Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 07] - Married Past Redemption (31 page)

Intermission came, and everyone adjourned to the large dining
room
where long tables held a tempting array of delicacies, and many small
tables and chairs were set about. Strand seated Lisette at a corner
table and went off to fill a plate for her. Returning, he made his way
through the knot of dashing young gentlemen that had formed about her,
and sat down. Her admirers scattered. Lisette breathed, "What a vicious
thing to have said to me! And you've no reason for jealousy—there has
never been a romance between Leith and me."

"Perhaps." He took up a macaroon and held it to her lips. "But
you
were, like Wellington's rope, about to break. So I tied a knot. You
shall not disgrace me again, madam wife."

Raging, she opened her mouth to retaliate, but he popped the
entire
macaroon into her mouth, then watched with revolting admiration as she
struggled to cope gracefully, her indignation effectively silenced.

The musicale ended, but for Lisette and Strand the masquerade
had
barely begun. Day after day their deception was enacted at dinner
parties, routs,
ridottos,
and balls. They wined
and dined and
danced until the early morning, went home to snatch a few hours of
sleep, then were up again and off to ride in the park. The days were a
whirl of morning calls and callers, shopping or walks, luncheons,
afternoon card parties,
soirees,
or concerts, and
then home to put on their evening finery once more.

Strand seemed tireless, turning his mocking grin on Lisette if
she
dared commence a yawn, so that she would open her sleepy eyes very wide
and fight to conceal her exhaustion. After ten days of this, she was so
tired that when he ushered her into her bedchamber one night, she
murmured a numbed, "Thank you, my dear one," and was mortified when he
chuckled, "Oho, what a
faux pas!
We are quite
alone, ma'am!"

"Whatever the words, sir," she said loftily, "my feelings
remain the same. As do yours for me."

She stole a glance at him from under her lashes and saw a
sadness
come into his eyes. "What a pity it is," he said slowly, "that we
cannot deal together better than this."

Lisette shrugged and strolled over to remove her earrings.
When she
looked up, he had gone, and she sat there, her shoulders slumping,
tired and dispirited. She no longer carried Garvey's poem in her bosom,
for she found of late that it was difficult to meet Strand's eyes when
she did so. Now, she went to the drawer where her handkerchiefs were
kept, and unearthed it from beneath the pile. Once again, the words
brought a deep sigh, a yearning for the might-have-been. Replacing it
slowly, she wondered if James still cared for her, if he sat somewhere
in the great city at this very moment, breaking his heart for her…

Her gaze drifted down the little column of handkerchiefs, all
neatly
ironed, their lace edges so daintily feminine. She did not at once
discern the handkerchief Grandmama had fashioned for her—the last one
she had crocheted before gout made it too difficult for her poor hands.
Dear Grandmama had been used to make such exquisite lace. Because of
her love for the old lady, that handkerchief was particularly dear to
Lisette's heart. She began to search, but without success. Surely she
had not lost it? Upset, she started for the bell pull, but it was
almost three o'clock, she could not disturb Denise at this hour. She
would ask her about it in the morning.

The next morning, however, all thought of the missing
handkerchief
was banished when Lisette awoke to a subdued murmur of activity. For a
moment she lay drowsing, then it came to her that others were already
stirring. She sat up with a start and snatched up the little porcelain
clock from the table beside her bed. Half-past nine! With a gasp, she
tugged on the bell pull and flung back the curtains of the bed. She was
halfway to the window when the door opened and Strand strode in, booted
and spurred. He marched past her, threw open the heavy curtains to
admit a flood of sunlight, and turning to her said briskly, "So you're
awake at last, ma'am!"

She drew herself up. She prided herself on not once having
been late
since her first initiation into his heathen custom of rising with the
dawn. "I wonder you did not come and haul me out of my bed," she said
regally.

His eyes flickered over the revealing nightgown she wore. "It
would
have been worth it, at that," he nodded. "But I judged you needed your
sleep since we return to Sussex today."

Scurrying for a wrapper, Lisette pulled it closer about her.
"You
might have had the common courtesy to tell me!" she expostulated.
"There were things I wished to purchase before we returned to the Hall!"

He frowned. "My apologies. I'd not decided until the day
dawned
fine. Can you send your maid for what you want? We can delay until
eleven, but I would prefer to leave as soon as possible." The door
again opened, and Denise started in, then paused uncertainly. Strand
added a gentle, "Will that suit, my love?"

Lisette motioned to Denise to enter. "Of course," she purred.
"I can
scarce wait to get back to the country again. I'll be as quick as I
can, dear."

He stared down at her, then suddenly bent, and pulling her to
him,
kissed her full on the mouth. For an odd moment, surprise had the
effect of making Lisette feel giddy, so that she instinctively flung
her arms about his neck, to keep from losing her balance. He released
her, but his head remained down-bent, his lips very close as he gazed
into her eyes with an ineffable tenderness. Then, the quirk touching
his mouth for the first time since his confrontation with Garvey, he
murmured, "How's that for acting, ma'am?"

Breathless, she answered, "Not… markedly amateurish, sir."

He nodded. "Probably out of practice." 

A few
subsequent discussions with Lord
Wetherby had caused
Strand to entertain second thoughts regarding the scope of their
nautical undertaking. As a result, he'd sent an urgent letter round to
Ryder Street, inviting the unsuspecting Bolster to accompany them back
into Sussex. His lordship joined them shortly before they were to
depart, and although Strand felt obliged to divulge the trap into which
he had walked, Bolster was far from being dismayed and, in fact,
welcomed the prospect of some hard work.

They set forth, the men riding, Lisette and Judith occupying
the
chaise, and the servants and the luggage following in a large
travelling carriage. The little cavalcade enjoyed good weather for as
far as Croydon, where they stopped to take luncheon at the Red Griffin.
Before they left the famous old posting house, a few dark clouds had
managed to spread over the entire sky and it began to rain. The
gentlemen therefore decided to complete the journey inside the chaise.
Always the best of companions, Bolster started a round tale in an
effort to entertain the younger occupants of the vehicle. He had become
comparatively at ease with them, so that he stuttered less, and having
quite a flair for comedy had them all chuckling at his first chapter.
Looking around at their amused faces, he said, "Chapter Two!" and
pointed at Judith. Delighted, that damsel indulged her flair for the
dramatic so that from a light love story it became full of gloom,
dungeons, and sinister figures slinking about, wrapped in dark cloaks.
Norman was selected as the next story-teller, and he launched with
gusto into Chapter Three, whereupon the principal Evil Tyrant, Baron
Klug, became very evil indeed, pursuing a fair and innocent clergyman's
daughter, causing Sir Roderick, the gallant young hero, a great deal of
misery, and bringing him at length into the very shadow of the
guillotine.

"Lisette!" ordered Bolster.

"Oooh! Do hurry!" cried Judith eagerly. "I can scarce wait to
hear what happens next!"

Lisette decreed that the innocent clergyman's daughter had not
been
standing idly by whilst all this was going on. She had, in fact, by
means of an alluring disguise, gained admission to the dungeons where
languished the hero's brave friends, and had so captivated the gaolers
that she was allowed to take water to the miserable captives.

"An enterprising lass," murmured Strand. "Perhaps she's not
quite as innocent as we thought!"

This brought a laugh from Norman and, from Judith, a scold not
to interrupt.

Continuing with her chapter, Lisette said, "One by one,
Isabelle
lured the guards into the cell where they were swiftly and silently
overcome by the prisoners. Seizing the weapons of their former captors,
Roderick's friends also exchanged their poor rags for the fine uniforms
the guards wore. Then, marching boldly into the square, they forced
their way through the ululating mob to—"

"The—what mob?" Strand interrupted curiously.

"Ululating," said Lisette with a defiant stare.

"What does that mean?"

"You know perfectly well what it means! And if you spoil my—"

"Oh, never mind," Norman put in impatiently. "It means
howling, Justin."

"Thank you," said Strand. "I likely forgot the expression
whilst I was in India. Cannot recall it was widely used over there."

"From what I had heard," said Lisette, trying to restrain a
smile,
"you should have heard lots of ululating. You must have been in a very
dull part."

"Then cheer him up with the rest of this exciting story!"
wailed Judith.

"The—er—ululating mob…" prompted Strand.

"Oh, yes. Isabelle made her way to the guillotine just as poor
Roderick's head was forced onto the block. Baron Klug's hand was
upraised in the signal. The great blade glittered in the torchlight,
and then Isabelle's knife sliced Roderick's bonds, and he sprang to his
feet even as the blade of the guillotine came crashing down. 'Hold!'
cried the Evil Tyrant, and—"

The cry of the Evil Tyrant woke Bolster, who had dozed off in
the
warm carriage. Feeling very remiss in his duties, he yelped, "Chapter
Five—Strand!"

"Good heavens!" cried Strand. "Shoddy Rick flung—"

"Roderick!" Lisette corrected sternly, over Bolster's hilarity.

"My apologies, m'dear. Roderick flung up his knife. The Evil
Tyrant's sword flashed to meet it. And there on the gallows with the
crowd hushed and silent about them, they fought; the blades hissing and
ringing as they engaged, the two men striving in a desperate fight to
the death, the crowd—a sea of upturned faces— lit by the torches'
glare. And then gallant Roderick slipped on the uneven flooring of the
scaffold. With a great sweep of his sword, the Evil Tyrant sent the
dagger spinning from Roderick's hand. The hilt of Klug's sword flashed
upwards and caught brave Roderick beneath the chin. Down he went, like
a sack of meal upon the boards. A mighty roar went up from the
breathless crowd, and—"

"Hey, wait up!" cried Bolster, who had become interested.
"You've got th-things all wrong, old fella."

"I have not," said Strand, affronted. "It's my part of the
story. I can do as I please, can't I, Norman?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"But what became of poor Isabelle?" asked Judith anxiously.

Strand took up Lisette's hand and kissed it. "Oh," he said,
"she
married the Evil Tyrant. It is the way of real life, you know, Judith."
He turned to his wife and, remarking the dimple that swiftly vanished,
asked with his teasing grin, "Ain't that right, beloved?"

With perfect justification, Lisette refused an answer.

Strand Hall was gleamingly impressive in the late afternoon
sunlight. Mrs. Hayward and Fisher came out onto the porch to greet the
family and welcome his lordship, and Brutus went quite berserk, rushing
from one owner to the other, barking madly, and leaping about,
succeeding in muddying everyone until Strand cowed him with a firm
"Down!"
Despite the warm welcome they were accorded, Strand was quick to note
the trace of worry in the eyes of both his butler and housekeeper.
Rumour, he realized, had spread on the usual lightning links between
servants' halls, and his people likely were aware of everything that
had transpired in London.

Since the supplies for the boat venture were to be delivered
at
Silverings, the men left directly after breakfast the following day to
supervise the unloading. Returning to the drawing room after watching
them ride off, Lisette asked Judith what Miss Wallace had said of her
various lengths of material.

"Oh, she thought it very well done," Judith said happily. "We
were
to start on the beige wool half-dress today, but I neglected to buy the
braid, so we'll likely make up the pink velvet instead."

"I
am
sorry, dearest! That wretched
Strand! He rushed us so, I knew we would forget something."

"No, but he has been so good." Judith slipped an arm about her
as
they started to the stairs. "I often think how he has changed all our
lives. Can you credit the difference in my brother? I wonder Strand can
bear it, he pesters him so."

"He does?"

"Why, yes. Have you not noticed how Norman trails after him?
He has
taken your husband for his model, I suspect, and I doubt could have
found a finer one." Slanting an oblique glance at her sister, Judith
read surprise in that lovely face, and added hurriedly, "Norman fairly
badgered Strand to hurry our leaving yesterday, so we can scarce blame
the poor man that I did not have time to purchase my braid."

Lisette pondered those words in the morning when she began to
sort
through the correspondence she'd not had time to attend to the previous
day. She had not known their hurried departure had been the result of
her brother's manoeuvrings, and wished she had not scolded Strand so.
Still, Judith might find less to admire in her brother-in-law did she
know he beat his wife! And afterwards made not the slightest attempt to
woo her forgiveness. The only time he'd really kissed her since the
spanking episode had been in her bedchamber yesterday morning, and that
only to impress Denise. The abigail had immediately left, of course,
but her merry eyes had later conveyed quite clearly that she had seen
that warm embrace. Lisette blushed a little as she remembered the touch
of Strand's lips, the strong hands gripping her shoulders. How
wonderful to be kissed like that by someone who really cared; how
wonderful if so sweet a caress was followed by words of passionate
adoration, instead of being quizzically asked if her husband's acting
was adequate… Did he treat his blond bird of paradise so? Or was there
no need to act with that lady? She frowned and tore an invitation to
fragments without first having read it. He would doubtless have again
sought out his peculiar had he not been so busied with convincing all
London Town that he adored his bride. Now that they were back in
Sussex, however, he would probably lose no time in going to her.
Lisette scowled at the torn scraps of paper between her fingers. Was
that why he had offered to help Norman work on the boat? She'd thought
it an excessively kind gesture, but perhaps it was merely a means to
leave his wife while he consoled his amour. If truth be told, Strand
actually meant to spend very little time at—