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‘I am afraid –’ began Jennifer uncomfortably.

‘His Grace and I do not visit,’ ended Merivale.

Léonie flung up her hands.

‘Oh, parbleu! Everyone I meet is the same! It does not surprise me that sometimes Monseigneur is wicked when everybody is so unkind to him.’

‘His Grace has a way of making it difficult for one to be – er – kind to him,’ said Merivale grimly.

‘M’sieur,’ answered Léonie with great dignity, ‘it is not wise to speak thus of Monseigneur to me. He is the only person in the whole world who cares what happens to me. So you see I will not listen to people who try to warn me against him. It makes something inside me get all hot and angry.’

‘Mademoiselle,’ said Merivale, ‘I crave your pardon.’

‘I thank you, m’sieur,’ she said gravely.

She came often to Merivale after that, and once dined there with Madam Field, who had no knowledge of the rift between Avon and Merivale.

A fortnight passed, bringing no word from Justin, but at the end of it a travelling coach, loaded with baggage, arrived at Merivale, and a tall young exquisite leaped out. He was admitted into the house and met by Jennifer, who laughed when she saw him, and held out both her hands.

‘Why, Rupert! Have you come to stay?’

He kissed her hands, and then her cheek.

‘Devil take it, Jenny, you’re too lovely, ’pon my soul you are! Lord, here’s Anthony! I wonder if he saw?’

Merivale gripped his hand.

‘One of these days, Rupert, I’ll teach you a lesson,’ he threatened. ‘What’s to do? You’ve brought enough baggage for three men.’

‘Baggage? Nonsense, man! Why, there’s only a few things there, I give you my word! One must dress, y’know, one must dress. Anthony, what’s this fandangle about Justin? Fanny’s devilish mysterious, but the tale’s all over town that he’s adopted a girl! Stap me, but that’s –’ He broke off, remembering Jennifer’s presence. ‘I’ve come down to see for myself. God knows where Justin is! I don’t.’ He looked sharply at Merivale, consternation in his face. ‘He’s not at Avon, is he?’

‘Calm yourself,’ soothed Merivale. ‘He is not here.’

‘Praise the Lord for that. Who is the girl?’

‘A pretty child,’ Merivale answered guardedly.

‘Ay, I’d have guessed that. Justin had ever a nice taste in –’ Again he stopped. ‘Thunder an’ turf, I beg your pardon, Jenny! I’d forgot. Demmed careless of me!’ He looked ruefully at Merivale. ‘I must always be saying the wrong thing, Tony. It’s this rattle-pate of mine, and what with the bottle – well, well!’

Merivale led him into the library, where a lackey came to them presently, bringing wine. Rupert settled his long length in a chair and drank deeply.

‘Truth to tell, Tony,’ he said confidently, ‘I’m more at ease when the ladies are not present. My tongue runs away with me, burn it! Not but what Jenny’s a devilish fine woman,’ he added hastily. ‘The wonder is that you admit me into your house. When one thinks ’twas my brother ran off with Jenny –’ He shook his head comically.

‘You’re always welcome,’ smiled Merivale. ‘I’ve no fear that you’ll seek to abduct Jenny.’

‘Lord, no! I’m not saying that I haven’t trifled somewhat with women now and then – one has to, y’know. Honour of the name, my boy – but I’ve no real taste for ’em, Tony, none at all.’ He refilled his glass. ‘’Tis a queer thing, when you come to think on’t. Here am I, an Alastair, with never an intrigue to my name. I feel it sometimes,’ he sighed, ‘’tis as though I were no true Alastair. Why, there’s never been one of us –’

‘I’d not crave the vice, Rupert,’ said Merivale dryly.

‘Oh, I don’t know! There’s Justin, now, and wherever he is there is sure to be some wench. I’m not saying aught against him, mind you, but we don’t love one another overmuch. I’ll say one thing for him, though: he’s not mean. I daresay you’ll not believe me, Tony, but since he came into that fortune of his I’ve not been in a sponging house once.’ He looked up with some pride. ‘Not once.’

‘It’s marvellous,’ Merivale agreed. ‘And have you really come down here to see Léonie?’

‘Is that her name? Ay, what else?’

The grey eyes began to twinkle.

‘I thought mayhap ’twas to see myself and Jennifer?’


Tags: Georgette Heyer Alastair-Audley Tetralogy Romance