed, and half carried her
to the sofa.

Clay raced to the door and shouted, "Brandy! Quick!"

Seating himself beside the beauty, Vaille gathered her into his arms and said, "My dearest girl, whatever has happened now?"

And when Miss Hilby had sipped a little of the potent brandy,
coughed, and a trace of colour had crept back into her cheeks, she
gasped, "I had gone…to Cancrizans to beg Camille's aid in the matter of
this senseless… duel." Again, she stopped, her frantic eyes searching
Vaille's calm face.

"There will be no duel, my love," he reassured her. Surprised by
such a public term of endearment, she glanced swiftly at the others
present. "I have been a very great fool," the Duke went on. "Indeed,
why you have borne with me is more than I can understand. But—unless
the prospect of becoming a Duchess displeases you—you and I have much
to plan…"

Her eyes widened joyously. A flush brightened her lovely face.
Disregarding the others, Vaille raised her hand and kissed it with
betraying tenderness. Charlotte swayed closer, touching his cheek, her
eyes adoring. Ridgley's embarrassed cough recalled her to the present,
and she cried, "Oh! What a henwit I am! Camille—you must go at once!
Phineas Bodwin sent one of his grooms to warn us you had stopped at the
spa and been caught in a flash fire in the barn! We mourned you as
dead!"