Love Charade Part 12

"So, Linton, how do you suggest we proceed?" March rose from the table once the ladies had withdrawn and went thoughtfully over to the long window overlooking the terrace. The sun was sinking slowly behind the cliff top, filling the sky with a soft pink glow that promised another beautiful day for the morrow.

"With all speed," Linton replied briefly, reaching for the decanter. "A period of mourning will, of course, be necessary, but I think not a full year. The circ.u.mstances of her family's death are sufficiently extreme and the timing unknown by all save ourselves that I feel sure a September wedding would cause no censure. It is possible to be ... uh ... uninformative . . . about the finer details, I think."

"Quite so, Justin." The Earl of March was in no wise surprised by his guest's matter-of-fact statement. It had not occurred to him that a shotgun would be necessary in this delicate affair.

"I think it would be as well to give the impression that Danielle has been with you for some considerable period- certainly since before her parents' death. It will cause no remark and you have been out of town for some time?"

"Since October," March replied. "We shall put it about that Danielle has been paying us an extended visit in preparation for her debut next Season. Perhaps Louise has been in failing health and therefore unable to sponsor her daughter herself?" A slight sigh escaped him-he and his wife had mourned their daughter in the days since receiving Linton's letter, but now the living required their undivided attention.

"That will serve well, sir." Linton looked at the older man, compa.s.sion in his eyes as he understood his thoughts. "I shall drop this information into a few, carefully chosen ears in both London and Paris-the gossips will have it in no time and if news of Languedoc has already reached the French court it will explain the matter of Danielle's survival most satisfactorily."

"And the wedding.. . ?" March queried, raising one eyebrow.

"In London, I think, at the start of the Season. We do not wish any appearance of a hole-in-the-corner affair, any undue haste or secrecy," Linton said slowly. "A quiet ceremony attended only by family in St. George's, Hanover Square, will do very well-Danielle's and your recent tragic loss will explain the lack of pomp. It will be quite unexceptionable."

"And how, Justin, do we explain to my granddaughter that she is to become the Countess of Linton?" March could not resist a soft chuckle as he put this so-important question.

"I think you may safely leave that to me," Justin declared coolly. "On my return will be soon enough. My brat needs some healing time before she is presented with any more shocks."

"She is remarkably quick-witted," March murmured, avoiding Linton's eye. "I am sure she will quickly grasp the principles of a marriage of convenience."

"You mistake the matter, Charles," Justin said gently. "This is to be no marriage of convenience. I will wed Danielle de St. Varennes because I choose to do so, not to preserve my honor or hers."

"Is this to be a love match, then?"

"I have loved your granddaughter since the first evening I met her" was the calm reply. "She is, of course, quite unaware of this fact. I could hardly take advantage of her situation, so have played the part of dictatorial guardian." He shrugged slightly. "She is not, I think, indifferent to me but the woman in her still sleeps. I look forward to the very pleasant task of awakening her." He smiled suddenly. "Have no fear, March. Danielle will come to no harm from me."

"I have no such fear, Justin. We will take good care of her in your absence."

"That I don't doubt," Linton said with a short laugh, "but I think it time she stopped running wild and began to make some excursion into Society."

"Lavinia will arrange that with great enthusiasm, unless I am much mistaken. There are several families in the area who will provide quite unexceptionable contacts for the child so long as she does not develop some 'tendre for the squire's son."

"I shall return with all due haste, March." Linton laughed. "But Danielle, for all her childishness, has a deep core of sophistication that will not, I suspect, allow her to fall prey to the dubious charms of some callow youth."

When Danielle descended to the breakfast parlor very early the next morning she found only Linton. She was not to know that this had been arranged at his request when he had taken leave of his hosts the previous evening and came forward eagerly, her hands full of papers.

"I am glad to find you alone, milord. I have written to Monsieur le Cure and have drawn up some maps. Shall I explain them to you?"

"Certainly." He smiled. She was wearing a rose silk wrapper over her nightgown and looked entrancingly feminine in spite of the short, slightly rumpled curls-except that she was barefoot.

"Where, are your shoes, brat?" He raised his gla.s.s, subjecting her pink toes to an interested scrutiny.

"Oh, I couldn't find them," she declared airily, apparently unmoved by his examination. The earl sighed and gave up the attempt to bring her to a proper sense of confusion and recognition of this solecism.

"This is a map of the village." Danielle stood at his shoulder, leaning over to put the paper beside his plate. "This is the lane from the chateau." It was a beautifully drawn map, cartography clearly being another of her many and varied skills, he reflected distractedly, trying not to react to the sweet fragrance of her skin, the soft pressure of her breast under the thin silk as she leant against his arm.

"Danielle, it is quite impossible for me to eat my breakfast with your arm in the way," he declared suddenly, taking her by the waist and drawing her onto his knee. 'There, that is much better. Now I can eat with one hand and we can put the map to the side, like so. Pray continue."

Danielle stiffened momentarily as a most odd sensation washed over her. His hand was light and warm around her waist, his shoulder firm and supportive at her back, the thighs in their buckskin britches taut and hard-muscled beneath her b.u.t.tocks. She had never been so powerfully aware of another physical presence.

"I... I could sit in the chair beside you, milord," she murmured.

"You could," he agreed cheerfully, spearing a kidney with his fork. "But I am quite comfortable. Are you not?"

She was very comfortable, too comfortable for comfort, but her companion was continuing with his breakfast as if their seating arrangement were the most natural thing in the world. Danielle went on with her explanation.

Afterward, she accompanied him outside to his waiting horse and the post chaise. "Why, milord, where is the mare?"

"I am leaving her for you, brat." He smiled. "But you will ride her sidesaddle-are we agreed?"

The small nose wrinkled. "I will undertake to leam, milord, but I cannot promise never to ride astride."

"I am satisfied, Danielle." He took the reins of the blaek in one hand and smiled down at her, a look in his eye that she had never seen before and that puzzled her mightily-it was almost as if he was seeing someone else; he had certainly never looked at his brat in that way. His next words rea.s.sured her slightly. "You will be good now, won't you?"

"a.s.suredly, sir, for I know what to look forward to on your return if I am not," she murmured demurely, lowering her eyes meekly beneath the long lashes.

"Minx!" A long, gloved finger caught her chin, tipping it upward. "Do not be too sure of anything, mon enfant. I am not known for my predictability." The dark head bent, those firm, curved lips hrushed hers in a featherlike caress so light she wondered afterward if it had ever happened, and the Earl of Linton mounted and without a backward glance rode off down the driveway.

Danielle gathered up the skirt of her wrapper and ran across the dew-wet gra.s.s to the cliff top, watching the procession out of sight behind the bend in the steep path. Her hand, raised in farewell, dropped to her side as she scrunched her bare toes in the damp, rough crabgra.s.s, feeling forlorn and bereft and wondering why.

Chapter 7.

Time pa.s.sed rapidly and Danielle's thin cheeks and skinny body filled under the application of good food, rest, fresh air, and an abundance of love and kindness. She found her excursions into Garnish society tedious in the extreme, the young people boring, ill-educated, and with a sense of humor that she could not help but castigate as puerile and totally unamusing, their elders complacent, smug, stay-at-homes with no understanding of or interest in the world outside their farms, their shooting, and the whisk table. But she tried hard to bridle her impatient tongue and swallow the hasty, sarcastic comments that rose all too frequently to her lips. Her efforts were viewed with sympathy and understanding by her grandparents and her occasional lapses drew no more than the mildest reproof.

Lavinia found to her amazement that this girl/woman was most knowledgeable about the finer points of running a household. With her easy manners and obvious competence she became quickly accepted as a trusted member of the family who could always be relied upon to untangle a knotty domestic problem whether it be the unexplainable disappearance of three pairs of the best bed sheets, a discrepancy in the kitchen accounts, or the awkwardness arising from the housekeeper's niece having inadvertently insulted Lady Lavinia's dresser.

Lord March found an educated mind, a quick brain at the chessboard, and a very skilled cardplayer and soon resigned himself to losing at piquet or chess at least twice as often as he won. When she was discovered in the cellar advising the butler on the readiness of the '73 burgundy he privately decided that for all her unconventional ways she would make Iinton a very lucky husband. This was no schoolroom miss who would fritter away her allowance and her time and bore him with vapid inanities on the rare occasions she chose his company above that of her society friends.

But Danielle was not truly happy. She kept herself occupied because it was not in her nature to repine, but her thoughts were too often with a dark-haired, black eyed, soft-spoken individual. In a strange way she felt him looking over her shoulder and began to judge her actions and words according to how she knew he would react-the amused smile, the approving nod, the slightly raised eyebrow, the brisk rebuke, or the so gently p.r.o.nounced warning.

They heard no news. May 5, the date set for the meeting of the States General, came and went. Danny fretted and fumed, and took to riding out astride the dappled mare from sunup to sundown across the flat countryside and the long deserted beaches.

It was the first week of June before the messenger arrived bearing a short, uninformative note from Linton stating simply that he would arrive at Mervanwey within three days of their receipt of this communication and he hoped he would find them well.

"But he doesn't even say if he reached Languedoc, or what has happened at Versailles... or anything!" Danielle exclaimed in frustration and a fair degree of pique that the terse note had carried no special message for her.

"Patience, my love. You will hear all from Linton himself in just a short time. You are twisting those ribbons into a veritable bird's nest," Lady Lavinia scolded gently. "I will instruct Betsy to make haste with the green silk-it will be just the thing for you to wear to greet His Lords.h.i.+p."

Danielle, however, had other ideas-ideas that were fortunately not imparted to Lady Lavinia who might otherwise have succ.u.mbed for the first time in her sensible life to a fit of the vapors.

Thus it was that in the late afternoon of the third day, Justin, Earl of Linton, traveling this time in the comfort of his own well-sprung coach, was startled out of a deep and exceedingly pleasant reverie concerned with the awakening of the tenderer emotions in the bosom of one Danielle de St. Varennes by the crack of a pistol shot, an alarmed yell from his coachman, and the sudden, violent halt of the conveyance. A quick thought for the wooden box beneath his seat and his own pistol was in his hands as he reached for the door handle. The next instant, a very familiar voice reached his ears.

"For G.o.d's sake, man! You are quite cow-handed. Look to your horses before the leader throws a trace. They would not have plunged like that if you had not jabbed at them in such an idiotish fas.h.i.+on!"

Replacing his pistol in the small pocket of his waistcoat the earl let down the window and regarded the slight figure, still castigating the clumsy coachman, with considerable exasperation.

"Danny, you incorrigible wretch! Come over here this instant."

He couldn't see her face, hidden as it was behind a black silk loo mask, but his eyes were riveted to the still smoking flintlock pistol in her hand.

"How dare you, Danny! Give me that pistol."

Danielle pulled off her mask showing him a pair of brightly laughing eyes. "It is quite all right, milord. I am considered an excellent shot, you should know." And with total ease she slid the pistol back into her belt. "I have been used to handling firearms forever, and if your idiot of a coachman had not reacted so foolishly there would have been no discomfort to anyone. Did you get sadly jolted, sir? I really did not intend for that to happen. I fired well over their heads."

Linton, rendered momentarily speechless, merely looked at her and slowly the laughter faded from her eyes.

"I see you are cross now, milord. It was just a prank, something un peu amusant, n'est-ce-pas?"

"It was not at all amusing," His Lords.h.i.+p informed her bluntly.

"Oh." Her, bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. "It seemed so when I thought of it-to hold you up for my own property. You do have it, do you not, milord?"

Laughter welled deep in Lord Linton's powerful chest but was severely repressed. "I have the property of the Lady Danielle de St. Varennes, nothing that belongs to a hoyden who considers playing at highwayman 'unpeu amusant.' I shall expect to meet with Danielle de St. Varennes within the half hour."

"Perhaps within the hour, sir?" A pair of slender eyebrows arched delicately.

"Certainly no longer."

Danielle tugged her cap down over her eyes, gave him a grin of pure mischief, and turned the dappled mare, riding low over the saddle as they disappeared into the trees bordering the path. "All right, George. If the horses are quieted, pray let us continue."

The coachman leant from from his box peering around the side of the coach. "Just let me get my hands on that lad," he muttered direly. "I'll dust his jacket for him!"

"I know the feeling, George," His Lords.h.i.+p sighed, and pulled up the window again as the coach moved forward.

Lady Lavinia greeted him with pleasure not unmixed with consternation as she confided that Danielle had not been seen all day. "She has been very restless these last weeks-I think the lack of news has bothered her greatly," she explained, taking his arm and leading him into the drawing room.

"I am confident, ma'am, that she will make an appearance very shortly," he replied easily and Her Ladys.h.i.+p was instantly soothed, although she could not imagine why.

Meanwhile, Danielle was tearing off her riding clothes, throwing out a bewildering series of commands to the placid girl a.s.signed to wait on her.

"The pink and white taffeta, Hetty, quickly. No, no, the striped one with the cherry velvet knots. You must do my hair like you did the other night, with the curls over the ears, but I must bathe. Oh, but there is no time, d.a.m.nation! Why did I have that so stupid idea?" Naked, Danielle strode to the porcelain tub and began swiftly to scrub herself, dipping briefly under the water before holding out imperative hands for the towel.

Hetty had long since become used to her young mistress's immodesty in prancing around the chamber in her bare skin, heedless of the sensibilities of a servant girl who believed firmly that bathing was a dangerous business at the best of times and when utterly necessary should be pursued only when clad in an undervest. One did not see oneself naked, let alone allow others to do so! However, waiting on the Lady Danielle was not an arduous task and indeed provided considerable amus.e.m.e.nt, and she was a considerate and most generous mistress who rarely allowed her own low spirits to affect those around her.

It was just within the hour set by the earl when Danielle appeared in the drawing room. Her hair, while still unfas.h.i.+onably short, had grown considerably in the last weeks and was now dressed in soft ringlets caught up over her ears and falling softly to the nape of her neck. A cherry red ribbon threaded its way through the wheat-colored curls adding to the look of demure innocence created by a simple but beautifully cut gown whose low neck was somehow both concealed and accentuated by a lacy collar that slipped over a pair of creamy sloping shoulders to fall in a froth of wide sleeve at her elbow. A lace-edged petticoat peeked tantalizingly from the hem of the gown, drawing the eye to pink and white satin slippers exactly matching the stripes of the dress. Linton's gla.s.s went up with his eyebrows before he turned to Lady Lavinia.

"My compliments, ma'am. You have indeed wrought a transformation."

"Well, of all things!" Danielle exclaimed indignantly. "Am I to receive no credit?"

"When I am a.s.sured that your conduct has undergone a similar transformation, most certainly you will," His Lords.h.i.+p replied dampeningly.

"Danielle, your curtsy, child!" Lady Lavinia spoke hastily in shocked reproof and Danielle, remembering her manners belatedly, sank with a swish of her skirts into a deep salute receiving a most magnificent leg in exchange.

"Why, milord," she twinkled roguishly, "you have never done that to me before."

"I only bow to ladies" was the cool response. "Hoydenish minxes receive other treatment."

A pink tinge stole into her cheeks and the brown eyes held an tppeal he could not resist. "Very well, we will say no more about it, brat. I will put it down to the effects of the full moon which must have run away with your wits."

"Whatever are you talking about?" the countess said in jewilderment.

"Nothing of any consequence, ma'am," Linton replied sasily and then turned at a gasp of delight from Danny. She had opened the carved box resting on the small mahogany table inder the window and was now holding a magnificent diamond necklace to her throat.

"The St. Varennes diamonds," she whispered reverently. 'Are they not magnificent? Maman always said that not even Toinette had such stones as these." She struggled with the ;lasp at the back of her neck but Linton forestalled her, taking the necklace gently but firmly from her hands.

"You may not wear these, Danielle, or the emeralds," he said quietly. "Not until you are a married lady-they are quite unsuitable for a debutante."

"Oh, pshaw!" Danny expostulated. "What nonsense. They are mine after all."

"That is not under dispute." Linton drew out a simple strand of flawless pearls. "Turn around. You may wear these as often as you choose, also the topaz and the turquoise set. The rest must go to the bank for safekeeping."

"But then I shall never wear them," she declared stoutly, "for I shall never be married."

Justin's eyes met those of the Earl and Countess of March over the bent head as he fastened the pearls around her neck. "Now you are being idiotish, Danielle. You will most certainly marry."

"If you are that certain, sir, then perhaps you will also tell me whom I am to marry." She turned, delivering her acid challenge with angry eyes and squared shoulders.

"Why me, of course." The earl spoke calmly, opening his snuff box with deliberation.

There was a short stunned silence and then Danielle stammered, "But . . . but you cannot wish to marry me."

"Why ever not, brat?" He smiled.

"Well that, for one reason," she said, recovering herself somewhat. "People do not marry people they call 'brat' and all sorts of other uncomplimentary names. You are forever telling me what to do and being most unpleasant when I have other ideas, and you have threatened to beat me I don't know how many times .. . and . . . and you even boxed my ears once!" She delivered the coup de grace with the full force of her suddenly remembered indignation.

"Yes, well that was indeed a little hasty of me," the earl said thoughtfully, "but you must admit the provocation was great."

"I do not admit it," Danny cried. "I was not drinking the ale-I find the taste most disagreeable!"

"I appear to be out of my depth here." March broke in suddenly. "What has ale to do with anything?"

"Quite a lot, it seems," Linton murmured. "Come, Danny, if I undertake never to do such a reprehensible thing again will you at least listen to what I have to say?"

Danielle chewed her lip, that deep frown of concentration drawing her delicate brows together, giving her that fierce, serious expression she had worn habitually in her vagabond days. "I think, milord, that your so delicate notions of propriety compel you to offer for me," she began slowly. "It is not at all necessary, you know. My reputation was already hopelessly compromised before you rescued me from the baker. You are perhaps unaware that I have known this for very many weeks, since before I met you, and everything I have done, both before and since, has been in the full knowledge of the consequences. That is why I have said that I will not make my come-out. I shall be quite content to remain here."