Keeper of the Swans

by Nancy Butler

  If the scene in Treypenny hadn’t already soured his disposition, the news from the gypsy camp would have. The Gypsies reported that Niall had gone off that morning and wasn’t expected back until sundown.

  Damn! He’d come too late to prevent the boy from making any more inquiries. Niall could be asking at Mortimer House this very minute. Pray God, he didn’t let on that he knew anything about the missing girl. If Allegra’s family suspected a Gypsy might have been involved in her disappearance, Niall’s whole band could be placed in danger. Especially if Sir Bleeding Beveril had anything to do with it.

  Romulus skirted the main street of Treypenny when he returned to his skiff. He didn’t want to come across either Argie Beasle or Joe Black. But he met up with no one, not one single soul. It was as though a crier had announced his passage through the town and sent everyone scurrying for safety. Even the children who normally played near the river stairs were gone.

  A dead gull lay across the center seat of his skiff, its limp wings lolling down on either side.

  With an oath he cast the bird away, not caring that it landed in the water. The turtles would make short work of it. Especially since, by the smell of it, it had been dead for some time. Good old Argie had dredged up a gull carcass in a childish attempt to intimidate his foe. Rom wondered that such a pitiful creature had been so successful at poaching his swans. Just went to show that gain was rarely based on merit.

  He did a thorough patrol of both sides of the river upstream from the island. The birdlife seemed relatively undisturbed. The only thing the least bit unusual he encountered was Wald Chipping, rowing his boat toward Richmond. The man had uncharacteristically cut short his morning session at the ‘Thrush.

  Rom called out as they passed each other, “No ferrying today?”

  The boatman shrugged. “Got supplies to deliver.” He motioned to a canvas-covered hump that lay in the bow of the boat.

  Romulus continued to guide his skiff along the water, keeping an eye out for slimy water rats skulking in the tail grass. A pair of swans sailed serenely past, their downy brood paddling furiously behind them. Romulus stopped rowing and sat watching as the adults nudged the curious cygnets away from his boat. His own cygnets would be back on the river inside of a week. And with any luck Allegra would have admitted her true identity by then, and have gone back to her own people. And then he would have his house to himself again. It was not a heartening thought.

  As he rowed beside his island, he heard laughter coming from the inlet. Angling his boat toward the source of the noise, he caught sight of Niall and Allegra, dangling fishing poles over the side of the punt.

  “Hello, Romulus!” Allegra waved gaily. “Niall is teaching me to fish. He came to see you this morning, but you’d already gone off.”

  “How did you get here?” Rom asked the boy, who was grinning like a hound.

  “Had one of the Yorrick’s men row me over to the island. He was going out after eels.” Niall turned to Diana. “I love eel pie. My granty makes the best on the river.”

  Diana made an unpleasant face. “I can’t say I’ve ever tasted eel.” She shifted her gaze to Romulus. “But the grebes like them, don’t they?”

  He nodded. “Though not in a pie.”

  It was giving him an odd sensation in his middle to see Allegra frolicking with the Gypsy boy. They looked to be of an age, and could have been brother and sister, with their straight, slim bodies and night-dark curls. Except that Niall was regarding the girl with less-than-brotherly appreciation.

  “I think you should come in now,” he cautioned them, more sharply than he had intended.

  “But I haven’t caught anything yet,” Diana protested.

  “Oh, very well,” Romulus said as he turned his boat back toward the river. “Just see that you stay in the creek. I’ve got my downstream rounds to make.”

  “Well, he wasn’t very cheerful,” Diana complained as Romulus disappeared from view.

  Niall gave her a conspiratorial wink. “He’s jealous.” She was starting to blush, when he added, “He loves to fish. But he’s got to go off and patrol the river, while we stay here and fish the afternoon away.”

  “I’m surprised he cares for fishing,” she said. “That he could harm any animal, I mean.”

  “A man who lives on the river would be daft not to fish.”

  “You don’t think he’s really daft, Niall, do you?” Her eyes had narrowed in concern. “Rom told me the people in the village think he is addled. But he’s not, not truly?”

  Niall shook his head as he rebaited Diana’s line. “He’s the oddest gorgio I’ve ever met. He frightens people, that’s the truth, with his size, and with those cat’s eyes of his. But he’s not addled. In fact, he saved my life just after he came to live here. We became friends after that.”

  “He saved my life, too,” she said with a sigh. “Pulled me out of the river before I could drown.”

  “He apparently makes a habit of that,” Niall observed as he leaned back and draped one bare leg over the side of the punt. “There I was sitting on an old tree limb, fishing for my supper”—he made an exaggerated motion with his bamboo pole—“when the blasted branch broke and down I went into the water. I couldn’t swim a lick at the time—I was sure I was done for. The next thing I know, this fellow plucks me out of the water by the collar of my shirt and drops me into his boat. He wouldn’t let me go back to camp until I’d learned how to swim. He taught me right here in this creek. I was shivering like a pup, from the cold, and from fear. But he stayed on me until I could make it across from bank to bank. When Rom brought me home, my father was so overjoyed, he offered Rom half his horses for saving my life. But he wouldn’t take anything. He asked only that I help him sometimes, bring him food and supplies and such, I was happy to do it. Even if he was the prickliest fellow I’d ever met.”

  “I thought he was your friend.”

  “Oh, he is. But that happened gradually. He was more of a nuisance in the beginning. I stole a bridle once, from the stable at Hamish House, and he made me return it to the lady who lives there…in person. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But the curious thing was, the lady wasn’t angry. Just upset. She gave me one of her yearlings to break, by way of paying her back—as though working with a highbred colt was any sort of punishment.” He chuckled.

  “So you’ve met Lady Hamish.”

  Niall gave her a long look. “Rom works for her. Didn’t you know?”

  Diana shook her head. “He’s never spoken of her.”

  “She keeps to herself, that one. Just like Rom. She rarely leaves her home and has few visitors.” He added with a thoughtful frown, “Well, except for her perishing nephew, Beveril.”

  “I gather you don’t like him…her nephew.”

  “Let’s say that he has no fondness in his heart for Gypsies. Or for Romulus, either. The two of them circle around each other like peevish terriers whenever they meet. It’s really quite entertaining.”

  Niall was watching her intently as he spoke. Diana immediately turned her attention to her fishing, fiddling with the line to distract the Gypsy’s sharp eyes. His revelation had made her very uncomfortable. It was unsettling to discover Romulus was connected to Beveril, however remotely. She hadn’t thought she would be endangering him by staying on his island. But what if he lost his position because of her? What if he was forced to leave his home and the river he loved because of a stubborn, foolish girl?

  She wasn’t at all surprised, however, to learn there was no love lost between Sir Beveril and Romulus. Her intended was surly and short-tempered with underlings—she’d seen how he treated the servants at Mortimer House. It was one of his less endearing qualities. He doubtless treated Rom in the same manner, like a lackey. And Romulus Perrin, in spite of his less-than-gentle birth, was a very proud man.

  Diana had lost all interest in fishing and soon complained to Niall of a headache.

  He poled the punt back to the grassy shore of the inlet.
“I expect you’re not feeling well enough to keep your end of the bargain,” he said as he helped her from the boat.

  She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved at the thought.

  “No,” she replied stoutly. “You kept up your end of the bargain. Now it’s my turn. I’m sure I will feel more the thing once I am out of the sun.”

  Diana led him into the sitting room and lit the candles on the desk. “Sit here, where you can see.”

  She went to the bookcase and tugged out the large, brown volume he had spoken of earlier.

  “Now,” she said as she opened it to a page that featured an illustration of a Bedouin on a delicate-looking charger, “see the words beneath the picture…. ‘The Arabian horse is one of the breeds of antiquity.’ ”

  Niall frowned. “It’s mostly gibberish to me.”

  “It won’t be when I’m through with you.” She looked up from the book and mused, “I wonder if I might have been a teacher in my other life.”

  “Rom said you are of the gentry—it’s not likely that you’d bother with other folks’ brats.”

  Diana smiled to herself. She had, in fact, bothered a great deal with other folks’ brats. Last year she had started a school for the children of the sheepherders and millworkers who lived near Bothys. It had been an instant success. Until the landowners and millowners heard of her good work and, fearing what an education might do to their future crop of workers, pressured her to close it down. Her father told her she had learned a valuable lesson—that men of stature were quick to curb even minor threats to their power. But that was small consolation to Diana. It was not in her nature to back down from a fight.

  Niall tickled her on the chin with the end of a quill pen, drawing her back from the irksome reminder of her failure. “I’d have stayed in school and gladly,” he said, attempting to coax the troubled expression from her blue eyes, “if the teacher looked anything like you. But that was years ago, when we camped in London. There was a church lady who gave lessons at our camp, but she had a face like a prune. I’d say your face puts me in mind of a peach.”

  She rapped him on the knuckles, and then grinned. “Lesson number one—no flirting with the teacher.”

  As Niall gave her a slow, lazy smile, Diana was glad her heart was already well and truly given. The gypsy boy cast a powerful spell.

  “Now sound out the letters, if you please,” she said briskly.

  * * *

  Romulus watched them silently from the doorway of the sitting room. He stood hipshot against the doorpost, one hand resting against his waist, the other trailing behind him.

  Niall was painfully attempting to read from a large book, while Diana coached him through the more difficult words. Their dark heads were nearly touching, and again Romulus felt that twisting sensation in his gut. If seeing her with his friend drew such a primitive response from him, he dared not think how he would feel if he ever saw her with Beveril. He misliked the idea of any man getting near her. Any man but himself.

  He coughed and both heads shot up.

  “I hate to interrupt this charming scene, but I need to speak to Niall…in private. Allegra, perhaps you could clean the fish we’re having for supper.”

  Diana looked perplexed. “But we didn’t catch anything.”

  He held up the stringer of trout that had been dangling behind the skirts of his coat. “No, but I did.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly put my efforts to shame,” she said, eyeing the three trout with envy. She closed the book and rose to her feet. “But I thought you were out on patrol.”

  “I always carry a line and some hooks in my pocket.”

  “Not your breeches pocket, I hope?” she said with a merry glance to Niall as she crossed the room.

  Romulus shook his head. “No, I learned that lesson the hard way. Now off you go. And, Allegra—”

  She looked up at him questioningly as he handed her the stringer.

  He nodded toward the bookcase. “Thank you for setting my books in order. I’ve been meaning to do it myself this age past.”

  She smiled in relief. “Niall said you would have my head on a platter for disturbing them.”

  He glanced sidelong at the boy, and then said smoothly, “Nonsense. It’s just that he knows there are some things of mine he is not allowed to touch.”

  Diana looked from the tall man who still leaned against the door, to the gypsy boy who now sat glowering at him. The sitting room was filled with a strange, almost palpable tension. She hastily took herself off to the kitchen, abandoning her plans to eavesdrop on the two men. They were clearly at odds with each other for some reason and she liked them both far too well to want to overhear any discord.

  * * *

  “Was that necessary?” Niall said, once Diana was out of earshot. “You’ve made me look a proper sod in front of her. She no doubt thinks I’ve been pilfering things from your house.”

  “As long as you got the message,” Romulus uttered as he settled himself in Diana’s chair.

  “In no uncertain terms,” the boy snapped.

  Romulus leaned forward and took up the book Diana had left on the desk. “You never told me you couldn’t read. Don’t you think I would have taught you, if you’d wanted to learn?”

  Niall said sullenly, “What does a Gypsy need with books? I’m only letting her teach me to please her.”

  “Oh, and is that an issue with you?” Romulus inquired softly. “Pleasing her?”

  “Oh, no!” Niall cried, leaping up from his chair. “Don’t start getting all huffy with me, Romulus. I know you are cross because I remained here this morning, even though I knew you had left the island. I just wanted to meet this water witch of yours. But that’s all there was to it, I swear.”

  “So you don’t find her to your taste?”

  “Damn it, Rom. A fellow would be blind not to find her to his taste. She is….”

  “What?”

  “Dangerous,” the Gypsy bit out. “To both of us. I wish you had never fished her out of the river.”

  “It may surprise you to know I have recently had the exact same thought. No good can come of her being here, and yet I haven’t the heart to send her away.”

  “You may change your tune when I tell you where she came from.”

  Niall had spoken the words with great portent, but Romulus merely shook his head. “I believe I already know that. Last night I found a rowboat from Mortimer House downstream from here, trapped under a fallen oak. Does that march with what you’ve uncovered?”

  “Yes, it does,” Niall stated. “That’s what I came to tell you—the dairymaid at Hamish House said that Beveril was in a rare snit over something that had occurred at Mortimer House this Saturday night past. I got a ride up river with a tinker and had a chat with one of Mortimer’s grooms. It seems that Beveril’s intended, Diana Exeley, disappeared the night of her betrothal ball and has not been heard of since.”

  Rom’s mouth tightened as his fingers stroked the edge of the book. “I feared that’s who she was.”

  Niall’s brow lowered. “And yet you will let her stay on? Knowing that Beveril will see you flogged, or worse, for keeping her from his hands? Or is that why you are doing it, Rom? Is this some twisted form of revenge on him for the way he has treated you?”

  “He will surely think it the case, if he ever discovers my part in it,” Romulus said. “But I am doing it for one reason only. Because Allegra—er, Diana—ran away from something that night. And until she trusts me enough to tell me what it was, I cannot in good conscience turn her over to her family.”

  “What if she never remembers? You can’t hide her away forever.”

  “Oh, she’ll tell me soon enough.” His mouth quirked up slightly as he added, “Her memory is surprisingly flexible. But until that time, I want no mention made of her to anyone. In Treypenny, or along the river. Promise me, Niall. Promise that you will not breathe a word about her to a soul.”

  “My granty suspects something
,” Niall said with a chuckle. “Remember, she furnished the clothing for the girl. She said she thought it was high time a fine fellow like you took a woman to his bed.”

  Romulus growled. “And I supposed you said nothing to discourage that line of thought?”

  Niall looked unchastened. “She’s a salty old thing, my granty. Thinks everyone ought to be busy procreating.”

  “Then she is blest in her grandson, at least,” Romulus noted.

  The gypsy boy blushed and stammered, “I-I’m not such a dab hand at it, as you seem to think.”

  “That’s a relief. I expect any day to hear you have been skinned alive by an irate farmer whose daughter you deflowered.”

  Niall shook his head as he said musingly, “Funny isn’t it, how a fellow gets a reputation without a shred of truth to it? Like the villagers thinking you a madman.”

  Romulus said softly, “There was some basis to that, Niall. Just as there is truth to your reputation as an up-and-coming rake. You may not be, as you put it, a dab hand, but women certainly fall at your feet. I wager there’s not a lass on the river who hasn’t at least made sheep’s eyes at you.”

  “You’d lose your money, then,” Niall stated. He motioned toward the kitchen. “Your water witch rapped me on the knuckles when I tried to cozen her. Not that I had anything improper in mind, you understand.”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly.” Romulus found himself grinning. So the black-eyed Gypsy’s flattery hadn’t teased so much as a smile out of Allegra.

  “Then you’ll let me come again, Rom? I think she needs something to occupy her time while you are away on the water.”

  “What? She should waste her time teaching a Gypsy to read?”

  Niall rubbed at an imaginary spot on his breeches. Without looking up he said, “Perhaps it might be of some use. I could read to my granty of a night. And do up the accounts when we take our horses to the fair.”

  Romulus leaned to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You needed only to ask, Niall. And I expect she’ll be a far more pleasant tutor than I would have been.”

  “I don’t know about that,” the boy said. “Not if she has at me every time I pay her a compliment.”