“Indeed? And what is that, my lord?”
The grin grew a little. “By you, Lady Farrah.”
A teatray was brought in after dinner, much to my surprise. I could have been mistaken, but I rather thought that Lord Pecus was as surprised as I- which was, of course, nonsense, for what servant would send in a teatray that had not been requested? I found myself wondering if perhaps a very devoted servant might not do so, and wondered again just how much the servants in Pecus Manor knew.
It was no part of my bargain to stay for tea; and yet, I did stay. It couldn’t have been Susan’s blunt assurance of Father’s no longer needing me that influenced my decision: it must have been the wonderful aroma of Civetan Winter’s Dream blend rising from the tea canister that swayed me to stay. And then, just as I was making up my mind, Lord Pecus had suddenly looked so hopeful, in a puppylike manner that no man approaching forty has any right to look. . .
Lord Pecus drank his coffee with his boots off and his feet up, without making any attempt at decorum. I felt myself likewise free to do so, and curled my feet under me on the plush velvet to enjoy my tea luxuriously. The servants had happily possessed intelligence enough not to steep the tea before it was brought in, and so I was able to enjoy it properly brewed by my own hands. I offered Lord Pecus a cup, but he only shook his head.
“Smells like fruitcake,” he explained.
I don’t quite know how it happened, but before the evening was very much further advanced, I found myself reading the Sondeim Sonnet aloud for Lord Pecus’ entertainment. It was an old number of the Sonnet, and its humour therefore dated, but Lord Pecus was not so young that it was unintelligible to him, and every so often he would give a short bark of laughter.
Some time later I was amused, but unsurprised, to hear him emit a gentle snore. His chin had dropped to his chest in repose, his arms folded comfortably; and I could once again observe the two warring aspects of his face. I let my voice sink until it was a mere murmur, and ceased.
Poor boy, he’d been working himself too hard.
I allowed myself a few moments of pensive study before I retired to my suite, where Vadim and Keenan were still bickering.
I closed the door quietly behind myself, and said to the room at large: “It would appear that I have given neither of you sufficient to do, if you are now reduced to quarrelling with one another.”
They looked around guiltily with heat-flushed faces and miserable eyes.
“Sorry, lady.”
“Sorry, lady.”
I gazed at them thoughtfully, and then trod lightly across the room to the garden window. “Come with me, both of you.”
Vadim edged after me, shamefaced, and Keenan trailed dumbly behind her, rubbing a hand through his sticky hair so that it stood up in spikes.
I took them to the courtyard. The fountain there was a deep one with a low wall around it, and despite the profusion of brightly coloured fish, there were no inconvenient lilypads to tangle a small child who might happen to find himself or herself floundering in it.
“Up you get,” I told them crisply, and they climbed onto the parapet, surprised but uncomplaining.
“Wot’s happenin’?” Keenan demanded.
They were still looking at me in confusion when I pushed them in. Vadim gasped, Keenan yelled, and there was a splash sufficiently large to dampen my dinner dress pleasantly before they surfaced, spluttering.
“Wot didjer do that for?”
“Do you feel better now?” I asked, ignoring the question.
Vadim gave a gurgle of laughter. “Yes, lady. Thank you, lady. Are you coming in, lady?”
“Certainly not! I’m surprised at you, Vadim! The idea!”
“There’s no one watching at the windows,” she said persuasively.
“Oh, in that case!”
I sat myself down on the parapet and took off my shoes and stockings. “Just a paddle, mind; and if there is any splashing, I shall be excessively unhappy.”
Dusk remained in halflight for some time, and I eventually left the children paddling and frightening the colourful little fish with their splashes, while I retired to my suite with rapidly drying legs. It was sultry and dark indoors, and not even the bobbing lights overhead managed to convey anything but a sense of dullness. The first real day of summer. I bit back a sigh and thought dismally that I seemed to have a headache coming on. Fortunately for my melancholy frame of mind, I was not given time to dwell on it: my commlink buzzed almost immediately as I entered the dressing room, and displayed Susan’s flushed face.
“Kit’s right,” she said, with something of a gasp. “The place is humid enough to swim in. Belle, what have you gotten yourself into?”
“I suppose she’s dead?” I felt my heart sink, and I was not sure whether to be glad I had told the drifter to make himself scarce, or afraid that in doing so, I had led to the death of the washer-woman.
Susan nodded. “Remember how you said not to go there myself?”
I closed my eyes.
“All right, all right, I went there myself. The lummox went with me, if it makes you feel better.”
“Perhaps slightly,” I allowed. “But only very slightly.”
“It was all rather nasty,” Susan said ruminatively, gazing into the distance with a small line between her brows. She sighed and pulled herself together with a small shake of her head. “The lummox thought I was going to faint, or at least that’s what he said. I think it was just an excuse to drag me out by the scruff of the neck before the Watch caught up with us. Oh, and Miryum said to tell you that some friend or other of yours is like to get married. She seemed to think you’d be relieved. Been flirting again, have you, Belle?”
“Certainly not!” I said, with dignity. “And let me tell you that if you imagine I’ll let you change the subject so easily, you’re very much mistaken!”
“You would have done the same thing,” she reminded me, grinning.
“That’s quite true,” I admitted, fairmindedly. “I should like to have you know, however, that I did not at any point come close to fainting.”
“It came pretty close.” Susan was looking reflective. “It gave me a bit of a buzz through my head, anyway. You’re a better man than I took you for, Belle.”
“I should hope I’m nothing of the kind! No, I did not come even close to fainting. I did, however, lose my dinner in the hydrangeas.”
Susan gave a spurt of laughter. “Did anyone see you?”
“Only Melchior, and I threatened him with dire consequences if he ever revealed it to a soul.”
“I respond better to bribery,” Susan remarked. “Especially if you’re offering me some of those wonderful Glausian Chocolate Oranges. I’ve never seen so many luscious chocolates, Belle: it could be worth even the humidity. I had the lummox carrying bags and bags of them back home for me.”
I gazed at her in some amusement. The thought of Emmett carrying anybody’s bags, not to mention chocolate bags, was not one I had previously encountered.
“I’m certain that when Emmett was assigned guard duty, he was not of the opinion that his duties would include carrying your shopping bags. Does he complain?”
Susan grinned wickedly. “No. He just stands there like a mountain: a sort of strong, silent mountain. I even took him shopping for my court things, and he carried my stocking bag without a blink.”
“The poor boy! Have the others teased him dreadfully?”
“No,” Susan said thoughtfully; “But I think that might have something to do with the attacks.”
I blinked twice, rapidly. “Which attacks?”
“In the Sinkhole,” she said easily. “And once when I was out shopping for tea for you. I thought you should have some of the comforts of home, and someone else thought that they should have your comforts of home instead.”
“Glausian streets have become strangely perilous since I was taken off them,” I said, with a great deal of dryness. “Who would have thought it? Or did you just happen to wa
lk into the most dangerous of Glause’s citizens yesterday?”
“Well, Emmett was bored, and the others were starting to tease him, poor lummox. So we had a few adventures, and now everyone thinks I’m a difficult handful to guard.”
“Where did you manage to find characters desperate enough to attack you with Emmett standing by?”
Susan looked demure with a little difficulty.
“I must have stepped away just as the lummox turned to look at a display of street fighting that I may or may not have pointed out to him. A pickpocket and an enforcer were on the make, and somehow or other I ended up in a little side alley.” Susan paused, and added meditatively: “It really was impressive, Belle. I don’t think I’ve seen a full-grown man scale a ten foot wall quite so quickly before. Of course, by then the lummox had all but thumped him through the alley wall, broken his nose and hung his partner by the ankles, so I don’t know that I blame him.”
I raised my brows. “Emmett did all that?”
“He was a bit upset,” Susan explained. “I don’t think he likes it when I wander off.”
“I’m not surprised, if that’s the sort of thing that happens when you wander off! I expect Emmett will have grown a few grey hairs by the next time I see him.”
“I expect he will. He could have already for all I know, with his head shaved so close. He says he doesn’t like having to wash hair. Belle, is the Earl of Horn mixed up in this business?”
“If you’re trying to take me by surprise, you’ll have to try a little harder,” I said. “Besides, I would have told you anyway.”
“No ambushes,” protested Susan, spreading her hands in manifest innocence. “It just sprang to my mind. Emmett’s bald head reminded me.”
I choked on a laugh. “I would advise against calling Emmett bald to his face.”
Susan grinned. “Or at least without a nice thick wall between us. The earl, Belle.”
“The earl is very much mixed up in this business, unless I am greatly mistaken. Why do you ask?”
“Bits and pieces here and there.” Susan frowned, marshalling her thoughts, and perched her chin on the palm of her hand. “You’re not often mistaken, and unless I’m entirely in the wrong, the earl is a staunch albeit quiet dissenter of the military merger. He doesn’t say much, but he moves about behind the scenes, and suddenly things fall apart, or come together: and when they do, there he is in the background.”
“I suspected as much,” I said. “What has changed?”
“Well, he’s understated, but he’s never missed a summit. Not a meeting, not a session: and then all of a sudden, he misses three in a row.”
“What of Louisa?”
Susan made a face, and I bit back a smile. So Susan had not got along well with Louisa either. Unsurprising.
“Miss Twinkles-and-Bells has been sent away to the country for her health,” she told me, with a toss of the head that was purely Louisa. “By all accounts she’s not too happy about it.”
“I imagine not. And the Countess? Has she been sent off too?”
She shook her head. “Just Louisa. I had heard that the earl tried to send her away as well, but if so, the Countess has for once stood obdurate. People are funny, aren’t they?”
“Positively side-splitting. What else has happened this week?”
“Suspiciously little,” said Susan, shrugging. “It’s been a bit boring, really.”
“Aside from your encounter with the desperate scaff-and-raff of Glause,” I reminded her. “What do you think the earl is up to?”
Susan considered the question for a brief moment. “I think he’s about to run. Lord Pecus has taken him in for questioning four times this week. He’s no fool.”
“Lord Pecus or the earl?”
“Both. I think it might be a good time to meet with the earl.”
I huffed a small sigh, thinking rapidly. The earl would be either ready to run or ready to talk, and in either case, it would be as well to strike while the iron was hot.
“Could you arrange it, Su?”
“Maybe. Could you entertain him without being heard?”
That took a little more meditation. “With difficulty. I might have to er, break out.”
“How daring of you!” said Susan, with a wicked gleam to her eyes. “Is the Beast Lord that easily outwitted?”
“Not easily,” I said ruefully. “It is possible, however. If you can contact the earl, I think I might be able to arrange to slip away.”
Susan raised a brow. “Time? Place?”
“A picnic, I rather think. As to time, it might be expedient to let the earl decide: you can visit me when you know for sure.”
She nodded. “I’ll let you know. In the meantime, your bubbly little friend wants you to commlink with her. Try and persuade her that I really don’t want full court dress, will you?”
I narrowly avoided an unladylike snort. “Delysia is ever the optimist.”
“I can’t think why she believes it will suit me,” Susan added, indicating the length of her body with a wave of the hand. “Court dress is not for tall women.”
This time I allowed myself to grin. “Well, as you so elegantly put it earlier: people are funny, aren’t they?”
Chapter Five
Breakfast is undoubtedly the most important meal of the day. A good, hearty breakfast, eaten in the privacy of one’s own chambers, allows one to nibble delicately at one’s lunch as a lady should, and leaves the male populace in general under the impression that females are a delicate and tender species. It was therefore puzzling to find, some two months after the disastrous masque at Pecus Manor, that I had begun to look forward to dinner as the event of the day. I was observing myself in the mirror to test the effect of a newly designed dress when the thought occurred to me, and it left me gazing blindly at my own reflection for some minutes before I roused myself.
“Did you need something, lady?”
“Pardon, Vadim?”
Vadim paused in her folding. “I thought you said something.”
What I had said, in quiet astonishment, was: “Bother!”
Now I said, with sudden energy: “I’ve decided I won’t wear this one, Vadim. Bring me the cream and pink sheath.”
She gazed at me in open surprise. “But you said it makes you look like a strawberry strawbiscuit!”
“Well, there’s more to life than one’s clothes, after all!” I protested. It was high time I ceased to dress myself to the best advantage for Lord Pecus’ benefit. It wasn’t at all healthy for me: I was becoming maudlin.
“Are you ill, lady?”
“Very possibly. You’re right, that pink sheath is an abomination. Throw it in the incinerator and bring me the ivory beaded ensemble instead, the one with the gauze wrapper. It’s useless to expect a chill in the air, I suppose, but it might serve as protection against rain draughts.”
“The rain draughts are warm,” Vadim assured me, with an entirely misplaced solicitude. “It’s only the first month of autumn.”
“I am regretfully aware of that, Vadim!” I said. “In Civet, excepting a few evergreens, the trees will already have begun to lose their leaves.”
Vadim looked as if she were not quite sure whether to believe me or not. “What do they want to do that for?”
“So that the snow doesn’t gather on the leaves and drop a snowball down your collar,” I told her, not entirely mendaciously. “Where is Keenan? It seems that whenever I can’t see him trouble is quietly gathering a snowball to drop down my collar.”
“He’s still with Lady Susan.”
“Still gone? My, my, Susan has certainly been busy this morning. We can only hope that the time has been well spent. Persuading Keenan to stand still for some new clothes, for instance.”
“She’d be lucky,” opined Vadim pessimistically.
“Oh, Susan is very lucky,” I told her. “Keenan may well have met his match. In the meantime, I suppose I had better go down to dinner. If Keenan arrives home after I’ve
gone down to dinner, you must keep him up for me.”
Vadim nodded, laying the scarf of ivory gauze across my shoulders. “Will he have news?”
“Now, Vadim, if I knew that, I wouldn’t go down to dinner.” I regarded the mirror thoughtfully. “I wonder if it’s too late to have the headache?”
Nevertheless, I was very shortly making my way downstairs to the dining hall. I was conscious of looking really quite nice, and it was pleasant to feel Lord Pecus’ eyes resting on me appreciatively. It was no part of my plan to play the lovestruck maid, however, and I pulled myself together by saying firmly to him: “I am not well, and I shall be very unsociable.”
Amusement sprang to his eyes, lightening the green, and the now-familiar laugh lines creased beside them. It was becoming easier and easier to see his real face, and I had not failed to notice the covert glances of the server who brought in the different courses as each dinner saw Lord Pecus’ face a little clearer.
It was a nice face, with a strong nose that must have once been broken, and a firm jawline that was dark and stubbled. I liked the lines by his eyes, and the creases that curved beneath his cheeks when he grinned, meeting the corners of his mouth. In fact, if I could have imagined a face for him, it would have been this face. Really, the only thing I had not been expecting was the single, deep crease that served as a dimple.
It was in play now as he said affably: “What a pity. I thought we could talk about some new information I have regarding Raoul’s murder.”
I put my nose in the air. “No you didn’t. You thought you could tease me with it.”
“You’re a suspicious woman, Lady Farrah.”
“So I’ve been told. Very well, what is this news?”
“You already know the washingwater woman is dead: but what you don’t know is what I found in her rooms.”
I leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Intriguing! Do tell!”
“Well, I could, but my feelings are hurt,” explained Lord Pecus.
Masque (The Two Monarchies Sequence) Page 24