Her eyes twinkled.
‘You were frightened! I saw your face. It was so fun –’
‘That’ll do,’ said Rupert. ‘I was taken unawares.’
‘Yes, that was not well done of me,’ she said. ‘I am sorry, but you understand I have a quick temper.’
‘Yes, I understand that,’ grimaced Rupert.
‘It is very sad, n’est-ce pas? But I am truly sorry.’
He became her slave from that moment.
Sixteen
The Coming of the Comte de Saint-Vire
The days sped past, and still the Duke did not come. Rupert and Léonie rode, fenced, and quarrelled together like two children, while, from afar, the Merivales watched, smiling.
‘My dear,’ said his lordship, ‘she reminds me strangely of someone, but who it is I cannot for the life of me make out.’
‘I don’t think I have ever seen anyone like her,’ Jennifer answered. ‘My lord, I have just thought that ’twould be a pretty thing if she married Rupert.’
‘Oh, no!’ he said quickly. ‘She is a babe, for sure, but, faith, she’s too old for Rupert!’
‘Or not old enough. All women are older than their husbands, Anthony.’
‘I protest I am a staid middle-aged man!’
She touched his cheek.
‘You are just a boy. I am older by far.’
He was puzzled, and a little worried.
‘I like it so,’ she said.
Meanwhile at Avon Léonie and her swain made merry together. Rupert taught Léonie to fish, and they spent delightful days by the stream and returned at dusk, tired and wet, and unbelievably dirty. Rupert treated Léonie as a boy, which pleased her, and he told her endless tales of Society which also pleased her. But most of all she liked him to remember scraps of recollection of his brother. To these she would listen for hours at a time, eyes sparkling, and lips parted to drink in every word.
‘He is – he is grand seigneur !’ she said once, proudly.
‘Oh, ay, every inch of him! I’ll say that. He’ll count no cost, either. He’s devilish clever, too.’ Rupert shook his head wisely. ‘Sometimes I think there’s nothing he don’t know. God knows how he finds things out, but he does. All pose, of course, but it’s damned awkward, I give you my word. You can’t keep a thing secret from him. And he always comes on you when you least expect him – or want him. Oh, he’s cunning, devilish cunning.’
‘I think you do like him a little,’ Léonie said shrewdly.
‘Devil a bit. Oh, he can be pleasant enough, but it’s seldom he is! One’s proud of him, y’know, but he’s queer.’
‘I wish he would come back,’ sighed Léonie.
Two days later Merivale, on his way to Avon village, met them, careering wildly over the country. They reined in when they saw him and came to him. Léonie was flushed and panting, Rupert was sulky.
‘He is a great stupid, this Rupert,’ Léonie announced.
‘She has led me a fine dance this day,’ Rupert complained.
‘I do not want you with me at all,’ said Léonie, nose in air.
Merivale smiled upon their quarrel.