Had We Never Loved

by Patricia Veryan

  “If you imply that my ‘restraint’ stretched to assisting de Villars to escape to France, you—”

  With patent horror, Farrier raised both hands. “Good gracious me! As if I could think such a thing! De Villars is known to have helped countless Jacobites elude justice. He is a foul traitor to his king and country! I would be a fool indeed to suspect that a loyal gentleman such as yourself, a peer of the realm, would willingly breathe the same air with such—vermin! Much less be of aid to him.”

  Smiling faintly, Kadenworthy murmured, “I have heard of you, Farrier. It appears that rumour did not exaggerate.”

  Farrier bowed. “You are too kind, sir.”

  “Oh, no,” said his lordship blightingly. He walked past and flung open the door. “This way,” he called over his shoulder.

  For just an instant, Mr. Farrier’s grin slipped, but when he followed Hector Kadenworthy along the hall, it was as bland as ever.

  * * *

  “You’re damned crusty today,” observed August Falcon, occupying a deep chair in Kadenworthy’s spacious withdrawing room.

  “The rain does not appear to deter unwelcome callers,” grunted his lordship, strolling over to the credenza and unstoppering a decanter. “I no sooner get rid of one noxious pest than you arrive. I presume you’re here about your confounded duel. I do not scruple to tell you, Falcon, that ’twill be a great day for England when you cease whittling down the population.”

  A derisive smile lit August Falcon’s lean face. “Much you care about the population.”

  “I care about it when I am constantly bamboozled into seconding you. Madeira or sherry?”

  “Madeira, if you please. Prepare yourself; I may call out Glendenning next. I assumed you’d not object, but he should’ve had the common courtesy to let me know.”

  Kadenworthy carried a glass of Madeira to his guest, then sat down on a black and gold brocade sofa. “Not object to what?”

  Jerking the glass back from his lips, Falcon splashed some of the wine on his blue velvet coat, and swore lustily. He dabbed at the stain with his handkerchief and asked, “Has Glendenning not yet reached here?”

  “He came last week and took tea with my aunt. Said he wanted to see me, but I was racing that day. We had quite a large turn-out. I presume Tio decided to return at a more convenient time.”

  “More convenient time?” Falcon spluttered, “Good God, man! The duel is for Monday morning!”

  “The hell it is! The twenty-seventh, d’ye mean? Well, of all the shabby set outs! Is everyone else agreed?”

  “Yes. And if you tell me you must cancel, I’ll likely shoot Morris out of hand and be done with it! This is the second time we’ve arranged this damned meeting, and each time we postpone, the clod has an excuse to come mooning around Katrina again!”

  Watching the handsome features darken with rage, Kadenworthy grinned, and added fuel to the fire by remarking that he rather liked Morris. “Be curst if I can remember why you’re fighting.”

  “Well, I’m not likely to forget, I promise you! ’Twas when our coach was held up and I pursued the filthy rank riders.”

  “Ah, yes. And when you returned, poor Morris mistook you for a highwayman.”

  “Poor Morris? The devil! You’d not think him so poor had he shot you down by mistake! Stupid blockhead! When I think—”

  “Pray do not! I’ve no least desire that you should explode in here! My house has been sufficiently contaminated today. Oh, never breathe fire and smoke, I’ll second you, dammit. I gave my word. I’ll come up on Saturday and stay at my club.”

  Falcon thanked him gruffly, took another swallow from his glass, then asked, “Who was your other contaminant? Or do I presume too much?”

  Kadenworthy scowled and said a clipped, “Burton Farrier.”

  “Zounds! What treachery have you been about to bring that wart down upon you? I’d not thought you were for our royal Scots dimwit.”

  “Charles Stuart was ill advised, but he’s no dimwit. Nor is Farrier, blast him! He was full of sly innuendoes about my acquaintanceship with Treve de Villars.”

  Falcon rubbed his wineglass thoughtfully against the end of his nose. “You are a hard-hearted man, Kade, and I have no love for you, but if you need safe passage to France…”

  “Merci beaucoup, mon cher ami, but my only brush with the Jacobites was a brief one. It was chancy, though. And that idiot de Villars was very much involved.”

  “So the Horse Guards have set the Terrier to sniff you out, eh? Did he accuse you, or let you sweat?”

  “He pretended to doubt the authenticity of my mother’s emeralds. I allowed him to inspect ’em, and he oozed away. I sent him off with a flea in his ear, I can tell you.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself he noticed it. I fancy the dolt’s ears are fairly crowded with fleas. An he really had some proof, Kade, you’d be en route to the Tower at this very minute. He’s sent a score of fine gentlemen to their deaths.”

  They looked at each other.

  Repressing a shudder, Kadenworthy muttered, “I fairly panted to plant my fist in his smile. The fellow makes my skin creep!”

  “Yes. I sympathize. Still…” Falcon frowned. “I wonder what he was really after.”

  * * *

  The Countess of Bowers-Malden stood at the window of her private parlour, watching a raindrop dodge and wriggle down the glass. “I should have guessed,” she said, a very faint tremor to her usually resonant voice, “when you gave us all such splendid gifts. That beautiful tiara for me, the dressing case for your father—”

  The young man sprawled in the chair by the fireplace put a slim hand over his eyes, and interrupted wearily, “The fault is entirely my own, Mama. I was a blind fool not to see that they were letting me win only so as to—to lure me into larger wagers. But they were all fine gentlemen, and I did not dream…” The words faltered, and ceased.

  The countess turned to gaze at the tall, scholarly boy who was her so beloved son. Michael was crushed with despair. Her heart wrung, she went over and touched his thick light brown hair tenderly. “Never worry so, dearest. We’ll find some way to pay them. If Papa knew—”

  “No! I beg you! An he knew he would surely blame Tio. He blames Tio for everything! And he would fix me with that terrible look of contempt.” The hazel eyes, usually so carefree, were frantic. He clasped her hand. “I deserve that you should tell him, I know, ma’am. But—I could not bear it!”

  She sat on the chair close to his, and said soothingly, “Then, of course, we must not consider it. Have you told your brother?”

  The fair head ducked once more. “I couldn’t find him. Would to God I had. Tio would rip me up, I don’t doubt, but he’d help, just the same. Then, I wouldn’t have had to bother you with it all.”

  She said gravely, “Have you bothered me with it all, darling?” His eyes flew to meet hers. She said, “I think you have only told me part, yes? You were invited to play cards with three gentlemen, and over two evenings of play, you won two thousand pounds, which—like the generous creature you are—you spent on some very lavish gifts. The next night you played at Mrs. Alvelley’s house, and you won again, to the tune of three thousand.”

  He said bitterly, “And two nights later I had lost ten. ’Fore God, Mama, I don’t know how it chanced. Tio warned me never to drink heavily when I played, and I thought I was careful, but”—he shrugged—“the widow is a beautiful lady and—and—”

  “And flattered and encouraged you, I do not doubt,” put in the countess with wrathful indignation. “Such women should be whipped at the cart tail, and would have been in grandmama’s day! But that is neither here nor there. You have returned the tiara and your sister’s necklace, and with what I could raise we have repaid six thousand. Somehow, we must find the rest, although one week allows us very little time. I have given you all the funds I had. To get more I would have to ask Papa, and to approach him for such a sum would certainly raise his suspicions.” She wrung her hands. “I coul
d appeal to my friends, or some of our relations—Lord knows, they could afford it. But sooner or later Papa would be sure to hear of it.”

  Flushing darkly, he said, “And how splendid it is that I must take back the gifts I had bought you. I am truly a deplorable villain. And now—God forgive me!—I’ve to ask if … if we might perhaps borrow ’gainst your jewels?”

  She saw how tightly his hands were clenched, and knew very well what that plea must have cost him. She loved him dearly, but she took a deep breath and said with quiet finality, “I will be honest, Michael. I dare not. I have never told you this, because Bowers-Malden’s first wife was my very best friend, and I do not care to speak ill of poor Adelaide. Gregory was wild with joy when she told him she was in a delicate condition again, some months after Tio was born, but she was not a strong woman. She suffered miscarriages with that babe and the one which followed, and the physician told her there would be no more children. Gregory had longed for another son, and Adelaide was heartsick. She sought solace in gaming. It became an obsession, and she not only lost a great deal of money, but some exquisite diamonds that had belonged to Gregory’s great grandmama. I was staying here then. I have never seen him so enraged. Always he has been passionately opposed to gambling in any form. He loved Adelaide, but he felt that she had betrayed his trust. I think that was the final blow to her health. When she died, he reproached himself bitterly for having scolded her so.”

  Michael’s sensitive heart was touched. “Good Lord!” he muttered. “What a tragic thing.”

  “Yes. So you see, I would not—I could not put him through such a nightmare again. And, alas, the only jewels I have that are of real worth are those he gave me. Oh, if only Tio would come back.”

  He looked up sharply. “Come back? He was here?”

  “Yes, and asking for you. The dear soul sensed that I was worried. I had my work cut out not to tell him, but you had my promise, so I managed to convince him all was well. If that wretched widow means to hound you, however, you must go to him, my love. He can lend you the four thousand, I’ve no doubt, and then—” She paused, alarmed by his anguished expression.

  “’Tis not four thousand, dear Mama.” He stood and faced her squarely. “I had not the courage to tell you the whole. When I’d lost the ten thousand, I was half out of my mind, I think. Mrs. Alvelley was all kindness and understanding. She convinced me that my luck must turn, and agreed to take my vowels. I won, and won again. I was overjoyed, and everybody said this was—was my winning streak. Oh, God! I must have been mad, but I could not seem to lose, and the—the end of it was that I staked it all on the turn of a card!”

  Scarcely daring to ask, she said hoarsely, “How much n-now, Michael?”

  He wrenched away and strode to the hearth. With his back to her, he gripped the mantelpiece and bowed his head onto his hands.

  “Michael?”

  He turned, his face deathly pale. “Twenty-two … thousand,” he croaked. “Twenty-two thousand!”

  Lady Nola sat very still and, after a moment, said in a failing voice, “What a merciless harridan, to so ensnare a young fellow!”

  “If the young fellow is as foolish as I, he deserves it! At all events, it now transpires that Mrs. Alvelley is but a figurehead as it were, and does not actually own her—establishment. Her patron is a Major Trethaway. He is quite the man about Town, but I think you are not acquainted. He allowed me a month to make good the debt. I sold everything I could, and with what you gave me I was able to take him eleven thousand. But he is charging a very high rate of daily interest, and much of my payment was swallowed up. And now, he says he has suffered heavy reverses and must have the entire balance at once, or he will … will have me thrown into Debtors Prison.”

  The poor countess closed her eyes for an instant, then quavered, “But what good would that do? Surely, he would be better advised to wait a little while until we can raise the funds?”

  “I—begged him, Mama!” Driving a fist into his palm, Michael swung around and began to pace up and down. “If you had but seen how I humbled myself to the dirty—” He broke off, and ran a hand through his disordered locks, then said harshly, “He says my father will pay up sooner than face the disgrace of having a m-member of his family thrown into the Gatehouse.”

  With a muffled sob, Lady Nola buried her face in her hands.

  Michael ran to kneel before her. His own eyes tearful, he groaned, “Poor, dear Mama! I am so sorry! I am so sorry! If only Marguerite still had that old plaid pin that belonged to Grandmama Comyn, we might come about, but—”

  Lady Nola’s head jerked up. “What plaid pin? Michael—you never mean that hideous great thing with the amethysts and all those odd inscriptions?”

  “Yes. It was very old, I believe, and Trethaway is most interested in antique jewellry. He asked if I had anything of the kind. I described the pin to him, and he said he thought he knew the piece and that ’tis listed in several catalogues and of considerable value. I thought I was saved! But when I asked Marguerite she said she lost it years since, and never dared tell you for fear you would be angry.”

  The countess gripped her hands together. “Thank heaven! Your sister did not lose it, my dearest. I took it away from her after I found it pinned on one of her doll’s dresses and left to lie in the rain.”

  “Mama!” His haggard face lighting up, he gasped, “Do you say you have it?”

  “Yes, dear! Yes! I tucked it away for safe keeping, and had quite forgot the ugly thing!” She stood, her eyes radiant.

  Elated, he took her in his arms and whirled her around. “Hallelujah!” he shouted joyously. “Oh, Mama! How wonderful you are!” He gave her a smacking kiss, and she laughed and wept, and wiped tears away. Holding her at arms’ length then, he said earnestly, “I have been a weak fool, my dear, and have caused you great anxiety. I swear to you I shall never do so again. I’ll take your brooch to Trethaway, but with Tio’s help I shall redeem it for you. I give you my word!”

  She kissed him fondly. “I do not doubt you will, my love. Meanwhile, we must be grateful. Most gentlemen gamble, after all, and it could have been so much worse! Praise God, we have found a way out!”

  “Amen to that,” said Michael fervently.

  CHAPTER V

  “I tells ye I won’t! And that be that! I sold her. ’Twas me right! And we needs the dibs, ye knows that. What it is, Amy, that there perishing Quality cove has addled yer female brains! D’ye think he’d give you a second look if it wasn’t that he’s knocked up for a day or two? Ha!”

  “Much I’d care if he did. But I won’t prig from a man what—who saved me from the nubbing cheat, or being transported. You do like I say Uncle Ab, else—else I’ll coil rope!”

  The angry voices disturbed Glendenning’s midmorning nap. ‘Nubbing cheat,’ of course, was cant for the gallows, but he wondered drowsily what ‘coil rope’ meant. After a pause, he had his answer.

  Absalom said in a tone of disbelief, “Ye’d slope, gal? After all the years I kept ye safe, is that the thanks I get? You’d really go off and leave me?”

  Another pause, then the girl’s voice, shaky but defiant: “I’m grateful, Uncle Ab. I allus will be. But—there’s some things—What I means is—I got me pride.”

  “I saved you from the chals! All the fights and the argifying! And I bought you outta the tribe. But never mind about me. Don’t even think what yer life woulda been like today if I hadn’t of brought you here. You don’t owe me nothing. Not so much as you owes him, ’cause he’s young and good looking, and full of fancy Quality gab.”

  “Oh … Uncle Ab…!”

  Glendenning lifted his head and blinked at them. The blanket was tied back, and he could see into the kitchen. Morning sunlight streamed through the open outer door, touching the scarf tied about Amy’s glossy hair and making of it a blaze of scarlet. She stood by the table, holding a string bag full of onions clasped to her bosom, and looking distressed as she faced Absalom’s truculent glare.

&nb
sp; “What’ll you do,” snarled Absalom, “if he’s after ye the minute I goes? And he will be, certain sure.”

  “You just said he wouldn’t give me a second look.”

  “No more he will. Not a decent look, any rate. The most you’d ever get from the likes o’ him would be a guinea—if he was feeling generous. So if you’re thinking as you’ll be offered a slip on the shoulder, you’re giving of yourself airs, gal.”

  “Which shows how much you know,” said Glendenning, raising himself to one elbow. “I would be very pleased to give Amy a slip on the shoulder!”

  She whirled to face him, her mouth very round. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “You don’t mean it! Ye’re just sick and—”

  “I’m much better.” He sat up with a grin and held out his arms. “Come, pretty one. I’ll take good care of you, and proudly, for you’re the loveliest—”

  A strange sound issued from her shapely lips. She ran to him, her arm swung, and the bag of onions slammed against his jaw, smashing him back onto his pillow.

  As from an echoing distance he heard Absalom’s shrieks of laughter interspersed with Amy’s lengthy and singularly uncomplimentary assessment of the Laindon forbears.

  Dazed, he gasped out, “But … I thought you wanted…”

  “Wanted to be your fancy piece?” she shrilled, bending a flushed countenance above him. “What d’ye think, yer worship? That the world’s made up of only two kinds of females? The high and mighty ladies you mustn’t touch till they be safely wed? And the gutter bred, like me, who dream of the day they can have the high honour of being ruinated by lechers like you?”

  Feeling his jaw gingerly, he muttered, “There’s no such word as ruinated. And furthermore, I’m not … a lecher, and would have seen to it that you were well provided for and lived in the lap of luxury for so long as—”

  “As long as I pleased you. And when I wasn’t so young and pretty no more, then ’twould be a kiss and a kick out the door, eh?”