Katrina her eyes mischievous.
Gwendolyn clapped her hands. "What a splendid notion! Only let us have your requirements, Ruth, and we will—Oh! Unless you are already bespoken, of course." Laughing, Ruth said, "No, but—" And then she remembered her "major," and said in confusion, "Well, that is to say—I am—er, rather—er, betrothed."
They stared at her. She felt her face burn, and stumbled her way through an involved explanation concerning the major she had not seen for "some years" and from whom she never heard.
Gwendolyn said in her forthright way, "Good gracious! Do you fear he is dead?"
Belatedly recalling the letter Tummet was supposed to have delivered, Ruth wished the major had never been "born," and was obliged to make unkind allegations about "the dreadful state of the mails" plus the merciless demands of her fiance's military duties. She was sure they were not convinced, and, guilt-ridden by all the fibs she'd told, contrived to turn their attention to the old lighthouse and its changed appearance in the fresco.
When they approached the house, the game of rounders was well under way, footmen and grooms having evidently been commandeered to augment the teams. Chandler, egged on by ear-splitting howls from a small crowd of apparently insane males, was sprinting at amazing speed around an irregular circle marked by hay bales, while Mr. Swinton, also a fine runner, tore after a flying ball.
Entering into the spirit at once, Gwendolyn and Katrina called encouragement. Ruth was also caught up in the general excitement, and when Chandler shot past the last post just ahead of the ball Swinton hurled at him, she squealed enthusiastically and jumped up and down clapping her hands.
Panting, Chandler turned to grin at her triumphantly. He had shed his coat, and she smiled back at him, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, and his long, powerful legs. Recovering from that lapse, she saw Katrina watching her with a rather odd expression. Embarrassed, flustered, quite sure she had betrayed herself, Ruth stammered, "It—er, was splendid, no?"
"Yes," agreed Katrina quietly. "He was."
Gwendolyn exclaimed, "Only look, here comes Lady de Brette. Oh, what a delicious gown!"
Chandler had already seen the approach of his bride to-be, and he hurried to shrug into his coat before going to welcome her.
Turning quickly, Ruth stood rigid, frozen with shock.
The lady who came gracefully across the grass on the arm of a most elegant gentleman wore an off-white Watteau gown trimmed with light blue velvet. She was tall and shapely, with great eyes of a velvety brown, and brown curls charmingly arranged in the new shorter style. Every bit as beautiful as rumour said, she was also the lady who had come to Lingways to purchase the desk and the various other items of furniture; and who had been so very rude and unkind. With an anguished pang, Ruth thought, 'No! Oh, no! She will not make him happy!'
Chandler bowed over the white hand extended to him, then dropped a kiss on the brow of his bride-to-be. "Welcome, welcome," he said. "How lovely you look, ma'am."
"You are hot and dirty," said my lady, poutingly disappointed. "And you have guests arrived before us."
"Yes." He shook hands with her brother and uttered a rank falsehood.
"Very good to see you again, de Brette. Come and meet our friends." He led Nadia to the nearest of these. "May I present Mrs. Allington, our resident artist?"
Ruth curtsied.
Lady Nadia's gaze flickered over her with neither interest nor recognition, and came to rest on August Falcon.
Lord Vincent de Brette was a rather angular man, a decade older and of lesser stature than his regal sister, but with well-cut features and a fine pair of dark eyes. He put up his quizzing glass, and said, "Good God!"
Chandler looked at him sharply.
Ruth held her breath.
" 'Tis the Mandarin!" lisped Lord Vincent all too audibly.
"Oh no!" said Lady Nadia, very much aware of that fact. "Chandler, you surely have not invited the Falcons?"
A muscle rippled in Chandler's jaw. He said quietly, "My dear, I think you must not have heard. This is—"
"Yes, yes. The artist person. How do you do, Mrs.—er… Now, surely, Gordon… ?"
Ruth stepped back, but Chandler caught her wrist. "Mrs. Allington," he said, an edge to his voice, "allow me to present Lord Vincent de Brette."
Flushed, Ruth curtsied again.
De Brette waved his quizzing glass airily, and, his amused gaze still on Falcon, said, "Charmed, ma'am."
Indignant, but relieved that she had not been recognized, Ruth slipped away.
"And be dashed if it ain't that fellow Morse who dangles after Miss Falcon," his lordship continued. "And— egad! The Rossiter chit! Gadzooks, Chandler! What a collection of oddities you have assembled for our—ah, entertainment!"
Chandler pulled his eyes from Ruth's retreating figure, and drawled, "No, do you think so? I trust our other guests don't share your opinion." De Brette looked at him, and he went on, "But I doubt they will remark upon it. They're well-bred people."
Lord Vincent tittered, and rapped his glass lightly on his sister's arm. "Listen to this, m'dear. I believe we stands rebuked!"
Tearing her fascinated gaze from Falcon's aloof face, my lady encountered so steely a look in Chandler's eyes that she felt a tingle of alarm. She was accustomed to adulation, and had attributed his occasional coolness to the fact that his was not a demonstrative nature. True, he had balked now and then at attending some social function or other, or had refused to bow to her cajolery regarding his reluctance to stay in Town, or her desire to invite certain of her friends to Lac Brillant. Not having much cared about such issues, she had shrugged and thought only that she had not bothered to put forth her best efforts. It had never occurred to her that he might prove difficult to handle. She had him, of course, but this glimpse of steel titillated her, and besides, it was never wise to take chances.
Therefore, she rested her hand on Chandler's arm and summoning her most enchanting smile, said, "Just as we deserve. Faith, but you are very right to rebuke us, dear sir, for we were being rude. Come now, Lord Vincent, we must be kind to my dear Chandler's guests."
She was properly polite to Gwendolyn Rossiter, and echoed her brother's remark that Miss Katrina Falcon was quite cruelly lovely. She smiled upon Morris, and August Falcon was permitted to kiss her hand while her great eyes flirted with him over her fan.
"And now, Lieutenant," said Chandler, "I think you are the only person not acquainted with my future—"
Morris was still seething over Lord Vincent's unfortunate earlier remarks. With a hauteur that astounded Falcon and delighted Katrina, he said, "Assuredly, I am. You ain't a man I'm likely to forget, Fowles."
To have been mistaken for Sir Gilbert Fowles, one of London's most mincing and dandified macaronis, brought a flush to Lord Vincent's pale cheeks. Chandler's mouth twitched, August Falcon chuckled, Katrina's eyes glinted with laughter, and Gwendolyn made no attempt to restrain a broad smile.
"I'd heard you was a funny fellow," snapped his lordship.
"Oh, I don't know," drawled Falcon. "Sometimes he's quite shrewd."
Lady Nadia was deeply fond of her brother. She was also as attracted by Falcon's remarkable looks as she was revolted by his mixed blood. She gave a nervous ripple of laughter and her fan fluttered. "La, sir, but you are naughty to tease my brother so. Ah, here is my dear papa-in-law!"
Delighted to greet his favourite, Sir Brian kissed her hand, bowed to her brother, whom he privately considered an unfortunate encumbrance, and quite missed the tense air about the group. My lady took his arm and enquired with an assumption of interest how the work of restoration progressed. Pleased, he said that she must "come and see."
Chandler made his excuses to his team, Dutch Coachman took his place, and the game resumed as the small party began to wander towards the chapel.
Thorpe, in his role of Jacob, galloped to them, Hercules gamboling at his heels.
"You are sufficiently muddy for three boys," said Sir
Brian, amused, "but I think I cannot present—"
He was interrupted by Lady Nadia's squeal as Hercules, finding his god among those present, hurled himself at Chandler.
"Keep it away!" she cried angrily, drawing her skirts close about her. "Oh, 'tis just like that horrid mongrel that attacked me in Covent Garden!"
Chandler scooped up Hercules and tried to avoid having his face washed.
With an irritated glance at his son, Sir Brian said, "My regrets that the animal annoys you, Nadia. It has no business here."
"Is my fault, sir," said Thorpe uneasily. "I must have left the gate open. I'll take him back to Mr. Swinton's house."
"That's a good little boy," said Lady Nadia. "Give him a penny, Vincent."
Relinquishing Hercules into Thorpe's ready arms, Chandler stiffened. "You mistake it, ma'am. Jacob is not a servant here."
"No, no." Sir Brian patted my lady's dainty hand and nodded to the boy. "Be off with you, rascal. And convey my apologies to your cousin for sending you home in such disarray."
Thorpe grinned, and hurried off, the complaining Hercules tucked under his arm.
Curious, Lady Nadia asked, "Do you say he came with one of your guests?"
"He is Mrs. Allington's nephew," said Chandler. "And a fine young man—"
"Mrs. Allington?" interrupted de Brette, amazed. "Your hired artist—or whatever she is?"
Chandler fixed him with a steady stare.
"Do you say the woman has brought her cousin and her nephew with her?" asked my lady. "If ever I heard of such a thing! I wonder you permit my poor papa-in-law to be so imposed upon, Chandler."
"No, never scold him, my dear," said Sir Brian. " Tis thanks to Jacob that Gordon was found after those scoundrels attacked him, and—"
"And only see how you all have turned my poor intellect!" My lady stopped abruptly and, transferring both hands to Chandler's arm, cried, "We were gone down to Torquay to visit my dearest godmama and—la! When I read of it in the newspaper 'twas already days old. I was fairly frantic—was I not Vincent?"
"Inconsolable, dear soul," confirmed de Brette with his affected lisp. "No living with her, Chandler. Must leave Torquay on the instant, said she. For a day or two I quite feared she would fall into a decline, for she fancied you to be on your deathbed, dear boy. Is why we raced here, hell for leather as one might say, if you'll forgive me, my lady."
Chandler said, "My regrets that you were distressed, Nadia." And thought it remarkable that his "frantic" betrothed had not run to him with anxiety when first she saw him, rather than complaining that he was "hot and dirty."
"Of course I was distressed," she declared, her lovely eyes aswim with tears. "Never have I been so relieved as to see you hale and hearty. And what must you do but bewilder me with all the talk of mongrels and boys and—and your artist person. As if it were not all stuff compared to your dear life! Tell me truly, I beg you! Are you well? Are those dreadful ruffians caught and hanged? Who were they?" And turning in desperation to Sir Brian, she transferred one hand to his, and asked, "Does Quentin know of it? Oh, 'tis so ghastly!"
Sir Brian did his best to reassure her and to explain matters, so that by the time they arrived at the chapel my lady had recovered her composure.
"So this is your famous discovery." Lord Vincent peered at the fresco through his quizzing glass. "Interesting."
" 'Twould be more so an we could see the whole," observed Lady Nadia. "Your woman has been here long enough that one might think it should have been completed."
" Tis very tiring work, ma'am," said Chandler, a flash in his eyes.
Lord Vincent looked at him thoughtfully.
"I can vouch for that, dear lady," said Sir Brian. "I have taken a turn at it, as has Gordon, and even Nathaniel Aymer. I doubt I could spend as many hours at it as does Mrs. Allington."
My lady nodded. "Which does but confirm my belief that it is no task for a female."
"It must be fascinating work, even so," murmured her brother, "to have won the lady so many willing helpers."
"I'll not deny 'tis intriguing to watch the colours creep back through the grime," admitted Sir Brian. "Come up and have a closer look."
Lady Nadia declined, but Lord Vincent climbed the steps to the platform.
"What material does she use to clean the surface?" asked my lady.
Lord Vincent said, " 'Pears to be… Blister me! 'Tis dry bread, m'dear!"
My lady shook her head. "She would do better to moisten it."
With an indulgent smile Sir Brian said that he was assured Mrs. Allington knew what she was about.
My lady was irked. She had gone to the trouble of requiring an indigent cousin to investigate the subject of art restorations and advise her, whereby she flattered herself that she could sound quite knowledgeable. She did not comment, but she was gratified a few minutes later when Sir Brian said, "Ah, here is our artist come back. Lady de Brette has a question for you, Mrs. Allington."
Ruth had not realized they were in here, and had started to back away, but now she waited, taking care to stand with the brightness from the windows behind her.
Lady Nadia said, "I fail to understand why you do not use moistened bread, Mrs. Allington. Surely, your method requires twice as much time."
"Moistened bread can be used on some surfaces, ma'am," Ruth answered. "But one has to be careful, and—"
My lady made a gesture of impatience. "You would do even better did you employ Greek wine, rather than water. Surely you are aware that the great Mazola used such means in restoring part of the Sistine Chapel?"
" Tis true that Signor Mazzuoli used such wine," said Ruth, pronouncing the great man's name correctly, but without emphasis. "However, recent examination has shown that method to cause considerable deterioration and allow dirt to become—"
She was again interrupted as Lord Vincent exclaimed, "Jupiter! Never say you claim to be more knowledgeable than such a master, Mrs. Allington?"
Ruth flushed, but her attempt to respond was cut off by Lady Nadia, who remarked scornfully that it was a great pity, because the painting was now so sadly cracked. "'Twill require much repainting and glue-varnishing in order to repair the damage that has been done here!" Sir Brian looked at his fresco in dismay. Chandler, who had also been reading on the subject, put in, "I am very sure that the damage was done long years ago, Nadia. We have Mrs. Allington to thank in that although the work may need some repainting, it will not be dulled or permanently darkened, as might have been the case with a less proficient method."
Lord Vincent chuckled softly. "And that sends you to the topes, m'dear!" He noted his sister's tight lips and angry flush and, all too aware of her dislike of any form of opposition, went on, "I am sure Lady de Brette will be the first to own that her opinions are based more upon interest than a deep knowledge of the matter. Which Chandler appears to have er… developed. Confess, my dear."
Nadia's glinting eyes met his bland ones. She read a warning there, and glancing at Chandler saw again the inflexible look that had earlier disturbed her. With commendable speed, she summoned her tinkling laugh. "Alas," she said with a pretty moue. "I tried so to impress my dear papa-in-law, and have failed miserably." Turning her smile on Ruth, she said, "Dear Mrs. Allington you will forgive an I discomposed you? I did but—" She broke off, her eyes narrowing. "Have we met somewhere? I seem to know you."
Ruth lowered her eyes. "I scarce think I move in your circles, my lady. Might you have seen me in a London bazaar or lending library?"
There was no denying, thought my lady, that this drab creature most definitely did not move in her own exalted circles. She nodded, gave her hand to Gordon, and asked plaintively if she might be offered a cup of tea, in spite of her attempt at fraud. That made Sir Brian laugh, and they all left the chapel.
Chandler hung back to close the door.
Ruth had climbed to the platform, but she turned to glance at him.
He gave her a slow smile and winked encouragingly, winning an answe
ring smile.
Seemingly engrossed by an elaborate rose bed, Lord Vincent missed no least detail of this small exchange.
By late afternoon more overnight guests had arrived. These included Mr. Neville Falcon, a short plump gentleman with a cherubic countenance, an atrocious taste in dress, and a penchant for scandalous behaviour. He arrived with a tall and voluptuous "bird of paradise" on his arm and seemed far less embarrassed at being caught by his son and daughter with such a lady than he was surprised at finding his children present at the gathering.
They sat down thirty to table and passed a most enjoyable two hours. Sir Brian was in high spirits, only the absence of his younger son casting a shadow on this beginning to his birthday festivities. To have such spectacular beauties as Lady Nadia de Brette and Miss Katrina
Falcon present added lustre to the occasion. Katrina was so well liked that her mixed birth was overlooked, although few at that table would have included her in their own parties. Her unpredictable brother was no less caustic than usual, but the ladies could scarce keep their eyes from him, and the gentlemen were much too aware of his deadly reputation to risk cutting him too obviously.
Lady Nadia was ravishing in a great-skirted rococo-style gown of off-white faille with a looped-back overskirt of deep pink satin and exquisite embroidery of the same shade on the bodice and fashioned in deep swoops above the hemline of the gown. Full of fun and vivacity, she charmed all the gentlemen, but directed her main effort towards August Falcon. During the impromptu dance that followed dinner it pleased that gentleman to encourage her coy glances, and when he claimed her for a partner she flirted with him so daringly as to bring a sardonic gleam to his cold blue eyes, a troubled look to Sir Brian, and a rather set smile to the lips of Lord Vincent.
When his sister was restored to him, his lordship took her aside and spoke softly to her. My lady at once sought out her fiance, who was chatting with Gwendolyn Rossiter, nor did she leave his side again until he handed a candle to her some three hours later and wished her a good night. She smiled up at him, then lifted her face invitingly. Surprised, he bent to kiss her and she reached up to caress his cheek and murmur softly, "Thank you, dear Gordon, for a very happy evening."
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