Time's Fool

by Patricia Veryan

  She gave a little squeak as the first footman came up silent-footed to bestow a pinch upon her plump derriere.

  “That won’t be nothing new and strange,” he said with a grin. “Not in this here household it won’t. Why’re you droopin’ like last week’s dirty wash, Maggie?”

  “No such thing, Mister Audacious,” denied Maggie huffily, then added with a worried frown, “only … sometimes I feel that sorry for her. She’s so alone, poor little thing.”

  “Go on, woman! What is it? You got windmills aloft, or something? Ain’t she surrounded by friends, and all the fine gents admiring and flattering her day and night? Ain’t she got a great fortune to keep her company, and everything she could want for?”

  “You’re a wicked young man, Robert Hinton,” said Maggie without equivocation. “With naughty roving hands. And like most men you don’t see what’s under your nose ’til you get bit by it! My lady’s got everything, all right—’cepting the thing she most wants. Kindness, Mr. H. A look with a bit o’ love in it now and then.” She scowled. “Precious little affection she got from her mama. And he don’t know the meaning of the word, with his high-in-the-instep pride, and his glooms and rages!”

  “Ar, well you should’ve heard his peership ranting and raving when you was so late coming home. Cor! And the look on his face just now’ll have her shaking in her shoes, I shouldn’t wonder!”

  Maggie looked troubled, but said staunchly, “She ain’t afeared of him, never think it! Not of him nor of nothing! A right plucked ’un she be.”

  When Naomi entered the withdrawing room, however, for a brief moment she did feel a surge of fear. Simon Ordway Lutonville, seventh Earl of Collington, was standing by the glowing hearth, one hand on the mantel, the other holding a half-full wineglass. He was not a tall man and enjoyed his table, but he had refused to allow himself to run to fat, and at three and fifty wore his clothes well. He stood very still, his immaculately bewigged head slightly downbent as he gazed into the flames, but anger radiated from every line of him, and when he swung around as the lackey closed the doors, the expression on his handsome face was the one his wife had so dreaded.

  Nerving herself, Naomi walked across the luxuriously appointed room, affecting not to notice the heavy scowling brows, the spark in the light green eyes, the tight set of the jaw of this man who had sired her, and whom she so little understood. “Why, Papa,” she said, with faint irony, “how upset you are, and have left your card party early! I had not dreamed you would be anxious for my sake.”

  His lips thinned, and the scowl deepened. He said coldly, “So you take me for an unnatural parent. Be comforted. I already ascertained that you were not hurt. When the rogues are caught, they’ll pay for daring to lay hands on you. That, I promise! Was your fool of a coachman foxed? How came he to squat there like a curst block while a lady of Quality was assaulted by crude animals?”

  Politely stifling a yawn, Naomi sank into a chair. “I am very tired, sir. Might this not wait until morning?”

  The earl watched her. The rich satin dressing gown clung to her shapely figure, and her hair, brushed free of powder, glowed in a rich chestnut-brown cloud about her lovely face. She was a vexatious and defiant chit, not yet broken to bridle, but in a way he was proud of her spirit, and certainly she was a credit to him. Controlling his burning impatience, he crossed to the sideboard, poured a glass of wine and carried it to her. “No, it might not wait ’til morning. Here. This will restore you. And let me hear no missish airs about its being the first you’ve ever tasted.”

  Naomi sipped the wine, then said demurely, “As you say, Papa.”

  He gave a faintly amused grunt, and returned to prop his broad shoulders against the mantel. “Well?”

  “I think you have already questioned Roger Coach—”

  “The man’s a dolt. I’ll have it from you, if you please. And firstly, I’ll know what the devil you were doing frippering around Canterbury Cathedral.”

  “Improving my mind, sir. I was so long out of England there is much I’ve not seen of my own land.”

  “You shall see it when you’ve my permission, and are properly chaperoned.”

  “With all due respect, Papa, I am of age and—”

  “And are a lady of Quality, and will behave like one.”

  “La, but you are become very prim of a sudden.”

  “Perhaps. But I have told you before that what I countenanced in Italy will not do in England. Never flash your eyes at me like that, my girl! You’re not too grown up to be spanked, I’ll remind you, and so long as you dwell under my roof, you’ll obey me!”

  Pale with anger, she said, “On the day you raise your hand to me, sir, I shall leave your roof. I am not cut of the same cloth as poor Mama.”

  The earl’s lips set tightly and he took a pace towards her. She saw the fine eyes narrow with wrath, and her heart beat faster. “Besides,” she went on, struggling to keep her voice steady, “had I been accompanied by three chaperones and Falcon’s hound, they would have availed me nothing. The thieves were waiting for us and we were surrounded before Roger had a chance to so much as think of his blunderbuss.”

  “Waiting for you? What the deuce d’you mean by that?”

  “I mean that they were evidently hiding in the shrubs, waiting for some likely looking coach to come along.” Puzzled by such a silly question, she added, “Whatever did you think?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose I must admit ’twas a fortunate circumstance that you met the Falcons. I’ve no love for the half-breed, but at least he was able to prevent your being robbed. He knows one end of a pistol from t’other, certainly.” He had seen her irked frown and said slyly, “Alas, and I have offended Madame Tolerance. I should have used his proper title, I collect. ‘The Mandarin’ then, is that acceptable?”

  She said with cold emphasis, “August Falcon’s grandmama on his mother’s side was the daughter of a Chinese princess and a Russian nobleman. His grandfather was English, as were his father’s parents. I believe that would result in his having less than one-fourth mixed blood. Furthermore, if her portrait is even a remotely close likeness, Mrs. Natasha Falcon must have been the most beautiful lady in London, half-breed or no, and I—”

  “She was ravishing, and if you fancy that makes her grandson one jot more acceptable, disabuse your mind of the notion. What is it, m’dear? Have you a fondness for his fortune? An inducement, and he’s a handsome young devil, I admit, but I’ll not give my consent to an alliance in that direction, and so I warn you.”

  “I believe I have not asked it of you, sir. But it is thanks to August that my valuables were not taken. He was shot, were you aware?”

  “So your fool of a coachman said.” The earl paced closer, watching her narrowly. “What he did not say, but that I discovered by merest chance, was that you called at Promontory Point today. You will be so good as to explain why.”

  Naomi’s nerves jumped, but she managed to answer with an assumption of nonchalance. “The weather was dreadful and our wheel about to fall off. I knew we were near the Point, so I instructed Roger to try for help there.”

  “Very plausible.” He smiled thinly. “And now pray let me hear the truth. You went hoping to see young Rossiter again. Still pant for him, do you? Have you no pride?”

  Her cheeks hot, she said, “I would think I have made it abundantly clear that I do not pant for him, as you rather inelegantly put it, sir! And my pride is intact, I promise you!”

  “I hope the same may be said for mine! Old Rossiter must have properly sniggered to see you go crawling—”

  “Sir Mark was in Town, as I knew, else I’d never have set foot on the property!”

  “Well, that’s something, at least. Place closed up, eh? Then you got no help after all?”

  “We did, in point of fact. Mr. Newby Rossiter was there.”

  “Indeed? You must have found much to talk about.”

  “I had—a few words with the gentleman.”

  “Since
Newby Rossiter bears no resemblance to a gentleman, one can but hope they were very few.” Fully expecting a heated contradiction, the earl heard none. Intrigued, he sat on the arm of a great wing chair and said shrewdly, “Stole a kiss, did he? I’m not surprised. You invited it by calling on him unchaperoned.”

  “I did not call on him,” she declared, goaded. “At least, not knowingly! And as for a kiss, all the creature got was a broken toe.”

  He gave a shout of laughter. “Bravo! The young rake will know better than to maul a ginger tabby next time! Well, then. Are you ready to honour your wager?”

  “Wager?” Puzzled, she said, “I do not follow you, sir.”

  “Oh yes you do, Madam Trickery! Did I not tell you that despite the fascinations of the Low Countries, your gallant captain would now find it expedient to return home and try to mend his fences? Come now, never pretend you have forgot. You wagered me fifty guineas that he would not be so gauche. You must pay up, m’dear.”

  She stared at him. “Do you say … Gideon is—is back in England?”

  “What, didn’t Newby tell you? I’d have thought—” He checked, and said musingly, “Unless … Did the rogue come here before ever he showed his face to his sire, I wonder?” And with a scornful snort, “There’s desperation for you!”

  “Here?” she gasped. “Gideon was here? At Collington?”

  “You may believe he was! The young varmint had the bare-faced gall to present himself on my doorstep. And soon got thrown off it, you may be sure!”

  “But—but whatever did he say? Did you ask him—”

  “I asked him nothing. I refused to receive him!”

  “Papa! Whatever else, Gideon is well born and the son of your good friend. I cannot—”

  “My former friend,” put in the earl dulcetly.

  “Even so, I cannot credit that you did not at least have the courtesy to explain matters.”

  “Courtesy, is it? Much courtesy he has shown you, flaunting his wantons about, with not a scruple for the fact he was betrothed to you!”

  She said rather wearily, “I think he is not the first man to take a mistress, Papa.”

  “I collect you refer to my own reputation,” he snapped, bristling.

  Naomi looked at him steadily, for his numerous successes with London’s ladies were no secret.

  “The situation is entirely different,” he said, taking a turn about the room and waving his wineglass to emphasize his statements. “I am a widower, my children grown.” He avoided her eyes here, since his amorous adventures had distressed his wife long before her demise. “A gentleman may take one mistress, or a dozen—can he afford the pretty creatures. But he is required to exercise discretion. Young Rossiter pays small heed to the conventions, and evidently ain’t learned yet that the man who is so callous as to leave his mistress and her brat to starve, has put himself beyond the pale! For that alone, he’d be blackballed.”

  “So you knew there was a child,” she said quietly.

  “Of course I knew! All England knows, I shouldn’t wonder. Men enjoy a juicy piece of gossip just as much as you ladies, m’dear. If I heard it once, I heard it a score of times, to say nothing of his frequent assignations with a lightskirt in some garden or other. But”—he gave a gesture of impatience—“you knew all this, and were no less disgusted than I, as I recall.”

  “I had not known about the—the child.”

  “Humph. And Master Newby was pleased to put you in possession of that detail, was he? Famous! And typical that he should repeat such tales to a lady. Well, if nothing else, it should convince you that explanations from me are neither required nor necessary. Captain Rossiter would have to be a proper fool not to know damned well where he stands with us. When he had the gall to demand that Pawson carry up his card, I could scarce believe it. I was so sure ’twas a ruse in fact, I stole a look at him from the landing. Blessed if I’d have recognized him, for he’s thin as any rail and bears little resemblance to the arrogant young Buck who went riding off to—”

  “My God!” Her father’s words had struck a chord, and Naomi paled, the wine splashing onto her dressing gown as she cried out a shocked, “Then—’twas him!”

  “Eh? What the deuce are you flying into a pucker about now?”

  “The men who rid up to help us during the hold-up were both officers. I had never met the one who shot August, but I kept thinking there was something familiar about his friend. I realize now that it must—Oh, Lud! ’Tis incredible! But—it must have been—”

  “Gideon … Rossiter?” he interrupted, almost equally astonished. “The deuce!” They stared at each other for a stunned instant. Then the earl said with a slow grin, “In that event, I’d not be surprised to discover ’twas all a hoax! The young devil likely arranged the hold-up only to try and restore himself to your good graces.”

  Shocked, she said, “No, how can you think so awful a thing? Two men were killed, and—”

  “Yokels! Pah! England has an over-abundance of such!”

  “—and Gideon—if ’twas Gideon—did not even recognize me.”

  Her caveat was disregarded. Vastly amused, he said, “I’ve come at the heart of it, stap me if I ain’t! Why, that slippery rascal! No, never look so starched up. Give him credit for a good try, at least!”

  She shook her head stubbornly. “I know he has behaved very badly, but I’ll not believe this of him. Besides, an his motives are as you say, he played his cards poorly. His manner towards me was far from conciliating, to say the least of it. I feel sure that he did not recognize me. ’Twas almost dark, and I had fallen and was soaking wet, with my hair all down and over my face. I doubt you would have known me at that moment.” More shaken than she wished to reveal, she set her unfinished wine aside and came to her feet. “Now, sir, with your permission, I shall bid you good night.”

  My lord stood as his daughter swept him a curtsy. “Very well, get to your bed, child, and we shall be charitable and accept your version of the affair. In which case, I should offer up thanks for your—er, knights in shining armour.” He chuckled to himself. “Falcon and Rossiter! A half-breed, and a rascally and disgraced opportunist! The devil anoint me if ever a lady won herself two more dubious champions!”

  Naomi paused and observed coldly, “You were the one chose him for my husband, Papa.”

  “True enough. But that was long ago, and now you are the one refuses all others. You’ve rejected some damned fine offers. ’Tis past time you allied yourself with a worthy gentleman.”

  “Is there such a creature, sir?” Her lip curled. “’Pon rep, but I begin to doubt it.”

  He chuckled. “Not such a green girl, are you, my pet? Then settle for a rich one, worthy or not. You’re two and twenty, and I am being hinted that you’re on the shelf—though damn ’em, that’s nine parts jealousy on the part of the women, at least. Still, it does not suit me to have a spinster daughter, so make up your mind, or I’ll make it up for you! There’s a fine gentleman fairly slavering to lay his riches at your feet, and—Well, I shall say no more tonight. You look hagged. Get to your bed, and pleasant dreams.”

  Pleasant dreams! If she had any dreams tonight he had ensured that they would be nightmares …

  Lord Simon strolled to the door with her, then said casually, “Oh, by the bye, send down the package before you retire.”

  Naomi tried to gather her badly scattered wits. “Package…?”

  “The package you collected from the jeweller in Canterbury.” His smile a little tight, he added, “Your head is really full of windmills tonight.”

  “Oh, my goodness! What with all the excitement, I had quite forgot.”

  The earl’s fingers tightened about the door handle. “You did get it?”

  “Yes, sir. ’Tis—in my reticule, I think.”

  He said very softly, “One trusts it is! We’ll have your woman down here with it. Now.” He crossed to the bell pull.

  Five minutes later, his howl of rage set knees to knocking all ove
r the great house.

  * * *

  The postilions had become minor celebrities and the patrons of the Red Pheasant Inn had been quite willing to gratify their thirst in exchange for ever more lurid descriptions of the highwaymen. By the time Rossiter found them in the stables they were so inebriated that they were quite unable to ride. He was unable to find a light carriage, so hired a hack to carry him home, and packing only his basic necessities in the saddlebags, desired the proprietor to hold the rest of his belongings at the inn until he sent a servant for them the following day.

  It was a long and unpleasant journey. Like Roger Coachman, he knew the road well, and now that the rain had stopped, a quarter moon occasionally crept from behind shredding clouds to light his way. The air was still damp, however, and a strong wind had come up, chilling him to the bone and whipping occasional sprays of water from the drenched trees. He scarcely noticed his discomfort. Mile after mile, August Falcon’s harsh words haunted him: “Your sire was proved a thief and embezzler…” It was a mistake, of course. Or a deliberate lie.

  His thoughts drifted back to Eton. Falcon had been a year ahead of him and although his birth brought him mockery and derision, his fists had won him a measure of respect. Gideon, hiding his own loneliness behind an air of cool self-possession, had rather admired the older boy and would have liked to make a friend of him. His one attempt along those lines had been made when Falcon was attacked and outnumbered, and his intervention had won him only blazing resentment, and a snarled, “In future, keep your pure English nose out of my affairs!” Rossiter had taken Falcon at his word and had avoided him like the plague, but although they were not, nor ever could be friends, he had never heard of Falcon being less than square and above-board in his dealings, and could not credit that the man was a liar.