The Lion's Daughter (39 page)

There
was only a week in which to do it. Varian had heard the
pielago
had been repaired and was on its way
to Corfu. It could arrive any day now, if reports were to be
believed. He wasn't sure he could believe them. He had left the
captain more than enough money for repairs and paid a high price in
the first place. Furthermore, most of his and Percival's belongings
were still aboard. These factors might weigh for something. On the
other hand, he'd engaged the vessel for only a fortnight, not two
months, and its owner might easily decide the contract was fulfilled
and return to Italy.

Then
what?

Esme
stirred and mumbled, as though she felt his agitation. Varian kissed
her ear. “Sleep, love,” he whispered. “Just sleep.”

She
snuggled closer, her small backside warm against him. He looked at
her, then to the window again.

It
was just the sort of damp, dreary morning meant to be slept away. The
girl who'd driven him mad these two months and more lay safely in his
arms, as sweet and passionate a lover as any man could wish. This was
no time to brood on the future, Varian told himself. It was time to
savor the present, to lie at peace for once and enjoy his rare
happiness. He kissed her shoulder, then closed his eyes.

The
Fates allowed him one hour of semi-dozing tranquility. Then there was
the thumping of hurried footsteps and a louder thumping on the door.

“Drat
you, Percival. Can't a man
—”

“Oh,
please, sir, I'm so very sorry.” The boy's voice was abnormally
high-pitched.

“You'll
be a deal sorrier when I
—”

“Please,
sir. He's come. It's Papa!”

Chapter
22

FIFTEEN
FRANTIC MINUTES LATER, WASHED, haphazardly shaven, and dressed,
Varian escorted his bride to the parlor and presented her to her
uncle. Esme was very tens
e,
Varian knew, though the
inexperienced eye would have detected no more than aristocratic
reserve. Three weeks in Mrs. Enquith's company had simply given
polish to a young woman possessing sufficient natural pride for an
empress.

As
he politely accepted Sir Gerald's terse, rigidly polite
congratulations, Varian thought the business might pass smoothly
enough, so long as Esme kept her temper. This would not be easy. She
couldn't be pleased with the cool glance her uncle treated her to
before dismissing her from his mind as he returned his attention to
Varian.

Yet
Esme contained her indignation, just as she held her
longue,
and Varian silently vowed to kiss
her from the top of her head to the tip of her toes when this cursed
moment was over. Her future hinged on the interview. Sir Gerald must
be handled delicately, and that would require all Varian's presence
of mind.

Sir
Gerald, unfortunately, had no idea of delicacy. When he'd got through
the social niceties, he barged to the point. “I

can't
stay long. Press of business. You understand, Edenmont, I'm sure. I
only came to take the boy off your hands.” He bent a black look
upon his son. “Pack up your belongings, Percival
—
and
be quick about it.”

“N-now,
P-papa?”

“Surely
not now.” Esme put her arm about her cousin's thin shoulders.
“You have only just come, and
—”

“Percival—pack
! “

“Y-yes,
Papa.” The boy fled the room.

Varian's
face remained politely blank. “Certainly I would not wish to
keep you from business,” he began smoothly, “but—”

“You
won't keep me,” said Sir Gerald, just as smoothly. “Nor
the boy, either. I don't mean to let him out of my sight until we're
in England. And then not until he's safe in school, where he might
learn his duty at last at the end of a birch rod.”

“As
to duty
—”

“He
knew it was his duty to go with you to Venice, sir.”

'That
he did not was entirely my fault, as I explained in my letter.”

Sir
Gerald smiled coldly. “I won't call you a liar, my lord. You'd
feel obliged to call me out, and I'm not such a fool as to duel over
a boy's nonsense
—
even
if I believed in that medieval claptrap, which I don't. Nonetheless,
I know perfectly well it was no Italian who talked you into a cruise
across the Adriatic. It was that blasted child, his head stuffed with
his mother's sentimental twaddle.”

Varian
caught the blaze in Esme's eyes, but she saw his quick warning
glance, and said nothing.

“In
any case, events have come out happily enough,” Varian said,
his voice quite cool and easy. “Our detour brought me my lady
wife
...
your
niece.
An
occasion for celebration and forgiveness, I hope.”

Sir
Gerald shook his head. “You may hope all you like, Edenmont,
but the forgiveness you want isn't in my power to give. You want at
least ten thousand pounds of forgiveness if you hope to appease your
creditors.”

Varian's
spine went rigid.

The
baronet briskly continued, “I hope she brought you at least
that much dowry, my lord, because I don't see anywhere else on earth
you're to get it.”

The
rage these words sparked came so fast and furious that Varian
couldn't trust his tongue. While he was fighting for control, his
visitor turned his cold gaze upon Esme.

“Meaning
no offense,
my lady,
but
you know how family matters stand, even if your lord doesn't.”

“I
know well enough,” Esme answered icily. “I have told him
.
I have told him as well, that I
should sooner die than seek your charity.”

Annoyance
flickered in Sir Gerald's eyes, but he answered with false
amiability. “Properly and sensibly said. Because there's no
charity to be got, is there? Not in my mother's case.”

His
glance slid back to Varian. “Won't be moved, not she, not an
inch. Won't allow the matter to be mentioned. Tried, I did, countless
times. Especially after Percival was born. Thought a grandson would
soften her. She told me she'd cut the boy off without a groat if I
ever spoke my brother's name again.” He shook his head sadly.
“My hands are tied.”

He'd
certainly tied Varian's. “I see,” Varian said. “You
would like nothing better than the family's reconciliation. For your
son's sake, however, you dare not attempt it. Certainly, I should not
dream of asking you to do so. Esme and I are fond of Percival. We
should not wish to cause him difficulties. It would appear you've no
choice but to take him home yourself. Were my wife and I to accompany
him, his grandmama would take it ill, I collect.”

“Exactly,
my lord.” Sir Gerald rubbed his hands. “A regret-table
situation, indeed. Dirty linen and all that. So good of you to
understand.”

“I
understand,” Varian said, “quite well.”

ALI
GLARED AT the filthy beggar who stood before him. “Miserable
wretch,” he said. “The grief you've caused me. I should
let the lions make a breakfast of you. But my heart's loo soft. It
tells me you're not to blame that Allah gave you the brains of a
jackass.” He looked to Fejzi. “Yet this deluded fellow
thinks
he's
the
clever one and Ali the jackass. Because

I'm
old and sick, he thinks I'm blind and stupid as well. What say you,
Fejzi? What should be done with this faithless dog?”

“I
would not presume to advise your highness,” Fejzi answered.
“Yet it would appear die man should be fed
—
and
bathed
—
else
the lions will turn up their noses.”

“Then
go see about it,” Ali snapped. “And let me speak to this
dirty creature in private.”

Fejzi
silently withdrew.

As
Fejzi's footsteps faded away, Ali turned a reproachful gaze upon the
beggar. “I won't embrace you, Red Lion. I'm deeply offended.”

“I
suppose it's the stench,” Jason said. He dropped down to the
carpet and arranged himself, cross-legged, at the low table.
“Couldn't be helped. When one hunts rats, one must go among
them.” He calmly poured a cup of
kafe
for the Vizier, then another for
himself.

“You
might have let me hunt with you,” Ali grumbled. “But no.
How many years have we known each other? Yet in this, you couldn't
trust me.”

“This
was too personal. You've invested so much in your cousin. You'd great
plans for him.”

Ali
shrugged. “Ismal's an
ingrate.
A
European education he had. A
complete waste. He still thinks like a barbarian. It's a great pity,
with those looks and winning ways. He was formed by nature for
diplomacy. He could have made all the rulers of Europe weep for our
plight and aid us against the Turks. So much he could have done for
his people. He might have been a hero greater than Skanderbeg. It's
most disappointing. Where shall I find another such?”

“You've
risen above many disappointments, highness.”

“So
I have, and got my revenge as well.” Ali sipped his coffee and
smiled. “This particular revenge will be especially amusing.”

Jason
pushed his own cup away, untasted. “I won't ask. I've done what
I could to avert bloodshed. If you mean to strew the countryside with
dead bodies, I can't stop you.”

“Aye,
why don't you just drive your dagger into my heart while you're about
it? Twenty years and some
—
and
this is your opinion of my intelligence?” Ali gave a reproving
click of his tongue. “My cousin is confined to the finest
apartments

of
the Janina palace. He's gravely
ill. The physicians grieve because he's dying of love for the Red
Lion's daughter, and there's no cure. One physician is so low in
spirits I fear he'll die
soon after my cousin does.”

“The
one you've paid to poison him, I take it?” Jason asked, his
voice barely a whisper.

Ali's
silence was answer enough.

“It's
a pity,” Jason said after a moment. “A sad waste. Had
matters fallen out differently, I could have wished
...”
He trailed off, frowning.

“I
know what you wished. The same I wished, once. But I saw with my own
eyes, Red Lion. Your daughter gave her heart elsewhere.”

“Fejzi
tells me she wed the cur a week ago.” Jason's frown deepened.
“I'd no idea. I was at sea
—”

“That's
just as well,” Ali said quickly. “You needed your wits
about you. And you couldn't have interfered without risking your life
and those of many others.”

“
Someone
should have interfered. The man's
a
—”

“Whore.
Aye, so they say. But he's good-looking and strong. He'll give your
daughter tall, handsome sons. Even now, she may be carrying your
grandson.”

“Dear
God, I hope not.”

“A
grandson, Jason, who'll be an English lord one day.”

“And
a lot of good that'll do him
—
or
my daughter. What the devil's Edenmont to do with another mouth to
feed? Where's he going to keep her?
How's
he going to keep her?”

Ali
shrugged. “I offered him money to leave her here. He refused.
She ran away from him. He chased after her
—
even
risked his life, I'm told. He'll find a way to keep her, my friend.
Don't trouble yourself. When you meet him, you'll see I'
m
right.”

“When
I meet him,” Jason growled, “I'll thrash him within an
inch of his sorry life. I've more
than one score to settle with that worthless piece of aristocratic
depravity.”

“Then
you mean to pursue them. You mean to abandon me, Red Lion.”

“I'd
intended to leave when this business was finished.” “It's
not finished. You haven't told me who provided those ships.”

“I
don't know who provided them.” Jason looked the Vizier square
in the eye. “And if I did, I wouldn't
—”

“Highness,
a thousand pardons.” An ashen-faced Fejzi burst into the room
and threw himself at Ali's feet. “A message from Janina, most
urgent
—”

Jason
swore violently in English and leapt up.

Fejzi
winced. “Ismal
—”

“Yes,
yes,” Ali snapped. “He's escaped. Obviously. What other
urgent message from Janina would make you hurry your fat carcass so?”
He, too, rose, but slowly and painfully. “Only hurry to the
point. When did it happen, and which direction did my accursed cousin
take?”