Time's Fool (10 page)

“They didn't waste no time in letting
'im
dahn, guv'nor.” Tummet reached for another piece of toast. “I dunno the whole lot, mind, but from what I 'eard, some o' the richest gents as 'ad funds in Rossiter Bank, drawed out every last groat, the night 'fore the scandal got known. Dirty, I calls it. Proper dirty.”

“My … God…,” breathed Rossiter, leaning back in his chair and staring blindly at the bowl of mustard.

“If you don't mind my asking, Ross,” said Morris. “Who —er, were they?”

Rossiter drew a hand across his eyes. “I don't know all of them. My father and I disagreed on business matters and my interests were more with the shipyards. I wish to heaven I'd—” He caught himself up and added, “Norberly was one. And Derrydene. And some others, to a lesser extent, I think.”

The lieutenant's honest hazel eyes grew round with astonishment. “What, Lord Norberly and Sir Louis Derrydene? Damme! I can scarce credit it! They're
very
fine gentlemen.”

Rossiter jerked upright in his chair and glared fiercely at him. “My father is a fine gentlemen too, I'll have you know!”

“Oh, I've not—not the least doubt of it,” stammered Morris, dismayed. “I meant no—That is, I only mean—well, one would think they were not the type one would find mixed up in—”

“Mixed up in—
what,
pray?” snarled Rossiter, a flush of anger on his thin face. “Embezzlement, perchance?”

Tummet said soothingly, “Now, now. Be easy, gents. Don't go getting all warm round the perishing ear 'oles.”

Rossiter stood, fists clenched and eyes blazing. “I would like an explanation, if you please, Lieutenant.”

“Hello…? Is anyone about…?”

The three men stared speechlessly at one another as the gruff male voice rang from the direction of the front hall.

“'Ere,” said Tummet, heaving himself from his chair with a scared look. “I'd best go and find out who's come to pay me a morning call.” He ran out, then stuck his head around the door and hissed, “You gents better get ready to 'op 'orf. Quick-like!” He vanished from sight.

Morris said urgently, “I'll go and collect my things.”

“Afraid to be seen with me?” sneered Rossiter.

“Don't be such a gudgeon.” Considerably irritated, Morris stamped along the hall to the rear servants stairs.

Tummet ran back into the kitchen, his brown eyes very round. “A lady's come calling, Cap'n,” he wheezed. “But not fer me, more's the pity! 'Er groom says it's you as she's looking fer. A Lady Naomi Lutonville! Cor! Whatta piece of toast!”

CHAPTER FIVE

So she had come! Rossiter's heavy heart gave a leap. “Glory, glory!” he whispered, and ran for the door.

Lady Lutonville was sitting in the Great Hall, a riding crop in her hand. She came to her feet as Rossiter entered, and faced him in silence. He paused for a moment, staring, trying to equate this poised and bewitchingly lovely creature with the shy girl he had left behind so long ago.

She watched him unsmilingly, her head very high, her firm chin tilted upward. Her riding habit was of a dark green that made her fair skin look almost translucent, and white lace gleamed at her throat and wrists. A broad-brimmed green hat, one side turned up and decorated with a sweeping white feather, was set upon her powdered hair, and thick ringlets had been pulled into a cluster below her left ear. Her beauty was not as exotic as that of Miss Falcon, but he found her delicate little nose adorable, the moulding of her face superb, her mouth sweetly curved and very kissable, the slim but well-rounded shape of her exactly as he had dreamed. The top of her proud head reached to his ear, just as it should. She was the personification of his gentle lady from Tranquillity Terrace, only inestimably more perfect.

“Naomi!” Hands outstretched, he started eagerly towards her.

She sank into a deep curtsy. “How kind in you to recognize me today, Captain Rossiter.”

There was a mocking edge to her voice, a hauteur to her manner, and after one disdainful glance at his hands, she ignored them.

She had as well have thrown a jug of cold water in his face, and Rossiter halted, and stood motionless.

“Faith,” she said with a brittle laugh, “I cannot wonder at your surprise. 'Tis most improper for a single lady to call at the home of a bachelor. Particularly”—a spark came into those great green eyes—“after he has brutalised her.”

Brutalised…
? Bewildered, he said, “What—on earth—?”

“So you did not recognize me after all. Yesterday evening, sir. The hold-up.”

“Good God!
You
were the silly chit who—?” He cut the words off quickly, but not quickly enough.

Naomi's lips tightened, and anger deepened the colour in her cheeks. “A true gentleman, sir, might have found it in his heart to show some compassion to a lady in distress, rather than reviling her.”

How coldly she spoke, with no least vestige of affection. And what an ironic twist of fate, that of all the women in the world, it had to be his dream wife he had handled so shabbily! Forgetting her infuriating obstinacy, he could think only of how impatiently he had tossed her into the carriage, and, dismayed, he stammered, “I did not mean—That is, I would not for the world—Oh, Lord, Naomi! I wish you will believe—”

“La, what vehemence,” she interpolated with a bored shrug. “And it is, after all, of
peu d'importance,
” From the corner of her eye she saw him stiffen. Concentrating on straightening the cuff of her glove, she added, “Nor did I come here for an apology, sir.”

“I had thought perhaps you came to offer one,” he said quietly.

“I!”
Outraged, she frowned at him.

He stepped closer. “The reception I was accorded at the Manor was not what a man might expect when calling on his betrothed. I realize we have been long apart, but we
are
betrothed—or so I believed.”

How sincere and earnest he managed to appear! She yearned to scratch him, but there were more deadly things than scratches. And so she laughed, soft and liltingly, and had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. “Are we? Lud, I must have forgot! But never think you were quite out of our thoughts. Rumours
do
manage to drift back to England. Sooner or later.”

She “must have forgot…” Gideon took a steadying breath. “And you began to forget—when, my lady? Five minutes after you left London? Or was it only after you became a Toast? Rumours reach Holland also, you see, and your reputation has provided many a rank joke over slopping tankards in verminous alehouses.”

Quivering with wrath, she half-whispered, “How
dare
you?”

He gripped her wrist, and jerking her close, said through his teeth, “I dare because I fought the man who said you had been seen leaving Lord Wellby's house unchaperoned at two in the morning! I knocked down the newspaper writer who named you hoyden for galloping your horse along St. James' and scattering a herd of cows, causing a fine uproar. Like a fool I believed none of the gossip from Italy, but dreamed only of coming home; of finding you at last, and starting the life we had planned together.” Sadness came into his grey eyes. He added slowly, “I had such hopes … such wonderful plans to share with my little meadow sprite…”

It was the name he had called her when she was a worshipful sixteen and he a magnificent twenty-two. Naomi had to look away.

So intent were they upon their quarrel that they had failed to hear Lieutenant Morris, who came down the main stairs pulling on his gauntlets and humming to himself. He saw them, heard Rossiter's last few words, and froze, then started to turn about. The stair creaked under his foot. In an agony of embarrassment he checked again, dreading lest he be discovered and judged to have been listening.

Rossiter's entire attention was on Naomi. Perhaps she was simply overwrought … In years past he had always been able to win her from anger or sadness. He said gently, “My dear, I am very sorry. I know I've handled this badly. An you will but listen…”

Although she said nothing, it seemed to him that she swayed to him a little. Releasing her wrist, he tried to see her face, but it was concealed by the brim of her hat. Carefully, he removed the offending article. She raised no objection, and he drew her closer and touched her averted cheek. “I should not have said such things. Forgive me, I beg you. Rumour is such a vicious thing, Naomi. We must not let it come between us and destroy all our dreams.”

She said in a voice that trembled, “It—has been so long, Gideon.”

“Yes, beloved. But a whole glorious future stretches before us. I will try very hard to make you happy always. I swear it.”

Her head was bowed still, but one hand crept up to rest on his cravat. “When I had no word from you, I thought perhaps … you had found—another love.”

“What rubbish! You are the only lady I ever have, or ever will love. I thought you knew that!”

Burying her face against his chest she said a muffled, “Then you always meant to—to come back to me?”

“Be assured of it! These six years I have counted the moments 'til I can call you Mrs. Gideon Rossiter.” It was going to be all right, after all! Blissfully enveloped in a glow of happiness, he pressed his cheek against her fragrant hair. “My Naomi,” he murmured. “Did you but know how I have longed to hold you like this! How very much I worship—”

And he stopped, because she was laughing.

Lifting her head she revealed a merry countenance. “Oh,” she gasped. “How very well you do it, Captain! My apologies. I should not laugh, I know. But did you think word of your liaison with your little Dutch—er, lady would not reach our ears?”

Stunned, he corrected, “Belgian. I fancy I deserved that. But—”

“Lud, dear sir, you must not fancy I mean to chastise you. Ladies only pretend to be blind to these little
affaires,
you know. And one cannot expect gentlemen—especially military gentlemen—to be saints. Though,” she waved her whip under his nose reprovingly, “it
was
rather naughty in you to abandon the poor lady with—'tis a little girl … no?”

His hands clenched. He said tautly, “No. A boy and two girls. A set of twins this year, you see.”

For a moment her eyes were very wide, but she made a fast recover, and, pouting, said rather breathlessly, “Out upon you, sirrah! You spoil Papa's scenario. He wagered you would have a thousand excuses, and swear to me that the talk was all lies, and you loved only me.” Again, her rippling laugh rang out. She turned away, and said, “You will think me a perfect quiz, but I told him that since you had not come nor sent any word, you must surely have been wounded.” From under the dark screen of her lashes, she watched him intently. “I even sent a friend to enquire of Sir Mark if your Commanding Officer had been in touch with him.”

Rossiter took a slow breath. His pride again! His damnable pride that had rushed him into the army in the first place, then forbidden that his father be notified of the likelihood of his death!

He said, “No doubt the earl told you what the answer would be; that my father had heard nothing.”

“Oh, yes, and he thought me such a great silly, and said I must be prepared lest you should claim you
had
been brought down, and use it as an excuse for having stayed with your
chère
—or is it
chères
?
amies.
”

Rossiter looked at her innocent face steadily, and she trilled, “La, la! But I have angered the gentleman once more! Did I perchance spoil some carefully planned little speech? I shall make amends.” She dimpled, and fluttered her eyelashes at him, then said with exaggerated naivete, “You are so much changed, Captain Rossiter. Did army life not agree with you?”

Gideon flushed, and his nails dug into the palms of his hands. How contemptuous she was; how willing to believe the worst of him. His Achilles heel mastered him yet again, and all prideful hauteur he drawled, “'Tis a life of many facets, ma'am. But, alas, I have no palliative speeches for you.”

“Palliative,” she echoed musingly, patting her firm little chin with her riding crop. “Such a big word, and I but a simple girl. Could it perchance mean … begging forgiveness?” On the last word her lovely eyes, hard and scornful now, met his squarely.

He suggested, “Perhaps you should discover the meaning from your papa, ma'am, since you rely so heavily on his wisdom.”

She nodded. “In truth, he is exceeding shrewd, my dear Papa. You will scarce believe, but only last month he predicted that due to recent—er, events, you would now come racing home. That you would assure me your sudden return had nothing, but
nothing
to do with the fact that your father has been so silly as to ruin himself, so that 'tis vital you secure a rich wife!”

At this, a gasp escaped him. For an instant the hurt was so intense as to be a physical pain. Then, something inside him seemed to turn to ice.

With infinite care, Morris had been tiptoeing back up the stairs. At this point, having reached the landing, he gave a muffled groan of relief, and crept from earshot, still unobserved by the two people in the hall.

Naomi's eyes were glittering—with malice, no doubt, thought Rossiter. Yet even now she was so heart-rendingly beautiful. And so very far removed from her counterpart in Tranquillity Terrace. Determined not to let her see how deeply she had wounded him, he managed somehow to say coldly, “You are vulgar. But then, as you said—no respectable single lady would call at the home of a bachelor.”

She started a furious rejoinder, then closed her lips and walked a few paces away. With a little giggle, she spun around and said brightly, “
Touché.
And I must not forget the reason for my call. It is that I have lost quite a valuable antique chess piece. 'Twas accidentally broken, and my father had sent it away to be repaired. I collected it from the jeweller in Stour Street yesterday.”