Scandalous Again Page 11

  Thomasin cast her a sideways glance. “For someone who’s been a companion all of your life, you’re quite pert.”

  Madeline sat up straight. “Pert? In what way?”

  “Well . . . in that way. Your tone isn’t comparable with a servant.” Thomasin’s nose twitched as she thought. “You don’t act like a servant.”

  Oh, dear. What was it Eleanor had said? One can only be a companion if one is not prompted to give one’s opinion on every subject. If one is not moved to arrange things and people, if one is not given to the habit of command.

  “On the walk over here,” Thomasin continued, “you spoke very frankly to Lord Campion.”

  The girl was not as unobservant as Madeline might have wished. “He and I are old acquaintances. The duchess and he—”

  “Were betrothed. I know. So you’ve said. But apparently you feel quite free with him—and he with you.”

  The back of Madeline’s neck prickled. Gabriel had seated himself behind her, and without even looking, she knew he had watched her through luncheon. Merde! How he did vex her with his constant, none-too-silent observation.

  What did he think to accomplish by this harassment? She frowned.

  What did he hope to accomplish? “I’ll take more care in the future to behave in a proper manner.”

  “Don’t bother on my account,” Thomasin answered. “I find it fascinating to hear you two quarrel so robustly.”

  “We don’t quarrel, and it was not robustly. We simply discuss matters in an emphatic way.” And, Madeline realized too late, she shouldn’t have corrected Thomasin in such a manner. Such behavior was exactly what Eleanor admonished her about.

  Madeline had to put a stop to this conversation else she betray herself completely. In a mannered tone, she said, “If you don’t like to sketch, I see that some of the young ladies and gentlemen are practicing archery, and some are playing croquet.”

  Thomasin collapsed into a fit of giggles. “See? Even when you’re trying to sound like a companion, you say the wrong thing. If I wish to question you, you’re not supposed to change the subject.”

  “I knew that.” Certainly Eleanor never changed any subject Madeline had chosen to bring up.

  With a glance along the cliffs, Thomasin groaned. “Lord Hurth is headed this way.”

  Never had Madeline been happier to have a conversation interrupted. “Smile! He’s going to ask you if you’d like to walk with him or watch him play lawn tennis.”

  Thomasin did smile, but spoke out of the side of her mouth. “He’s handsome, but rather too impressed with his own importance.”

  “He’s excessively eligible. It would make your stepmama ecstatic should he court you.”

  Thomasin peeked back at her parents, who lolled in the shade of the tent. Her father chatted with the other gamblers, but her stepmother observed her with a gimlet gaze. “I walked with Lord Hurth part of the way here, and he’s a pompous bore.”

  “Those who live at Hurth Manor have that reputation.”

  “He uses a hundred words when ten will do, and when he’s not talking about himself, he’s talking about his activities or his clothes or his family, which is apparently the finest, oldest and most respected in all Britain.” Thomasin inspected him as he drew near. “And don’t you find that costume vulgar?”

  Hurth’s gold leather short boots matched his gold-striped cut-away jacket, and his royal blue padded waistcoat sported a gold trim of such contrast the sight gave Madeline a headache. His tall collar points were starched so stiffly he could scarcely turn his head, and the way he moved suggested he wore a corset around his waist to give the fashionably nipped-in look. All in all, a dandy with execrable taste. “I think when a man will inherit the title of marquess, a large fortune and some of the finest racehorses in the country, he can make his own style.”

  “So you do think he’s vulgar,” Thomasin deduced.

  “I’m not an arbiter of sophistication.”

  “I think you are,” Thomasin said shrewdly.

  Madeline stared out as the terns hovered, then dove into the waves, and pretended she didn’t know what Thomasin meant.

  “Hurth spoke to me of his horses.”

  “Really?” That was good news. “You must have impressed him. Hurth’s family is horse-mad, and only deigns to discuss their breeding lines with intimates.”

  “I did what you instructed. I fluttered my eyelashes, I asked questions as if I were interested and once I lightly touched him on the arm.”

  “Apparently, it all worked. And surely you are interested in horses. Doesn’t Jeffy’s family breed them?”

  Thomasin looked embarrassed. “Yes, but I don’t relish hearing about them.”

  Madeline contrived to appear surprised. “But that will make your married life rather dull.”

  “Jeffy usually doesn’t talk to me of horses. Usually he talks about my hair and my smile.”

  “How sweet.” How insipid.

  “Yes. Here is Lord Hurth. I shall make you pay for your good advice.” Extending her hand, Thomasin dimpled up at the bowing Hurth. “My lord, how good to see you again.”

  “I was hoping that you and, of course, your companion would care to take a stroll along the cliffs.” Hurth combed through his side-whiskers with his fingers. “You were so interested in the evolution of the medieval horse into its modern, more delicate and faster descendant, I thought I could clarify the matter for your edification.”

  “How marvelous of you to think of me.”

  Without an ounce of sensitivity, he agreed. “Yes, isn’t it?”

  Thomasin rolled her eyes at Madeline, allowed him to help her to her feet.

  Madeline scrambled up on her own. Hurth was as much of a bore as ever a Hurth could be, with a consequence much exceeding his charm. Yet nothing could ever convince a Hurth he wasn’t the grandest of creatures, and if he decided to woo Thomasin, he would be difficult, if not impossible, to shake.

  Well. Thomasin might temporarily suffer, but his attentions could be turned to their advantage.

  Yet Madeline’s compassion for the girl lasted only until Thomasin led them toward the tree that sheltered the lounging Gabriel.

  “Lord Campion, we’re going for a stroll, and my companion is without an escort.” Thomasin didn’t even have to finish her invitation.

  Gabriel rose and bowed. “A delightful day for a walk. With your permission, Lady Thomasin, I’ll join you.”

  “Wonderful!” Clapping her hands, Thomasin cast an impish glance at the fuming Madeline.

  In a roguish manner that sat ill with him, Hurth wagged his finger. “I’ve claimed Lady Thomasin, Campion, but if you want the companion, you may have her.”

  A maddening smile formed on Gabriel’s lips. “I’m enchanted to walk with the companion.”

  Hurth never comprehended his incivility, although Thomasin looked as if she might give him one of her set-downs.

  Madeline shook her head at the girl. Madeline could take care of herself, and indeed, someday Hurth would feel her wrath—although he would probably never comprehend what he had done to deserve it. She had known that aristocrats paid servants no heed; she thought, for the purpose of her masquerade, indifference would work in her favor. But such a blatant insult offended her, and the contrast to Gabriel made her grind her teeth. She would not be grateful to Gabriel for his consideration. Yet she could not speak her mind or ignore him or snub him, no matter how much she wished to. She needed this opportunity to speak to him about the information Big Bill had given her—and about retrieving the queen’s tiara. So she followed Hurth and Thomasin along the winding path overlooking the beach.

  Tucking his hands behind his back, Gabriel paced along beside Madeline. “You have quite an interesting expression on your face. Rather as if you were chewing on gristle.”

  They walked out of sight of the tents, onto a wild patch of ground that slowly descended toward rolling hills. Golden samphire bloomed in small bright patches, blue butterflies f
luttered from blossom to blossom and no one could hear what she had to say. No one except the couple ahead of them. The sound of Hurth’s monotonous voice drifted back on every breeze, so Madeline dawdled just enough to allow them to walk out of earshot, yet not out of sight. “It’s nothing.”

  Obviously, Gabriel didn’t believe her. “Pay no attention to Hurth. He’s the kind of man who kicks his grandmother’s dog when she’s not looking.”

  Madeline stopped in the path. “Do you know that?”

  “Jerry saw him. Later, Jerry beat the stuffing out of Hurth.” The faintest of smiles drifted over Gabriel’s lips. “Accidentally.”

  When Madeline had known Jerry, he’d been happy about his brother’s engagement and, at the hint of an invitation, tagging along after them. For the most part, she and Gabriel had been careful not to issue invitations. They had wanted to be alone, or as much alone as any two courting people could be, and the presence of an excitable, if beloved, brother had been too much. “I’m glad Jerry took care of Hurth. I just wish . . .” Stupid sentiment, to wish he were still alive. To wish she’d been kinder to him.

  Yet Gabriel understood. “So do I. I miss him, too.”

  There it was again. A past they shared, an empathy that needed no words. She didn’t want this, but such rapport wasn’t so easily dismissed.

  That rapport was exactly the reason why she felt that she must confide Big Bill’s conversation to Gabriel. Gabriel wouldn’t dismiss her fears, and he had the power to act on the information. In a lowered voice, she said, “I beg your pardon for my comments on our previous walk. I hadn’t realized that you’d taken part in organizing the coastal defense. You obviously made good use of your time while I was gone.”

  “Apologizing for vivisecting my character, Maddie?” He gave the appearance of odious amusement. “You must want something.”

  She did, of course, and the way he called her on it put her back up. “No! Rather, I have something to tell you. On the way over, Big Bill—”

  “Big Bill?”

  “Mr. Rumbelow’s servant,” she explained.

  “Ah. The one you were walking with. The one who swaggers and conceals a pistol in his belt.”

  She paused, one foot in the air. “Really? A pistol?”

  “Did you think he was a good man and a humble servant?”

  “No, and if you would just be quiet a moment, I’ll tell you why.”

  Gabriel was quiet. Very quiet.

  She realized he had once more goaded her into thoughtless speech. How did he do it? Always digging at her, always prodding and examining the results like a boy performing an experiment. She responded only too often—even now her temper stirred her blood—and she had that wretched favor to ask. Reining in her irritation, she said, “Big Bill told me something which I believe is an indication of trouble.”

  “Trouble follows you, my dear Maddie.”

  She gritted her teeth. “He told me that Mr. Rumbelow is not from the Lake District, but from Liverpool.” She waited for Gabriel to show amazement, but he did no more than watch her loftily. Determined to shake his composure, she added, “He said they’d been raised together, and that Mr. Rumbelow had been almost hanged!”

  Gabriel strolled on as if he had not a care in the world. “Have you told anyone else?”

  “I just found out myself.” Then she realized what his lack of inflection must mean. “You knew about this?”

  “Let’s say . . . I’m not surprised.”

  Trying to gather her equanimity, she looked out at the ocean, then back at the man who she had imagined would . . . would rescue Mr. Rumbelow’s guests from possible harm. “We have to do something.”

  “We?”

  “These men are very possibly criminals.”

  “Without a doubt they’re criminals, and we aren’t doing anything.”

  “Murderous criminals. Big Bill said he disposed of a corpse one time.”

  Gabriel nodded so calmly, it was clear he still didn’t understand.

  “We’re in danger,” she expounded. “You’re in danger.”

  “I can handle myself. It’s you who are the wild card.”

  As revelation struck, she tripped over a stone in the path.

  Catching her arm, he set her on her feet, then withdrew his touch and once more walked beside her, his hands tucked behind his back like the gentleman he most certainly was not.

  He did understand, she realized. He’d always known about Mr. Rumbelow. “That’s why you came to the game. You’re planning something.”

  “I thought you said I came to the game because I’m an irrational gamester.”

  She dismissed that with a wave. “Never mind what I said. That explains why Big Bill’s been set to watch you!”

  “Yes, and he’s not very good at it.”

  “You knew that, too?”

  Gabriel reported, “I can safely say I’ve been boring him to death.”

  She started to glance behind them, but Gabriel shook his head at her. “Rumbelow will rein him in now. After all, what could I do when accompanied by two ladies and another nobleman? Big Bill should have been watching MacAllister last night, but I’ll not tell him that.”

  She could scarcely contain her excitement. “MacAllister is helping you? Let me help you, too.”

  “This requires a keen eye and a knowledge of the game.” He smiled mockingly. “In fact, it requires one of those dread creatures, a gambler.”

  She ignored that. He was simply digging at her. “I could help in another capacity. I’m a good shot.”

  “That you are. I’ve seen you shoot. But I hope it won’t come to that.”

  She’d seen that stubborn expression on his face before. He wasn’t yielding. So she would have to watch and help surreptitiously, as her chance came. “What is your scheme?”

  “To thwart Rumbelow’s nefarious plan—whatever that might be.”

  She deduced, “You know he has a nefarious plan, but you don’t know what it is.”

  “Nefarious plans are his specialty.” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and had the gall to look amused. “Give it up, Maddie, I’m not telling, and you’re not going to help.”

  A thought occurred to her. “I can’t see you going about the countryside saving people from their own foolishness.”

  “Nor can I. It’s a good way to get killed.”

  “So why are you involved?”

  “That’s none of your concern.” His indifference was complete and exasperating.

  On the path in front of them, Thomasin looked around as if to check their progress. “Is all well? Isn’t this walk lovely?” she called, and threw Madeline an agonized glance.

  Hurth glowered as if the interruption displeased him, and at once returned to his droning speech.

  Madeline felt no pity. After inviting Gabriel along on this walk, Thomasin deserved every moment of stultifying boredom she suffered.

  She didn’t, however, deserve to be injured by a dreadful criminal. “We should tell everyone that they’re in danger from Mr. Rumbelow.”

  Gabriel grabbed her elbow and pulled her to a halt on the headland. “No, we shouldn’t, and you won’t. I forbid it. You won’t ruin this setup. I’ve spent most of the past year putting the idea in Rumbelow’s head, and if you rock the boat now, people are going to get killed. Just trust me. And go home.”

  “Depart?” His brusque command startled her. She hadn’t thought that, once Gabriel had her in his power, he would let her go so easily. “How can I leave Thomasin and the others? They’re in danger.”

  “No. I have matters under control.”

  “What kind of control?”

  “Would you just trust me?”

  “Of course,” she said in surprise. If Gabriel had a plan, she could be sure it was a good one.

  He hesitated. “Then leave.”

  “Not as long as that tiara is in jeopardy.” Hurth and Thomasin were still within sight, so she was still fulfilling her duty as companion. Taking
a fortifying breath, she said, “Papa’s not here yet.”

  “He’s not coming, so depart.”

  “Why should I? I shall take care to remain safe from danger, and I’ll keep Thomasin safe, too. In addition, I have every reason to believe Papa will show up. He even sent the queen’s tiara ahead as ante.” She waited for Gabriel to say something, to give her an opening to beg his help.

  His eyelashes barely flickered. “Foolish of him, but considering who he is, not surprising.”

  “You shouldn’t speak that way about my father.” Not that it wasn’t the truth. That was why she didn’t dare do the wise thing and abandon Chalice Hall. Even when she was with him, Papa reliably got in trouble, and look at the grand trouble he got her into when she left the country!

  “I beg your pardon.” Gabriel’s brows pulled together in a scowl. “You don’t insult my family. I shouldn’t insult yours.”

  “I could never insult Jerry.” She smiled in fond remembrance. “He was charming.”

  “And young. Very young. Very foolish.” Gabriel changed the subject with so little finesse, it was obvious he still couldn’t speak of his brother without pain. “You wanted to ask my help, I believe.”

  Hurth and Thomasin walked unhurriedly, while Hurth educated Thomasin about something that appeared very important—or at least, important to him. Madeline slowed down yet further to lengthen the distance between the couples. “I need you to win that tiara for me.”

  Gabriel stopped walking. “Ah, is that what all this appearance of affection is about?”

  She flashed, “It’s not affection, it’s merely tolerance.” Then she remembered that a little adulation wouldn’t come amiss, and added, “I don’t want you dead.”

  “Just knocked about a bit.” His hand caressingly slid up her arm to her shoulder, and he leaned close enough to stare into her eyes. “You don’t approve of gamblers, yet you need me now. Poor Maddie, it must have choked you to ask.”

  So he wasn’t going to be pleasant about this. A strand of Madeline’s hair escaped and fluttered about her face.