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

class="msobodytextfirstindent">‘I thought so,’ Gerald said with satisfaction. ‘Jarvis Remenham was your mother’s father.’

She bit her lip, frowning. ‘How did you guess?’

‘I guessed as soon as you said this was your house. Didn’t I say that this whole business of your camping in Remenham House was the one aspect I could not puzzle out?’

‘You are very clever, monsieur Gérard,’ she conceded, although Gerald was amused by the grudging note, ‘but in truth it is not yet my house. I do not know how I shall get it, but I must, you understand.’

‘Why must you?’ asked Gerald calmly.

Melusine opened her eyes at him. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. That is not reasonable.’

‘Not if you want one of good family, no,’ he agreed mildly. ‘Unless he is himself a man of substance.’

‘Even that he is, one must be practical. For that such a man does not mind about the dowry, he must be in love en désespoir. And even if that,’ she added bitterly, ‘he must be also a person of a disposition extremely mad, that he can go against the family.’

‘Like your father,’ Gerald put in deliberately.

Her eyes flashed. ‘Exactly like my father. Only my father he is also of a disposition extremely stupide. And it is all for his behaviour tout à fait imbecile, and that of monsieur le baron his father entirely unforgiving, that I am put at this need to come myself and get a dowry that I may marry in all honour. And an Englishman, which is my right of birth.’

She turned and swept away from him, pacing the length of the room to the window Gerald had unshuttered. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror.

Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. So this was what it was all about. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another.

‘Well then, Melusine,’ he said calmly, ‘it seems as if we must get you your dowry willy-nilly.’

She turned, her eyes narrowed. ‘We?’

Gerald smiled. ‘Precisely. You may command my services at any time. I told you that at the outset.’

‘No.’ She advanced towards him. ‘I do not command your services, mon major. I do not command the services of a person who will not tell me why he offers them.’

Gerald moved to the long sofa, dusted it with elaborate care with one of its cushions, and with a gesture invited her to sit down. Melusine approached with caution and sat warily at one end, looking up at him expectantly. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face.

‘Eh bien?’

‘You are perfectly right, Melusine. It is quite outrageous of me to go about rescuing a damsel in distress—’

‘Who does not in the least wish to be rescued,’ put in Melusine.

‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. ‘So I shall do so.’ He sighed, spread his hands quite in her own manner, and fluttered his lashes.

To his intense satisfaction, Melusine bit her lip on a tremor.

‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom. And the opportunity to share in your exciting adventures was just too tempting to be put aside.’

A derisive snort greeted this passage.

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald.

‘Do not beg my pardon. I know well that you are making a game with me.’

‘I swear to you, it is the exact truth,’ he protested. ‘You have no idea how dull the militia is compared to the Army. I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands.’

‘Estate? But are you not obliged to do this work of the milice?’ asked Melusine, her eyes round.

Gerald grinned. ‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. But sadly, at Lullingstone we are too far off the coast to be of use. It would have given me intense satisfaction to have been able to catch a French spy.’

‘That is what you thought of me.’

‘Yes, but in fact you’ve offered me far more entertainment than any French spy could have done. And that’s why I’m at your service. Now do you see?’

Melusine frowned. ‘I do not see at all. It seems to me very silly.’

‘So did your business about marrying an Englishman seem to me,’ Gerald returned. ‘Until today.’

‘And why are you not married,’ she demanded suddenly, ‘if it is that you have land?’

Gerald grimaced. ‘I’ve never found a woman who did not drive me into a frenzy of boredom.’

‘But what age are you? Do you not require an heir?’ Melusine asked, her tone shocked.

‘I am nine-and-twenty,’ he answered. ‘As for an heir, I have Alderley cousins enough.’ He sat up. ‘While we’re on the subject of age, it may be relevant to your claim to this house. How old are you?’

‘I have nineteen years, and it is quite unimportant. Marthe has told me that the house comes to my mother, Ma—ry Re—men—ham.’ She pronounced the name with painstaking accuracy, Gerald noticed. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. For it cannot be that this Jarvis will leave the house to my father. That is not reasonable. But there is need for the proof that I am me, and that is what I look for.’

She jumped up, and moved impatiently to the door. ‘Has this capitaine of yours not yet rid us of this Emile? What can he find to say to him?’

‘Don’t be impatient,’ Gerald said, rising too and coming to draw her away from the door. ‘Keep still, for God’s sake! Hilary will send him off all right and tight, never fear.’

Melusine shook him off. ‘But do you not see that he will come again? I think it is better if you, both of you, go and leave me here to find—’ She broke off, looking away.

‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald. ‘What is this proof?’

‘I will not tell you.’

‘Hang it, Melusine!’ Losing patience, Gerald seized her by the arms. ‘I’ve had enough of this. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’

‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him.

‘Left to yourself, my girl, you may not have any affairs. Can’t you see that Valade is an extremely dangerous man?’

‘Do you think I am afraid of that pig?’

Gerald gave her a little shake. ‘You should be. That he’s come here at all shows he’ll stop at nothing. The minute he discovers Roding here, he’ll know something is up. Why would militia be infesting the place? And he must by now be aware of my interest. He may not know you’re in England, but if he has the smallest knowledge of your character, he must surely be expecting you. How long do you think it will take him to put two and two together?’

‘Eh bien, then if he will try to harm me, I will kill him.’

‘You may not get the chance.’ He let her go. ‘Now be sensible, Melusine, and let me help you.’

She tossed her head. ‘Me, I do not need the help of anyone.’

‘Oh, don’t you?’ Gerald said grimly. ‘Do you think because you’ve managed to pull a gun on me—not to mention several daggers and a vicious little knife—that you can get away with it against a man who means business?’

‘Do you think that the trigger I would not have pulled, or stuck the dagger into you, if you had not been as you are?’ she countered.

Gerald’s temper flared. ‘You little fool! I’m a trained soldier with ten years experience at my back. I’ve more than twice your strength and at least ten times your cunning, when it’s needed. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat.’

‘That is what you think? Let us try!’

‘Don’t be idiotic!’

She was backing from him, reaching through one of the slits she had carefully manufactured in her petticoat. ‘I can take care of myself, bête.’

Exasperated, Gerald glared at her. ‘You obstinate little devil. I’m minded to take a whip and beat some sense into you.’

‘Pah!’ scoffed Melusine. ‘I have told you, a whip it is nothing. The nuns, they were very good with a whip. You do not make me afraid like this.’

The dagger was in her hand. Gerald lost his head.

‘Then mayhap this will persuade you!’

With a scrape of steel, he drew his sword from its scabbard. Melusine cast one swift glance at it, and her eyes, flashing magnificently, came back to his face. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat.

‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control.

Melusine’s eyes blazed into his. Then her fingers moved. Pain sliced into Gerald’s hand and his sword arm jerked. The sharp point of the sword at the girl’s throat bit sideways. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck.