“This Doom boy, milord, I’ll wager ye I’ll git a grin outta ’im afore the end of the week. By Friday, aye, no longer than that.”
“A pound,” Rohan said. They shook hands.
“I’ve already got ’im looking at me somethin’ fierce whenever I spout me tunes. By Friday, milord. It’s strange though, ’e’s not beat by ’is pa nor anything like that. ’E’s jest long in the face, like.”
Rohan rode until noon. He was sweaty, hot, and feeling exhilarated when he arrived back at Mountvale House. He came to a dumbfounded halt at the sight of a large carriage pulled by four brilliant white horses standing in front of the deep-set steps of the house. There were three outriders, all wearing billowing black cloaks. The coachman was wearing pale silver and black livery. The wide front doors of Mountvale were thrown open wide. There was a flurry of bright color. There was a pumping up of lungs, he could feel it.
“My dearest! I’m home!”
8
CHARLOTTE DULCINA CARRINGTON, LADY MOUNTVALE, accepted a crystal glass of very cold champagne from her son. “ . . . Well, dearest, you see, I was in Paris when I got this feeling. Now, Rohan, don’t look at me like I’ve got turnip seeds in my brain. It was indeed a feeling, a bona fide feeling, a very strange feeling. I saw this girl—a woman really, but very young—and she looked absolutely terrified. And there you were, standing beside her, looking utterly helpless. What was a poor mother to do? I realized I was needed. Naturally I did not hesitate to come to you.” She squared her beautiful white shoulders, which in turn thrust out her lovely bosom, and announced in a heroine’s voice, “I have come here to arran
ge things, my son. Whatever is wrong, I will fix it.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Rohan said. He clicked his glass against hers and forced himself to take a sip. He hated champagne. Nasty stuff. Actually, he drank little if anything, but no one could know that. Actually no one would believe it, particularly about a man of his debauched reputation.
She looked glorious, as usual, in a charming gown of moss green, cut low, naturally, but not low in a vulgar way. His mother was never vulgar.
“You look fit, Mother.”
“Yes, dearest, I know. It is nice of you to notice, but then, naturally you would, being of an excessively amorous nature just like your dear papa. Now, who is this young lady who is terrified?”
There were fast footsteps and a loud panting breath nearing the open doorway. “Is that you, Toby? Come in and meet Lady Mountvale, my mother.”
Toby took two steps into the room, then stopped and stared. Standing before him was surely the most exquisite creature he had ever imagined. Her hair was a rich blond, thick, piled and plaited atop her head, but parts of it on her shoulders, and there was even some of it falling in lazy curls down her neck, and surely those were diamond pins in her hair that sparkled and gleamed. Her eyes were just the blue of the sky in the middle of the summer when it was hot and there was no rain. Her nose was perfect, narrow and straight, just like Rohan’s. Her lips were a light red color, like she’d just eaten strawberries. He managed to tear his eyes away from the Vision. He stared at the baron, shaking his head even as he said, “Are you jesting, Rohan?”
“About what?”
Toby stole another look at the Goddess. “She can’t be your mother. She’s young and beautiful, but she does have the look of you. But her eyes are blue, not green. Yes, that’s it. She must be your sister. Is she your older sister or your younger sister?”
“I don’t have a sister, Toby. Stop staring at her. You are only eight years old. She is my mother, I promise you.”
Lady Mountvale, who had been regarding the boy with some bemusement, nodded now, determining him to be blessed with a discerning eye backed with very high intelligence. She said with a charming smile, “My boy, it is obvious that you are already well on the path to a future that would render a hedonist proud. I am amazed and gratified.
“Who is this handsome boy, dearest? You haven’t pulled a bastard out of your hat and just slipped him in? You would have sired him when you were but fifteen or sixteen. Well done, Rohan. Well done. Your beloved father would have been so very pleased. A pity he never knew. Why didn’t you tell him of this delightful boy? It would have gladdened his final days.”
Toby was startled out of his worship. He puffed up like a little cock. “I am not a bastard, my lady. I am Toby Hawlworth. Even though Rohan thinks my father is a bastard, I am legal, truly.”
“His father is a bastard, dearest? I didn’t see him in my dream. This is all very odd.”
“He’s a bastard in character” Rohan said, “not in the question of his antecedents.”
“Did the father send you this lovely boy so you could tutor him in the ways of the world?”
“No, actually Toby is the brother of that terrified young lady you saw in your vision. Toby, go fetch Susannah. If Marianne is awake, and not in a snit, then have Susannah bring her as well. Ah, tell your sister that she’s in for a treat.”
“Yes, sir,” Toby said, cast one final look at the incredibly beautiful woman who couldn’t be Rohan’s mother, and backed out of the drawing room.
“Comb your hair, Susannah.”
“What is wrong with my hair, Toby? I just combed it this morning. What is the matter with you?”
“You don’t have her hair, Susannah. Please, you must do something or else you will feel like a scullery maid.”
Susannah, her hands on her hips, looked straight at her brother. “You come in here and tell me to hurry. Then you tell me to comb my hair. What is going on? Are there visitors?”
“There is a visitor. Rohan said it was his mother, but he was jesting. She can’t be.”