Mademoiselle At Arms - Elizabeth Bailey (best 7 inch ereader TXT) 📗

sanctuary, it raises grave doubts about his activities.’

‘Well, but he was a deserter, you see. That is very bad, certainly, and for this he was extremely sorry. It was a duel, you understand, and that is not permitted.’

‘A pretty tale. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune.’

‘Yes, that is what he said,’ agreed Melusine, pleased to find him of so ready an understanding.

‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. ‘You don’t even know what it means, do you?’

Melusine frowned. ‘Comment? What do you say?’

Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had hero-worshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. But she had loved the man. Loved his memory still, for all he knew. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her.

‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. ‘But tell me this instead. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out.’

Melusine’s eyes flashed. ‘That is not your affair. En tout cas, no one has asked you to puzzle out anything at all. Least of all myself.’

‘Yes, but I’m hanged if I see what your game is.’

‘I have no game.’

‘Your plan, then. Why are you doing all this?’

To his surprise, Melusine relaxed back, emitting a laugh that sounded perfectly genuine.

‘But that is easy. It is so that I may marry an Englishman. Why else?’

Gerald stared at her blankly. ‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’

Melusine shrugged. ‘That I do not yet know. I shall have to discover one suitable.’

Taken aback, Gerald let out a short laugh. ‘Don’t be so absurd.’

‘It is you who is absurd,’ countered Melusine, the spark returning to her eye. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies. Now when I tell you exactly the truth, you will also not believe me.’

‘Because I have never heard anything so ridiculous,’ Gerald announced. ‘You escape from your own convent, at great personal danger. You come to England, and hide in a secret convent in London. You break into a gentleman’s residence—’

‘I did not break in.’

‘Don’t interrupt me! You break into a gentleman’s residence, I say, and hold up two members of His Majesty’s peacekeeping forces with a pistol. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. You skulk in shadows, following an émigré. You come to visit a completely different gentleman at his home. And you tell me that the reason you are doing all this is so that you can marry an Englishman!’

Melusine giggled. ‘When you say it like this, certainly it appears absurd. As absurd as that you take this interest in my affairs. But it is the truth.’

‘Then who is this Englishman?’ demanded Gerald on a sceptical note. ‘Some ineligible that your parents would not tolerate, I suppose.’

‘Ah.’ There was satisfaction in Melusine’s voice. ‘That was one of my own clever stories.’

Gerald frowned in an effort of memory, and then laughed as he recalled one of the lies she had invented for his benefit. ‘So it was.’

‘And it is very stupid of you to think of such a thing, because in this case, why should I seek out my family?’

Triumph rose in Gerald’s breast, but he took care to conceal it. That was an admission all right.

‘You are not the only one to seek them out,’ he said.

‘Do you think I do not know? If this pig has not done so, there would be no need for me to do it. I do not wish to seek them out, en effet.’

‘Will you go back there?’ asked Gerald. ‘To see Charvill.’

She sighed. ‘I must, for that the pig has already gone to monsieur le baron.’

‘You mean Valade? Don’t be downhearted. Charvill does not believe the general will accept them.’

She seemed to recollect herself suddenly. ‘Parbleu, how you make me talk!’

‘Your secret is safe with me, I promise you,’ Gerald said reassuringly.

The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. He looked about for his hat, and put it on. Then, seeing Melusine’s feathered beaver had fallen to the floor, picked that up for her.

She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. ‘Allow me.’ He fitted the hat onto her head, and was aware as he did so of her eyes watching his face. He looked down and met them.

‘Merci,’ Melusine said, and smiled.

Gerald’s breath caught. But before he could say anything, the vehicle rolled to a halt. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. Hastily, he reached for the door. As he turned the handle, it moved, and the door was taken from his hand and pulled outward by the young footman.

‘Ah, yes,’ Gerald said, jumping down from the coach and waiting for the fellow to let down the steps for Melusine, ‘I had forgotten about you.’ He held out his hand to help the girl descend. ‘I suppose this is the cavalier you had with you when you—er—attended the ball the other night?’

‘Jacques is very useful to me,’ Melusine confirmed, bestowing that same radiant smile on the young man, whose features were instantly suffused with scarlet. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. ‘And now, monsieur le major—’

‘I will see you to the door,’ Gerald said, looking with interest at the building that his observant groom had told him housed a small collection of nuns. He glanced up at the coachman. ‘Wait for me.’

Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. It opened and a nun’s head popped out.

‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. ‘Come inside at once, child. I’ve been on the watch for you.’

‘But why, Marthe,’ asked Melusine, as she walked into the house.

Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder.

‘I want a word with you, my lad. Await me in the coach.’

Without stopping for a response, Gerald pushed past him and entered the convent just in time to hear Melusine protesting.

‘I have told you I will take Jacques. There was no need to be afraid for me.’

‘It’s not that,’ the nun said urgently, ‘but I’ve remembered something important.’

‘Truly?’ Melusine said excitedly. ‘Speak, then.’

But the nun’s eyes had caught Gerald behind and she took instant umbrage. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again. Oh, what have you been about now?’

‘There is no need to be concerned. Mademoiselle has had no harm of me,’ Gerald said soothingly and bowed. ‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia.’

‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled.

‘Why have you come in here?’ demanded Melusine, turning on him. ‘This is not a place for a man. You will go out at once, if you please.’

She fairly pushed at Gerald, who grinned and gave in, moving back to the still open door. He stepped out but, rather to his surprise, found Melusine following him. She pulled the door so that it was not quite to, and held out her hand, palm up.

Gerald looked at it, then at her face. ‘Is that a gesture of friendship?’

She stamped her foot. ‘It is nothing at all of the kind. Give me my pistol and my dagger.’

Gerald hissed in a doubtful breath. ‘I don’t know that I dare.’

‘But you must. How will I protect myself if you do not?’

‘If you will only confide in me, I will be happy to protect you,’ Gerald said cheerfully.

‘You cannot be always with me. How can you protect me? Moreover, it is stealing that you have done, and therefore—’

‘Don’t tell me you expect me to arrest myself again.’

Melusine giggled. ‘Imbecile.’ Then she came closer and put her hand on his chest so that it rested on the braid that decorated his scarlet coat. ‘Gérard—’

‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. ‘Cajolery? This is not your style.’

Melusine hit lightly at his chest. ‘Do not be foolish. You see, it is that I begin to like you, even that you are of this disposition extremely interfering. But I do not know you at all, in truth, and I do not understand why you do this.’

‘Because I like you, of course,’ Gerald said promptly. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. What are you after?’

‘But my pistol and dagger, imbecile,’ she exclaimed impatiently, moving sharply back.

‘I doubt very much whether they are yours at all. In fact, it would not surprise me to discover that they were both Leonardo’s.’

‘But he gives them to me.’

‘Willingly?’

‘Parbleu, what a person you think me.’

‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. A little darling? Lord in heaven, he had taken leave of his senses. Her voice recalled him.

‘Quick, Gérard. Before Marthe will become impatient and come out. She will die if she knows I have a gun.’

‘Very well, Melusine, you win,’ Gerald said unguardedly, and dug his hand into his pocket.

Her mouth at half-cock, Melusine stood there staring at him. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them.

His expression altered. ‘What is the matter?’

‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly.

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Why, what have I said?’

‘You said to me my name.’

His features relaxed again and he grinned. ‘I told you I would find out all about you, Melusine.’ His finger came out and Melusine felt it stroke her cheek. A shiver slid down inside her. ‘It’s a pretty name. As pretty as its owner.’ Then he bowed, raising his hat in salute and, crossing to the coach, spoke briefly to its driver and leapt into it without looking back.

Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience.

‘Who is that man? What has he to do with you? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.’ She grasped the girl’s arm. ‘Anyhow, never mind that now. Melusine, I’ve remembered something that may help you. You’ll have to go back to Remenham House.’