The Riddle of the Reluctant Rake

by Patricia Veryan

  She handed him a note, written in a careful copperplate hand.

  Meet Adair Tuesday. Same place and time.

  He said slowly, “You thought I was the ‘Adair’ in question.”

  “I—we—never doubted it for a moment. You were the dashing hussar who would easily win a young girl’s heart. I did not dream she cared for Nigel! They are just—children! Oh, if only we had not rushed to condemn you! I am so ashamed!”

  “Don’t blame yourself. It likely wouldn’t have made any difference, as things turned out.” But he thought, ‘Would it? If the note had been produced in evidence, would Nigel have realized that Alice had been referring to him? Might he then have come forward to confess his relationship with her?’

  Troubled, Miss Hall said, “Surely, he wouldn’t have eloped with her?”

  “He’s a good lad and has been bred up to be very aware of the proprieties and he goes in awe of my grandfather. I think this is his first love. My family brush it off as ‘puppy love,’ but youngsters feel things very intensely, you know.”

  After a pause she asked, “Did you, Colonel? Or can you remember back that far?”

  He looked at her sharply. A dimple trembled beside her mouth, but her thick lashes were lowered.

  “I think I am being called elderly,” he said with a grin. “But I can certainly remember my first love. The lady was my mama’s French maid and quite the loveliest creature I had beheld in all my sixteen years. I would have died for her, and I’m very sure I plagued her to death with my passionate poems and the little bunches of flowers I would smuggle to her.” He smiled, remembering. “She was ten years my senior, and very patient and kind. I was hopelessly enamoured for upwards of a year until she married the under-butler and they emigrated to the New World.”

  “Poor boy. Were you shattered?”

  “I probably would have been, had I not found a new love; a superb dapple-grey mare my grandfather was so kind as to give me.”

  “Aha! Would your present mount be related to that lady?”

  “Toreador is one of her sons—yes. Thank you for noticing him.”

  “How could one avoid it—he’s a beauty. And I’m glad you recovered from your lovesick state. But I believe you sidestepped my question about your brother. Do you think he is so deep in love that he might have persuaded Alice to go to Gretna Green?”

  Adair said slowly, “No man who really loves a lady could persuade her to an elopement that would lead to her disgrace and social ostracism.”

  “But he is very young. If he is so enamoured and Alice agreed to an elopement, what then?”

  “I might own it to be possible save for the fact that Nigel has made it clear he believes I have lured the lady away and keep her in hiding. He’s ready to call me out, I’m afraid.” And he thought that he must find Nigel as soon as possible.

  Cecily saw his rare frown and asked, “Do you make a habit of duelling, Colonel?”

  “Not with my own brother, certainly.” He spoke lightly, but she looked so grave that his smile died. “You do not approve of the affaire d’honneur, I take it.”

  “I think it a primitive and stupid way of settling a quarrel. Duelling should be strictly forbidden!”

  “I agree. And it is against the law, you know.”

  “A law you mean to break, do you not? Oh, never look so startled! I know Rufus has been fencing with you daily.”

  Uneasy, he said, “He’s very good, and because we fence doesn’t mean that—”

  “That you’re going out with that horrid Thorne Webber?”

  He groaned. “Rufus had no business telling you of it!”

  “Nor did he. Mr. Webber has been pursuing me—very clumsily, I might add—for some time. I allowed him a dance one evening and had only to mention your name to send him into a rage.”

  “Whereupon you coaxed the details out of him, did you?”

  “It took very little coaxing. He is a boastful creature. But I’ve heard he is also very dangerous and has killed his man.”

  Adair was silent.

  “Good heavens, Colonel! I’d think you have seen enough of blood and killing during the war! Do you so enjoy fighting?”

  “I am no longer a colonel, you know,” he evaded whimsically, but seeing her irked frown he answered, “There are insults, Miss Hall, that a gentleman cannot overlook.”

  “Such as being struck in the face with a horsewhip while others looked on.”

  He flushed hotly. “As you say, ma’am.”

  “So, to mend matters, you must needs go out and try to cripple or kill each other! What utter folly! How many children have been left fatherless, I wonder, or sweethearts and wives heart-broken, only to appease your stupid male Code of Honour!”

  She looked and sounded very upset, with the result that his own heart lifted. “Be honest, Miss Hall. Would any one of your brothers swallow such an insult?”

  “I have no brothers. You confuse me with another lady, no doubt.”

  “Not so! You distinctly warned me when first we met that you had five brothers who were fine shots.”

  She moaned and put a hand over her eyes, then, peeping at him through her fingers, said, “Oh, but you are unkind! Must you remember every foolish thing I say and then shame me by repeating it?”

  He chuckled. “You were seeking to ward off any improper advance I might make. Understandable, under the circumstances. But you will own that you ladies are not without pride.”

  “I’ll grant that. If another lady were to strike me in the face, I might very well strike her back, but—but I’d not take a pistol and try to blow her br-brains out, or run her through with a sword in some—some muddy field at d-daybreak!”

  Suddenly her eyes were glittering with tears. Ecstatic, Adair lifted the hand that now clung to his so tightly, and pressed it to his lips. “Perhaps not. Yet you did not hesitate to take a pistol to me not so long ago.”

  She said with a sob in her voice, “Do not … change the subject!”

  Somehow, his arm slipped around her. He murmured, “Dare I hope that you might care if I should fall?”

  She swayed to him and murmured unsteadily, “You stand in so much danger already. If you should be killed…”

  He brushed his lips along her cheek. “Then it would matter to you?”

  She wailed, “Oh … Hasty…!”

  Those were the last words she uttered for a short, heavenly space, during which she was crushed to his heart and kissed as she had hoped someday to be kissed. She was breathless and starry-eyed when he drew back, whispering the tender words of love every woman longs to hear.

  “Whatever … has happened to us?” she asked dreamily.

  “We have been blessed. We love each other, my very dear.”

  “Do you think it really a blessing? Should we be grateful, then?”

  He kissed her ear. “Exceeding grateful.”

  “It would be very wicked to—to throw away such a magnificent gift, no?” She felt him tense and her hands tightened on his cravat. “You have kissed me, Colonel Adair! If you really value your honour you must—must make an honest woman of me!”

  He detached her hands but held them enfolded within his own. “It is the dearest dream of my heart to be able to offer for you, my beautiful blessing.”

  Cecily frowned and stood, tidying her gown and straightening her mask. “But you will not.”

  “My dear.” Standing to face her, he said quietly, “You know I cannot.”

  “Why? You love me. You admitted it. And Grandmama knows that I love you!”

  At this, he reached out to the peerless lady he had found so unexpectedly, but she stepped back, regarding him with cold angry eyes. He let his hand fall, and asked, “And does she approve, Cecily? Of course she does not. Your uncle holds me to blame for his daughter’s abduction. Can you imagine his reaction were I to knock on his door and ask for the hand of his lovely niece? He’d likely shoot me on the spot.”

  She bit her lip. “When you are cleared
he will welcome you.” Adair started to speak and she put her fingers over his lips, silencing him. “Meanwhile, we can plight our troth. Here. Now.”

  He kissed her soft fingers but shook his head. “Not until I can approach your family openly. As it is, I should not in honour have spoken at all. I have told you of my prospects—or lack of them.”

  “Oh, how stubborn you are! Do you say you would throw away happiness because I have a large fortune? Are you so despicably proud, Hastings Adair?”

  “No.” He pulled her close and despite her struggles held her in an iron grip. “Your fortune is not a lure but I hope I’m not such a fool as to sacrifice my every hope of winning you because of it. Think, lovely one. If I should be cleared, I’ll go back to the army. That is no life for you.”

  “Better than emptiness without you.” She stopped struggling and her arms slipped up around his neck. Pressing tight against him, she said, “Are you afraid I’ll disgrace you in front of your almighty General? You should have thought of that before you kissed me, sir.”

  He sighed. “Very true.”

  “Oh! Brute!”

  “No, no. I would be the proudest man in the world to present you to Lord Wellington as my wife. But—”

  “But—but—but! Then let us at least tell Grandmama and Rufus that we are unofficially betrothed. Oh, you wretch!” She seized his ears. “Do not shake this handsome head again! If you really loved me—”

  “Because I do so love and honour you—”

  “You will not offer for me! Famous!” She flung around, presenting her back to him. “So much for honour!”

  “Yes. I have disgraced myself once more. I’ll leave you.”

  He kissed the nape of her neck and turned to the door.

  Like a flash she was before him, leaning back against it, her wide gaze fixed imploringly on his face. “Let us not part like this. Please, Hasty, at least promise you will not fight that horrible man.”

  “I have no choice. You know that.”

  “I know that your alleged love must be feeble indeed, since you deny every request I make of you!”

  His jaw set. “Could you respect a man who did not defend his honour? I think rather you would come to despise him!”

  “Go, then.” She turned away and muttered bitterly, “I had heard the Adairs were a proud lot. It is truth, indeed. I am only ashamed that I have humbled my own pride. Do me the favour, sir, of forgetting my foolishness and not boasting of your conquest.”

  He whitened. “Cecily! Don’t say such things! You’ve given me a gift I’d not dared to hope for and that I’ll cherish as long as I live. How could I ever forget it? When I can come to you without shame, I’ll remind you—”

  “Do not bother! Long before that day dawns I will have quite forgotten you!” With a toss of the head she wrenched the door open and swept into the passage.

  Adair gazed after her, torn between the ecstasy of knowing that he had found his true love, and despair that he might also have lost her. He saw on the sofa the blue flower she had worn in her hair, and stooped to take it up. A faint fragrance lingered about it. He was putting it carefully into his pocket when he heard a great roar of excitement from the ballroom.

  Through the hubbub, one cry was repeated, “The unmasking! The unmasking!”

  13

  Adair opened the door with caution. There was great deal of excitement nearby, but the passage was clear. He strode along quickly and silently but halted as a crowd of merry-makers appeared, blocking his way and searching the various anterooms to “capture” those who had not yet unmasked. They whooped and cheered as a pair of “culprits” were surrounded, masks removed and friends identified.

  Adair retreated, but from the other end of the passage came more guests, and the tall lady who had challenged him earlier swept towards him.

  “There you are, naughty boy,” she cried playfully. “Come, everybody, and see that I was right! Off with it, Cam!”

  “No, but Damon’s hair is darker,” argued a fat but jolly maiden. Adair moaned inwardly. Miss Pauline Jameson was the daughter of one of his mother’s close friends. At one time Mrs. Jameson and Lady Andrea had their hearts set on a marriage between himself and the young lady, and Miss Jameson had made it clear that she was not averse to the match. It was another instance in which he had displeased his mother by quietly but firmly resisting her plans. Mrs. Jameson had been one of the first who “ceased to know” Lady Andrea when the scandal of his arrest had become public knowledge, and Lady Andrea had been heard to remark bitterly that Hastings had been “right for once” in refusing to offer for the child of such “a fair-weather friend”—whom she would “never forgive. Never!”

  There were hoots of mirth, demands to be told how Miss Jameson knew the elusive Camille Damon, and more laughter when she declared defiantly that she had met the young Marquis during a family visit to Copenhagen.

  “When you were ten” chortled a Dandy who wore an enormous bouquet in his buttonhole.

  This evoked more laughter, under cover of which Adair edged towards the ante-room he had just left.

  Not to be deprived of her triumph, the tall lady had been watching him and suddenly swooped to snatch off his mask.

  The laughter ceased.

  There were gasps and cries of outrage.

  The tall lady exclaimed, “Oh! My heavens!”

  Adair said, “You were mistaken, you see, ma’am.” He stepped back into the ante-room, slammed the door shut and propped a chair under the handle.

  Pandemonium raged in the passage. Fists pounded at the door. There were conflicting shouts that he be thrown out, and that the Watch be summoned to haul him back to gaol where he belonged.

  He ran across the room and flung open the window. The ballroom was on the first floor of the mansion and there was quite a drop to the gardens below, but he climbed out, hung by his hands from the sill briefly, then let go and landed in a flower bed without mishap.

  From above someone shouted, “He’ll climb out of the window! After the scoundrel!”

  As he ran, those words seared Adair’s mind. “The scoundrel…! The scoundrel!”

  The wet weather had prevented decorative lanterns being hung from the trees and he blended with the deeper shadows and made for a rear gate that gave onto the alley. A door on the terrace was flung open, sending a bright beam across the lawns. At least a score of men ran outside. They were all shouting at once, seemingly united in the desire to “teach the filthy swine a lesson.” It was a voice Adair had heard before—the voice of the mindless mob, and when a howl of “There he goes!” rang out, he abandoned the trees and cut across the open grass. They were after him at once. If he were caught, his family would be in for more humiliation at the very least. He ran faster and was almost to the alley when the back gate was flung open and a liveried footman, alerted by the uproar, rushed at him.

  “Did he pass you by?” howled Adair, and when the man halted, shaking his head uncertainly, he commanded, “Try the west gate! I’ll get this side!”

  “Who is it, sir?”

  “A thief! A guinea to you if you catch him!”

  The footman tore off. Some of the pursuers, confused, followed him, but most were still hot on Adair’s heels as he sprinted through the gate.

  He swore in frustration as a closed coach pulled up, blocking his way.

  The vengeful crowd was almost to the alley.

  He started toward the horses’ heads, but the carriage door was flung open, cutting off his retreat in the narrow alley.

  “Get in! Quickly!”

  There was no mistaking that clear voice. Adair sprang inside and slammed the door and the coach raced away.

  Sitting back, he panted, “Phew! I thank you, ma’am.”

  As though there had been no interruption in their previous conversation, Cecily said composedly, “Were I to wait until you feel inclined to offer for me—”

  “Feel inclined? You know very well—”

  “And was I so for
tunate as to become your wife before I am old and grey—would my life always be like this? One desperate melée after another?”

  He took up her hand while he considered, then he said with a slow smile, “Army life is seldom tranquil, my dear.” Kissing each finger, he added, “But I thank you for … riding to my rescue. They were not … very kindly disposed … I fear.”

  Watching with interest as the little finger was attended to, she observed, “Only set loose a group of male animals and they revert to naughty little boys.” She reclaimed her hand. “The tale will be all over Town by morning, you know.”

  “Yes. Might your coach have been recognized?”

  “I doubt it. The light in the alley was not good and there is no crest on the door panels. Tell Peters your direction, and then I’ll show you my cousin’s ill-gotten gains.”

  Adair leaned from the window and called to the coachman. When he sat back again, Cecily handed him a small velvet bag. “These are the only things we found,” she said regretfully. “I’m afraid they’re of no help, Hasty.”

  They inspected the various items together. In the dim light it was difficult to see details, but in addition to some small items of jewellery, a pair of scissors, a comb and an elaborately embroidered handkerchief, there were several buttons, as Rufus had said.

  When the coach pulled up on the corner of Fleet Street, Cecily told him he could keep the bag and inspect the contents in his new home. “You are not fighting your beastly duel in the morning, I take it,” she said, watching him suspiciously. “Else you’d not have gone out tonight.”

  “I shall start a new fashion,” he teased, “and send out written invitations to witness our meeting.”

  She was not amused and declared her intention to pester Rufus until he told her where and when the duel was to take place. “And I shall notify Bow Street at once.”

  Adair swung open the carriage door. “In which case I shall probably be tossed into gaol,” he said. “With even less chance of proving my innocence.”

  He stooped to kiss her cheek. “Try to remember me kindly.”

  “I shall remember that I hate you,” she retaliated, but she leaned to his kiss and as he sprang from the coach she called, “Hasty! Do please take care!”