‘You bewilder me,’ said his Grace. ‘Are we speaking of your lost jewel, or my plans – or both? I should warn you that I am something of a judge of precious stones, dear Comte.’
‘Yes, m’sieur?’ The flush mounted to Saint-Vire’s face again. ‘It is possible that you are labouring under a delusion, M. le Duc. The game is not played out yet.’
‘By no means,’ said the Duke. ‘Which reminds me that I have not inquired after your so enchanting son. Pray how does he?’
The Comte showed his teeth.
‘He is very well, m’sieur. I feel no anxiety on his behalf. Your servant!’ Th
e door shut with a slam.
‘The so dear Comte!’ murmured Avon.
‘Monseigneur, you did not do anything to him!’ cried Léonie. ‘I thought that you would punish him!’
‘Ma fille, the day comes when I shall punish him,’ answered Avon, and threw down his fan. His voice had changed, and sounded harsh in Léonie’s ears. ‘And there will be no mercy for him at my hands.’
Léonie looked at him in awe and some admiration.
‘You look quite angry, Monseigneur!’
His glance came to rest on her face. He went to her, and taking her chin in his hand, looked deep into her eyes. They smiled trustfully up at him. Abruptly he released her.
‘I have reason, child. You have seen a villain to-day.’
‘Yes, a pig-person,’ she nodded. ‘You won’t let him take me again, will you, Monseigneur?’
‘No, my infant. He shall never again have you in his clutches. That I swear.’
She frowned, watching him.
‘You seem different, Monseigneur, I think. You are not angry with me ?’
The grimness left his mouth, and he smiled.
‘It would be impossible, my dear. We will go now and solace Rupert’s boredom.’
Twenty-two
The Arrival of Another Player in the Game
Monday came and went with no sign of Gaston or his charges. His Grace frowned, but Léonie danced with delight, and offered the suggestion that Madame Field had died of agitation.
‘It does not seem to worry you over-much,’ said Avon dryly.
‘No, Monseigneur. I think we are happy without her. What shall we do to-day?’
But the Duke was not pleased. Rupert looked up at him with a grin.
‘Never known you so mindful of the proprieties before, Justin, stap me if I have!’
He encountered a cold glance, and was instantly solemn.
‘No offence, Avon, no offence! You can be as prudish as you like for aught I care. But she’s not.’
‘Léonie,’ said his Grace crushingly, ‘is as feather-brained as you, or nearly so.’
‘Egad,’ said Rupert irrepressibly. ‘I thought we’d not bask much longer in the sunshine of your approval.’