Parfit Knight

by Riley, Stella

  He said haltingly, ‘Too straight, perhaps. I – you won’t believe it, I daresay – but I never wanted to kill you.’

  ‘No.’ The Marquis smiled hazily. ‘I know you didn’t. If I’d thought you did, I don’t suppose I should have deloped.’

  ‘Would you not?’ asked the Duke sweetly.

  ‘Leave it, Rock,’ came the laconic reply.

  Philip cast a doubtful glance at his Grace and then looked back at Amberley.

  ‘Why did you delope?’ he asked bluntly.

  The Marquis winced as the doctor began to bind his arm and said unevenly, ‘It’s usually considered an acknowledgement of fault.’

  ‘I know. But I don’t think that’s why you did it.’

  A tinge of colour stole into the bloodless cheek. ‘No.’

  ‘Then why?’ persisted Philip. ‘I think I’ve a right to know.’

  ‘Very true,’ agreed Rockliffe smoothly. ‘And since Dominic is too shy to tell you himself … ‘

  ‘No – damn it!’ The Marquis struggled to get to his feet only to be pushed back by the Duke’s hand. ‘You don’t know why – ‘

  ‘Not entirely, perhaps,’ agreed his Grace. ‘But, having been acquainted with you for some sixteen years or so, I think I have a tolerable idea of how your mind works. And, if I am wrong, you can always correct me, can you not?’

  Amberley set his jaw and said nothing. Indeed, there was nothing he could say that was likely to stop his bloody annoying friend saying things he had no doubt he’d much prefer were left unsaid.

  Rockliffe turned his heavy-lidded gaze on Lord Philip.

  ‘It may come as a surprise to you,’ he said lazily, ‘but my lord Marquis is possessed of a certain crude ability with firearms and could, I believe, have put a bullet through any part of you he chose. Possibly he would attribute this to the fact that he was not a grenadier but a hussar.’

  Philip shot a surprised look at the Marquis. ‘Were you?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Amberley tonelessly. He did not look up but confined his attention to the task of carefully rolling his blood-soaked shirt-sleeve down over his arm.

  Rockliffe smiled faintly and went on, ‘He also, for some reason which I cannot quite grasp, was convinced that he was in no danger from you; and so, because he has some inexplicable notion that he owes you something – but more because he happens to be very much in love with your sister – he decided to forgo his options on your person and delope. Anyone else,’ he concluded tolerantly, ‘would have been content simply to shoot wide. But I suppose everyone is entitled to one vanity.’

  ‘Have you quite finished?’ demanded the Marquis glacially, rising unsteadily to his feet. ‘Or do you want to add that I like dogs and am kind to my aged mother?’

  ‘Thank you, no,’ mocked his Grace. ‘I am merely waiting to hear you deny any part of what I have said.’

  There was a long dangerous silence and then Amberley bent to retrieve his ruined coat.

  ‘I’m going home,’ he said with audible restraint. ‘Will you drive me – or shall I ask Harry?’

  ~ * * * ~

  SIXTEEN

  Rosalind’s second day of solitude was an ironic travesty of her first – for where, yesterday, she had avoided her brother in order to think, she now wished for his presence the better not to do so. But the hours dragged slowly by and Philip showed no sign of returning; and when, at around five o’clock, she received word that his lordship would be dining at his club, she smiled wryly and reflected that she was merely being repaid in her own coin.

  She was on the point of retiring to her room in the listless expectation of passing another sleepless night when the pealing of the doorbell and sounds of commotion in the hall brought a painful resurgence of hope that tensed her nerves and stopped her breath. Then the door was thrown open, she heard a flurry of taffeta and Isabel’s voice sharply questioning; and bitter disappointment washed over her with the savagery of a tidal wave. She bent her head, arms folded tight over the actual physical pain inside her and tried to swallow the sudden, choking sobs that crowded into her throat.

  Isabel saw the anguish in every line of that hunched figure but, already too anxious to be touched by it, she cast aside her loo-mask and fan and, oblivious of the danger to her ruffled ballgown, knelt swiftly at Rosalind’s side.

  ‘Rose!’ she said urgently, shaking the other girl’s arm. ‘This is important. Where is Philip?’

  Very slowly, Rosalind lifted her head. ‘At White’s,’ she said dully. ‘Someone is with you.’

  ‘Yes – Robert. We were at the Anstey’s masked ball – and still are as far as Mama is concerned,’ came the rapid reply. ‘But I had to know if it was true so I made Bob bring me here. You needn’t mind him. Have you spoken with Philip today?’

  ‘No.’ Rosalind made an effort to concentrate. ‘If what is true?’

  Isabel’s hands fell away and she stood up.

  ‘That he is to fight Amberley. Everyone is talking of it. They say he challenged him last night. He’s said nothing to you?’

  The pit of Rosalind’s stomach fell away with a sickening lurch and for a moment she felt too sick to reply. Then, in an odd voice, she said, ‘No. He went out this morning with Harry Caversham and hasn’t been back since. We didn’t even take breakfast together.’ Then the implications of this dawned on her and she drew a long ragged breath. ‘Oh God, no – he couldn’t!’

  Irritated by the ease with which they ignored him, Robert strolled across to the fire saying flippantly, ‘Well, it sounds to me as though he has. Ansford said that Caversham was to be Phil’s second and, since everyone knows of it, I daresay they wanted to get it over as quickly as possible.’ He grinned at Broody dozing quietly on his perch and added brightly, ‘Only think! Amberley may be dead by now – and all because of a damned parrot!’

  ‘Be quiet,’ snapped Isabel, her usually gentle voice harsh with strain.

  Gripping her hands together, Rosalind continued to behave as though Robert did not exist.

  ‘What does he mean?’ she asked tensely. ‘They can’t have quarrelled about Broody!’

  ‘They didn’t,’ replied Isabel briefly. ‘Or, at least, I don’t think so. I think they quarrelled over you and, perhaps, a little because of something foolish I said to Philip yesterday. But they couldn’t do it openly so they had to have an excuse. Gentlemen,’ she finished sardonically, ‘are very finicky about things like that. And, as excuses go, this one is superb because everyone thinks it a huge joke.’

  ‘Do they indeed?’ Rosalind was extremely pale and her hands were by no means steady but her voice had recovered its tone. ‘Well, I don’t. I think it’s stupid and dangerous. Pull the bell.’

  Startled, Isabel did so. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Find out what’s going on,’ replied Rosalind curtly. And then, as the door opened, ‘Porson?’

  ‘Yes, madam?’ The butler bowed.

  ‘I wish you to send a message to White’s asking my brother to return here immediately,’ she said crisply. ‘Immediately, you understand?’

  ‘Yes, madam.’ Another bow and he was gone.

  Isabel sank weakly into a chair but before she could speak, Robert said petulantly, ‘Well, if you think I’m going to hang around waiting for Vernon to come back, you much mistake the matter. You can either come with me now, Bella – or else get your precious Philip to escort you. What’s it to be?’

  ‘I’m not going until I’ve seen Philip,’ said his sister flatly. ‘And you can’t return to the ball without me.’

  ‘You think not?’ He gave a short laugh and walked towards the door. ‘Just watch me.’

  Rosalind waited until she heard his hand on the latch and then said gently, ‘It’s entirely your decision, of course – but if I were you, I think I’d stay and guard my rear.’

  He swung to face her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means,’ she replied dulcetly, ‘that, if you leave, I probably won’t be able to
resist telling Isabel exactly what happened at Vauxhall.’

  It was checkmate and, for once, Robert had the sense to realise it. He said sulkily, ‘Very well. Since you’re so eager for my company, I’ll stay.’

  Rosalind’s tone lost every vestige of sweetness.

  ‘As far as I am concerned, Mr Dacre, both you and your manners belong in the nursery. You will stay in order to escort Isabel back to Anstey House and for no other reason – and, if you have any intelligence at all, you will sit down and refrain from furnishing us with further examples of your spite, your rudeness and your immaturity. I assure you that we know them only too well.’

  Never, in all his twenty years, had anyone spoken to Robert like that and, furiously, he made the mistake of saying so.

  ‘That is a great pity,’ retorted Rosalind coldly. ‘If they had done so sooner, you might have stood some chance of becoming a man. As it is, you’ll be hanging on to coat-tails and apron-strings all your life because you haven’t the backbone to take responsibility for yourself. Now sit down and be quiet. I’m tired of you.’

  And, thoroughly deflated, Robert sat without a word.

  Rosalind turned towards Isabel. ‘I think, while we are waiting for Philip, I’d like you to tell me exactly what you’ve heard. All of it.’

  Mistress Dacre sighed, folded her hands and repeated the little she knew. Then she said wretchedly, ‘And I am very much afraid that it’s partly my fault. If one of them gets hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.’

  ‘What did you say to Philip?’ asked Rosalind. And then, remembering Robert’s presence, ‘Or no. I imagine I’ve a shrewd idea of the sort of thing – and I can’t say I blame you. It’s a pity that you had to involve Lord Amberley – but I can understand that the opportunity must have been hard to resist. Phil can be a terrible fool at times.’

  ‘No.’ Isabel smiled sadly. ‘He just wants a marriage of convenience. And, do you know – as long as he is alright, I don’t think I mind.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ snapped Rosalind with irritable ambiguity. ‘And I don’t know why you should worry about Philip – if he wasn’t alright he wouldn’t be dining at White’s. If he has met Lord Amberley and – and any damage has been done, then it clearly wasn’t to him.’

  There was a long pause and then Robert said casually, ‘Amberley is supposed to be a crack shot – and quite a reasonable swordsman, too.’

  ‘Which is presumably why you didn’t challenge him after he knocked you down,’ came the blighting response. And then, tilting her head, Rosalind said, ‘At last. Now we shall know.’

  Isabel listened but it was several seconds before she heard sounds betokening Lord Philip’s arrival; and then, almost immediately, he was in the room.

  He looked different; tired was the first word that sprang to Isabel’s mind – then older. But, realising that neither was quite right, she could only think that he was subtly changed; and wonder why. His frowning gaze scanned the room and then came to rest on her own face with a sort of questioning intensity that made her heart turn over.

  ‘Are – are you alright?’ she asked hesitantly.

  His expression altered and he gave a brief, harsh laugh.

  ‘Perfectly. Is that why you sent for me with such urgency?’

  ‘No.’ It was Rosalind who answered him. ‘That may be all Isabel cares for but it wasn’t she who sent for you. And I imagine you can guess what it is I want to know.’

  ‘Yes. You’ve found out that I fought Amberley and want to know whether I killed him – and the answer, of course, is that I didn’t.’ He laughed again and turned away to pour himself a glass of wine. ‘It seems I’m not a good enough shot. So fear not, little sister – he’ll live to fight another day. I only winged him.’

  The blood drummed unpleasantly in Rosalind’s ears and she clung to the arms of her chair.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Philip looked defiantly back across the room.

  ‘I mean,’ he said kindly, ‘that I put a bullet through his arm. Painful, messy and visually dramatic – but no more than a flesh wound.’

  Unable to remain silent any longer, Robert said incredulously, ‘He never missed you?’

  Some of Philip’s apparent bravado deserted him and he frowned into his glass.

  ‘No. He deloped.’

  ‘He what?’ asked Rosalind, recovering a little.

  ‘Fired in the air. What else would he do?’ demanded his lordship bitterly. And then, bowing mockingly to Isabel, ‘He was a very perfect, gentle knight. You see, I’ve managed to place your quotation.’

  Isabel flushed. ‘Why did you challenge him?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’ For a moment the satirical blue gaze continued to taunt her and then he ran a finger-nail noisily along the bars of Broody’s cage, jerking the bird into wakefulness.

  ‘Wark!’ screamed Broody indignantly. He seized a seed and spat.

  ‘That’s why,’ smiled Philip brightly. ‘Don’t tell me you hadn’t heard. Gentlemen in every club and coffee-house in London are laughing themselves silly.’

  ‘You’re angry with yourself,’ said Rosalind disconcertingly. ‘Why? Because you didn’t kill Lord Amberley … or because you didn’t miss?’

  There was a long, uncomfortable pause which was eventually punctuated by, ‘Rot the Captain! Sod the mate! Buggrit, buggrit, buggrit!’

  Cursing under his breath Philip, pulled off his cloak and tossed it over the cage.

  ‘Shit,’ said a muffled voice reproachfully.

  Silence fell and then Philip said flatly, ‘That bird has got to go.’

  ‘That’s not possible now, is it? Thanks you to, Broody will probably start receiving morning callers all of his own,’ remarked Rosalind with asperity. Then, ‘Well, Philip? I asked you a question.’

  ‘All right.’ His lordship ran a distracted hand through his hair and then said, ‘If you must know, I feel quite unreasonably guilty and wish I hadn’t done it. Never having been in this situation before, I don’t know if that’s normal or not. But until this morning, I disliked Amberley with completely satisfactory thoroughness – and thought I knew why. Only then he knelt on the grass, bleeding like a pig and made a stupid joke and everything seemed different. It’s absurd and illogical - but I don’t think I understand anything any more. And all because he could look at me and laugh.’

  A tiny smile lit the violet eyes.

  ‘Of course he would to that,’ said Rosalind. ‘I’m only surprised it’s taken you so long to see it.’

  ‘Not so fast,’ replied her brother grimly. ‘I said it seemed different – but it isn’t. It can’t be for nothing is fundamentally changed. He’s still the man who is indirectly responsible for your blindness and who has tried to hide it; the man who fleeces drunken youths at dice and raises false hopes in the breast of any girl unwise enough to let him charm her. And if you still doubt the last two, you have only to ask Robert. Ask him, for example, about Mistress Irwin.’

  ‘I wouldn’t ask Robert for the time of day and expect a truthful answer,’ said Rosalind astringently. ‘And if these were your only reasons for challenging Lord Amberley, I think you made a big mistake.’

  ‘She’s right.’ Isabel came abruptly to her feet. Her face was very pale and her hands were gripped so tight that her knuckles gleamed white. ‘You have made a mistake – and a much graver one than you know.’

  Philip’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile.

  ‘My God – are you in love with him as well?’

  ‘Not in the least. And if you’ll listen, I’ll explain. You’ve been under a misapprehension from the very beginning and the Marquis knows it. He – ‘

  ‘Be quiet, damn you!’ Robert erupted violently from his seat to seize her wrist. ‘You gave me your word.’

  ‘And you gave me yours – but it wasn’t worth much, was it?’ She directed a resolute brown gaze at his lordship. ‘You appear to think Lord Amberley a hardened and destructive flirt. Did Robert tell you so?’


  Robert’s fingers tightened like a vice on her arm. ‘Bella – ‘

  ‘Be quiet!’ she snapped. And again to Philip, ‘Did he?’

  His lordship appeared faintly dazed. ‘Yes.’

  Isabel looked full into her brother’s smouldering eyes.

  ‘Take your hands off me,’ she said in a tone of such flat contempt that he took an involuntary step back. ‘You are despicable. You lie and cheat and twist the facts to suit your own ends – and the only reason you hate the Marquis is because you’re jealous. He is all that you are not and so you hate him for it. I am ashamed of you.’

  ‘It’s a lie!’ shouted Robert. He was as white as his shirt and shaking. ‘I’m not jealous – I’m not! And you don’t know what you are saying, you bitch.’

  ‘Some time ago,’ continued Isabel as steadily as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘you persuaded me to give you a promise. I should never have done so and I bitterly regret that I did. But when I gave it, I had no notion just how far your mischief-making would go – that, because of you, a man might have been killed. And now I’m going to tell the truth before any more harm is done – and there’s nothing you can say to stop me.’

  Philip frowned at her. ‘Isabel – what is all this about? That I fought Amberley has little enough to do with Robert.’

  Isabel shook her head and took a couple of uncertain steps towards him.

  ‘It has everything to do with Robert. It was precipitated, in the end, by whatever happened at Vauxhall the other night – and, later on, I think Rosalind should tell you precisely what that was. But your dislike of the Marquis has always stemmed from your belief that he won three thousand guineas from Robert at dice.’

  ‘Hardly a belief,’ commented Philip dryly. ‘I saw him do it.’

  ‘No. You saw him win. You didn’t see him accept his winnings – and, in fact, he never did so. He returned Robert’s notes for nothing … and your three thousand guineas paid for a curricle and pair.’