“Oh, Lord! Must you be such a fool? No man could keep his eyes from her. She’s one of the most beautiful women I ever saw.”
His eyes blazing, Falcon struggled to one elbow. He was panting, two spots of colour high on his cheekbones. “An you dare pester her whilst I’m laid here by—by the heels…!”
“Be at ease, you silly clod. I admired the lady merely. A fine villain you take me for!”
“Be assured of it!”
“If you weren’t in that bed, by God—” Rossiter broke off. “No! For God’s sake—get back—” He sprang to catch the injured man as he managed to clamber out of bed, only to sag dizzily. Guiding him back onto the pillows, Rossiter wrenched his shoulder and said with considerable irritation, “If ever I saw such a fire-eater! I’ve barely set foot in England, and have no slightest designs upon your sister.”
“You had best not have! My… prejudices are few, but ’fore heaven I draw the line at… at having Katrina plagued by a man whose name is a by-word for… treachery and dishonour!”
For an instant Rossiter was so astounded he could do no more than stare at Falcon’s pale and sweating face. Then, he said very softly, “I think you must explain that, sir.”
“Faith, but your astonishment is well done!” Falcon’s lip curled. “Much I need to explain! Why are you come home save to support your sire? Though ’tis little he’ll gain from your presence after the unlovely record you’ve built in the Low Countries, and—”
Rossiter threw up one hand peremptorily. “We do not discuss my record. Why should my father need my support?”
“Oh, stop your gammoning, man! Am I to believe you did not know that three months ago Rossiter Bank failed; Rossiter Investment Company failed; that your sire was proved a thief and embezzler, and has sunk your name in deep dis—”
Rossiter had turned very white, but now his face became livid. His hand whipped out to fasten on Falcon’s nightshirt. Hauling him up, he said between his teeth, “Curse you for a liar! My father never did a dishonest thing in his life!”
“Go and ask him!” Falcon beat feebly at Rossiter’s arm. “And—and then you may come back and go down on your… knees and—and beg me not to run you through!”
“Let him go! Oh! What are you doing to him?”
The shrieked words cut through the red haze of wrath that had enveloped Rossiter. He released his grip abruptly, derived a savage satisfaction from hearing Falcon swear as he fell back on the pillows, and stalked to the door.
Two women stood on the threshold. One was a thin and stern-faced abigail who carried a laden tray; the other was Katrina Falcon. Her horror-filled eyes accused him. She pulled her skirts closer as he passed. “For shame, to attack a helpless man,” she said in disgust.
“Your brother will never be helpless, madam,” he riposted, “until someone amputates his vicious tongue!”
Running down the stairs, his conscience acknowledged that he had behaved like a cad in handling Falcon roughly. It was a small and barely heard voice. Most of his concern was with his father. He must get home at once and learn exactly what had happened.
He frowned grimly. He had thought his fighting days were done. Now, it appeared, they might be just beginning!
CHAPTER FOUR
Naomi coaxed a tendril of her damp hair into place and inspected herself in the dressing table mirror. Wet and witless, he had called her. The horrid boor! She had, perhaps, been a trifle upset. Who would not be after such a terrifying experience? But he’d shown her not the slightest compassion. Wet and witless, indeed! She had been soaked and dirty, true, but her face was free of mud now, and Maggie had brushed her hair into a richly shining mantle about her shoulders. She was a little pale from shock and weariness, but this served to emphasize the clear green of her eyes. If the tall soldier could see her now… She tossed her head impatiently, and drew the lacy collar of her white satin dressing gown higher. Much she cared what he would think. Only, although it had been almost dark and she’d not really seen him clearly, there was something about the captain that troubled her. Something that hovered at the back of her mind, refusing to be drawn to full recollection.
“I know as you’re worrying for poor Mr. Falcon,” said Maggie, hurrying from the door and a whispered conversation with the first footman. “But—”
“Mr. Falcon!” exclaimed Naomi with a guilty start. “Yes, of course I am. I think his wound was not serious, but poor Miss Katrina is likely in need of me. I should be with her now but for that horrid soldier!”
“Wicked, I calls it,” agreed Maggie with gratifying indignation. “To pick you up like a sack of oats and toss you—”
The memory of that unheard-of indignity brought rage smouldering into Naomi’s eyes once more. “He was an arrogant brute!”
“What had no right to seize your sweet self in his great strong fists and throw you in the coach like any—”
“If I’d but had my little silver pistol to hand he would not have touched me so, I promise you!”
“Touched you, milady! Mauled you, more like! And heaved you about as if you was any bale of hay, with no least—”
My lady’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Refer to me as a sack or a bale once more, wretched minx,” she warned between her teeth, “and I shall pinch you! Hard!”
Maggie lowered her big brown eyes demurely, and murmured her apologies, but her lips twitched suspiciously. Long before Mr. Simon Lutonville had gone out to Italy, or entertained any hope of acceding to the earldom, little Maggie Osgood, the head gardener’s daughter, and Miss Naomi had played with their dolls together. They had been mistress and maid since Naomi had returned to England, but the affection between them remained. The pert village lass knew just how far she could go before she was in danger, and that however heinous her offence she would never collect a hard box on the ear, or have to endure the endless succession of slaps or scratches that many of her friends received from their employers.
“’Tis because I so loves you that I am put about to think of him daring to treat you so rough,” she declared earnestly. “And after his evil friend shooting down that dear handsome Mr. Falcon like he was a common thief! Whatever the earl will have to say, I dassen’t think. Best hasten, milady. His lor’ship be waiting for you like a proper thundercloud.”
