The Mandarin of Mayfair (15 page)

Rossiter said, "Would that I knew
what
more! Skye really did come running up, sword in hand, but I'd have been cold meat by the time he arrived, I promise you. I recognized a couple of the scoundrels. They were with the ugly little lot who cornered me in Westminster soon after we came home in April. D'you recall, Jamie? They thought I'd got my hands on one of those damnable little Jewelled Men, and—"

"And they came near to putting a period to you!" Morris said grimly, "I remember all too well."

Sir Owen looked puzzled. "But—if they were the Squire's men, why on earth would they have drawn back from such a splendid opportunity to get rid of you?"

"I've not the least notion." Frowning, Rossiter said, "One thing's sure—whatever they're up to, it bodes no good for us."

Morris said thoughtfully, "It sounds as if old August was in the right of it, then. He said the men who attacked him were not—" He broke off, aghast. "Oh, Gad! I forgot! Your sister, Ross—"

"Gwendolyn?" Tensing, Rossiter demanded, "What about her?"

"Well, she was riding with Falcon an hour or so ago, when he was attacked, by—"

"What? "
Flushed with wrath, Rossiter leapt from his chair. "And you've been
sitting
here
chatting
, without telling—"

"He's telling you now, Gideon," Sir Owen interposed hurriedly. "She's quite safe, old fellow. Likely Jamie meant to break it to you gently, but—"

"Miss Gwendolyn shot Rafe Green," said Morris, ungently.

They both stared at him, speechless with astonishment.

"Sorry," he added simply. "Forgot."

"Pray do try one of"—Mrs. Dudley Falcon ducked her head and gasped as lightning lit the long windows of the large upstairs withdrawing room—"of these sugarplums, dearest Gwendolyn," she went on, holding out the box with a plump hand. "Now, you must not hesitate, for you need something to lift your spirits after such a dreadful experience as you suffered yesterday. I vow I was never more horrified than when August told me of it! I wonder you were able to visit your family today. My sweet niece is quite prostrated with the shock."

Gwendolyn had, in fact, been visited by both her brothers the previous afternoon. Their anxieties in her behalf had been dear and touching, but she had resisted all efforts to persuade her to return home, and had pleaded, truthfully, that Katrina was extremely shaken, and needed her. She had not felt it necessary to mention that if she went back to Rossiter Court she would be forbidden to proceed with certain Plans. Nor that part of Katrina's nervous state had to do with those same Plans. After Gideon and Newby had left, so that she could rest, a Bow Street Runner had arrived to prevent her doing so. She later discovered that August had pretended to fall into a coma when the officer refused to credit his identification of Rafe Green. She had done her best to assist the earnest minion of the law, however, after which she really had been able to rest. This morning she had taken breakfast with Katrina, gone for a drive with her brother Newby, and joined her family for luncheon at Rossiter Court. Her father was in the west country on some pressing matter concerning his shipyards, but she'd spent some time with her new sister-in-law, admiring the christening gown and the robes and bonnets, several of which she herself had sewn in preparation for the arrival of the new babe. The afternoon had flown by, and she'd stayed for dinner, returning to Falcon House only half an hour since to find Mrs. Dudley in the withdrawing room with her bosom-bow, Lady Hester Mount-Durward, and a pale and forlorn-looking Katrina.

Gwendolyn selected a sugarplum while Lady Hester, large of chin, girth, and wig, and grim as always, rumbled that Katrina was missish, always had been, and always would be. "Pretty," she acknowledged, appropriating the box and helping herself to a sugared almond. She waited out a crash of thunder, then added, "But lacks gumption."

Gwendolyn saw distress in Katrina's lovely face, and interposed swiftly, "So you have been able to chat with August, Mrs. Dudley?"

"But, of course, my dear! I fairly flew to his bedside as soon as I learned of the tragedy, and—"

Her ladyship put in a scornful, "Tragedy? Piffle!"

"—and found him pale and wan, dear boy. But so kind, Gwendolyn, for he had this lovely box of sweetmeats for me, and tied with a riband, so prettily. Now why should you look astonished? August is the most generous of men, and said this delicious gift was a token of his regret for having scared me with his naughty target practice yesterday."

"Took the blame, did he?" barked Lady Hester, fixing Gwendolyn with a stern stare. "Decent. For once."

"Come now, ma'am," protested Falcon, strolling to join them; "you'll give Miss Rossiter a bad opinion of me." He bent over the dowager's hand and touched it to his lips. "Here I've been striving to convince her of what a fine fellow I am."

She gave a bark of laughter. "If you have, you rascal, 'tis the first time in living memory you've done so! And there was not the need for you to leave your bed only to say your 'good evenings' to a neighbour!"

He chuckled and sat beside her, entering the conversation lightheartedly. No one would have guessed, thought Gwendolyn, that only yesterday morning he had taken a wound. If his arm pained him, he hid it admirably, and only the shadows under his eyes told her that he was not quite up to par.

Mrs. Dudley scolded him. He should not be jauntering about, she said, when the doctor had left firm orders he was to stay abed for at least five days.

"But I have to jaunter about," he argued with a smile. "Papa remains in Sussex, and do I not stand guard over my ladies," he glanced at his sister, "there is no knowing what mischief they may get up to."

Katrina's eyes fell and she blushed faintly.

Scanning her curiously, Lady Mount-Durward's lips parted.

Gwendolyn rushed into the breach in an attempt to turn attention from her friend. "I am so glad you feel well enough to join us, Mr. Falcon. I found a book in your library this morning that I have so wanted to show you. 'Tis the account of a Jesuit priest who was allowed to visit inside China, and he writes at length of the wonders he saw there, particularly with regard to their advances in medicine. I was sure you would find it interesting."

She knew that Katrina was staring at her, and that Mrs. Dudley had dropped the sugarplum she'd been about to pop into her mouth. August's eyes blazed, and the familiar tightening of his jaw told her he was angry. She thought defiantly, "Good! You deserved a set-down for sniping at your poor sister, wretched man!"

Before he could respond, Lady Mount-Durward said heartily, "Is that so, Falcon? Lud, but I'd not suspected you was interested in China. I must tell you I've a diary kept by my late great-uncle, who was a seafaring man. He was taken by Chinese pirates and has some tales you shall read! I'd have showed it to you long since, but I'd the impression you did not care to be reminded of that rather unfortunate part of your lineage—which would be understandable enough, heaven knows. Though I have never held it 'gainst you, as so many do. I knew your grandmama, you will be aware. Not that we were friends, of course, but…" Undaunted by a peal of thunder, she embarked on a long and patronizing monologue and for the next five minutes nobody else was able to say a word.

Mrs. Dudley looked increasingly nervous and shot anxious glances at her nephew's set smile.

Perfectly aware that a pair of glittering eyes from time to time hurled lances of fury in her direction, Gwendolyn maintained an expression of saintly innocence and appeared to hang on Lady Mount-Durward's every word. Actually, she was mortified. August had deserved the set-down she'd dealt him, but she had never intended to expose either him or Katrina to such lengthy and barbed condescension.

When Lady Hester was briefly silenced by a particularly ear-splitting peal of thunder, Falcon stood and bowed, shutting off her obvious intention to continue. "Jupiter, ma'am," he drawled, "but you have missed your calling. Your knowledge of my family would, I feel sure, qualify you as a lecturer, and likely enthrall anyone who had an interest in the subject." He stifled a yawn, and went on outrageously, "And I might have known you would appreciate our situation, since you have suffered another—ah, embarrassment in your own family."

Lady Mount-Durward glared at him, her countenance becoming alarmingly pink. She said in a voice that had reduced many a strong man to jelly, "I think I fail to take your meaning, Falcon."

Ignoring the imploring glances of his aunt and his sister, he raised his brows and said with exaggerated innocence, "No, have I perhaps been fobbed off with silly gossip? Alas, so many of the
haut ton
have not learned the simple good manners of keeping their noses in their own pockets. I was informed, ma'am, that your grandson, Thaddeus Briley, had earned your extreme displeasure by wedding a nobody, and a Scots nobody, at that." Unmoved by the lady's gobbling incoherencies, he lifted a hand and said sleepily, "I fancy most families have a cross to bear, but heaven forfend I should stamp where angels fear to tread. I will instead beg that you hold me excused, for I vow I'm quite fatigued by all this—er, excitement. Pray do not feel you must cease to enlighten Miss Rossiter, who will enjoy to hear any more snippets of—ah, information you can give her. As for me, I bid you goodnight, ma'am… ladies."

Another bow and he was gone, soon to be followed by her ladyship, flushed with wrath and unappeased by Mrs. Dudley's twittering attempts to pour oil on troubled waters.

"I will tell you to your head, ma'am," she declared loudly as she stamped to the door, "that your nephew is a rudesby, and deserves all that is said of him!" Her fury intensified by the awareness that she had been a good deal less than kind to her grandson's despised bride, she turned and added waspishly, "Handsome is as handsome does, but however August Falcon may try to ignore his heritage and pose as the complete British gentleman, he will never outrun his face, ma'am!
Never!"

Mrs. Dudley threw an anguished glance at Katrina and fluttered after her infuriated and influential friend.

Gwendolyn and Katrina, who had stood politely, looked at each other. Gwendolyn said remorsefully, "Trina, I am so sorry! I was cross because he threw that sly scold at you, but I am only a guest in your house and I should not have spoken so. My wretched tongue! Will you please forgive?"

"Of course, dearest." Katrina sighed. "You were not to know the horrid woman would pounce on it so. August and Thad, her grandson, are friends, but she has never forgiven my brother because her silly niece went into a decline over him. She knows perfectly well what his feelings are about—about our mixed blood, but I suppose she could not resist her tabby impulses."

"Perhaps, but she might not have scratched had I not given her the opening."

"You were only trying to defend me. August knows that, I am very sure, and will likely admire you for your loyalty, rather than blame you for her ladyship's unkind remarks."

Gwendolyn smiled, but before she could respond Mrs. Dudley came back into the room with agitated hands and a long and unflattering assessment of her nephew, who quite "bears off the palm" she declared, "for arrogance and a lack of consideration." Fortunately, the arrival of several of her friends lightened her mood. It was clear that the matrons were eager to gossip, and after a decent interval Katrina and Gwendolyn asked to be excused and left the ladies to enjoy the tale of August's vexatious behaviour.

Gwendolyn half expected to find the culprit lurking about on the stairs, ax in hand. There was no sign of him however, and after wishing Katrina a goodnight, she was only too glad to go early to her own bed.

Her abigail, a faded middle-aged French émigré named Paulette, fussed over her anxiously, recommending as she left that her "little mademoiselle enjoy the good sleep." Gwendolyn would have been pleased to do so; unfortunately, memories of yesterday's attack and of August's brilliant fight for life crowded her mind and when at last she was able to dismiss those thoughts there came others to plague her. He had been so pleased with her when she'd shot Mr. Green. She could only hope he would bear that in mind when next they met, for despite Katrina's reassurances she was very sure there would come a moment of retribution. She sighed and wished she could dismiss the recollection of the strong grip of his arms as he had swung her around, and the little blue flames that had danced in his eyes when he'd laughed down into her face… As she fell asleep she was bewildered to find that for no reason she could think of, she felt very tearful.

Hector Kadenworthy blinked and said mildly, "I understand your chagrin, August, but there's no call to snap my head off. Green is willing to reschedule your meeting."

Falcon jerked his whip savagely through his gloved hand and strode down the front steps toward the groom who was struggling to hold Andante. The morning was gray and there was a cold wind blowing. He glanced at the scurrying clouds and determined to be home before the rain started. "What excuse did he offer?"

"Seems to have fallen and suffered a sprained wrist. Can't expect the lout to fight with—"

"With a pistol ball in his arm?" Falcon gave a scornful bark of laughter then shouted, "Don't damage his mouth, fool!"

Kadenworthy stared at him. "What the devil's this? Green's man said—"

"Green's man lied. Dear Rafe and two bullies he scoured from the sewer did their damndest to put a period to me on Wednesday morning."

"And you shot him? Good Lord! Never say that was the incident in Bloomsbury Square? Everyone's talking of it, but there's been no clear description of the gentleman involved, and I'd heard the ruffian was shot by a lady."

"As you wish," said Falcon curtly, taking the reins and stroking the stallion's nose.

"He'll take your arm off if you're not careful," warned Kadenworthy, eyeing the big horse admiringly, but stepping back. "What d'you mean—As I wish?"

"You asked me not to say 'twas the incident in Bloomsbury Square." Falcon mounted in a lithe swing and held the black in with a sure hand. "I am all obedience."