“No, no. We do not believe you would stoop to—smallknaveries, Captain Rossiter.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and for an instant his stare became a blazing glare that frightened her. Then he bowed mockingly, and she went on, “I merely hoped you might have seen it. My father’s men found the wrappings near the spot where your friend shot Mr. Falcon.”
“So that is why James shot him.” His smile contemptuous, he drawled, “I’d no idea he was so ardent a player as to kill for a chess piece. Though most men—”
Angered by his sarcasm, she flared, “Most men are despicable!”
He bowed again. “Before—or after they suffer a reversal of fortunes, madam?”
Naomi’s riding whip swung up but her wrist was caught in a grip of iron.
“Temper, temper,” chided Rossiter. “With all his vaunted shrewdness, ’tis remarkable that your papa has failed to teach you that a lady of Quality should not behave like a guttersnipe.”
She was shaking with anger, but when she wrenched free, he was not treated to the blistering denunciation he anticipated. Instead, she demanded loftily, “Am I to understand you did not see the piece? It is quite small, and fashioned of pink jade and rubies.”
“But—dear lady, surely you must apprehend there is no point in asking me. An I had seen it, I certainly would never tell the truth of the matter. And since one is judged by the company one keeps, you will appreciate that to question my friend would be as pointless.”
He strode past her, swung the front door wide, and proffered her hat. “Speaking as an accomplished cheat, lecher, and—liar, I have no hesitation in saying—to have met you again, my lady, has been… a pleasure.”
She should be able to find an answer to that barb, surely? But there was something about the haggard face and sardonic smile that made her feel cheapened and oddly disturbed. Words eluded her, and taking up the train of her habit, she snatched her hat, and swept past him regally, but in silence.
Hearing the door close, Lieutenant Morris paced to the stairs and started down once more, only to hesitate yet again. Rossiter stood facing the door, his head bowed against it. He had heard Morris’ steps and turned quickly. The lieutenant caught a glimpse of a despair that appalled him. Then, a flush stained the gaunt cheeks, and Rossiter asked quietly, “How long have you been there, Jamie?”
“Longer than I liked, blister it! Stumbled on your—ah, conversation before I realized you were there, and then your blasted creaking stairs trapped me. Took me the deuce of a time to escape. Damned embarrassing, I don’t mind telling you.”
Rossiter sighed as if he was very weary. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
There was sympathy in the freckled face. Rossiter shrank from it. “Thank you. But—’tis as well to know where I stand, I suppose.”
“Do you?” Morris came down the rest of the stairs. “Not my bread and butter, of course, but—Bless it, Gideon! Why in Hades didn’t you tell the poor girl the truth? If her ladyship knew you’d come damned near to cocking up your toes this past year and more—”
Crossing the hall to join him, Rossiter said bleakly, “Do you really fancy I would work on a woman’s sympathy to win her? Even did I still wish to do so? Thank you—no!”
They started to walk towards the kitchen hall, and Morris said, “Of all the high-in-the-instep—”
Rossiter cut him off impatiently. “I cannot be too surprised, Jamie. She was little more than a child when we plighted our troth. She likely found quite soon that she had mistaken her heart. Certainly, I mistook mine, and I am free now to do what I may to help my family. You will be eager to get on your way, no? Never worry about our belongings. As soon as I reach Town I’ll send one of my father’s people down to the Red Pheasant to collect ’em.”
Morris checked his stride, and said sternly, “You are indulging your perishing pride again, and I tell you, Ross, that pride is worth—”
“Very little, I know,” interrupted Rossiter coolly. “Whereas time is of the essence, and the sooner we’re away the better.”
Their departure was not as prompt as he had hoped, but at last Tummet, the richer by two guineas, had wished his captors a blithe farewell, the horses were saddled, and the two men rode from the stableyard and started across the wide expanse of the park. With a great effort of will Rossiter did not once look back at his birthplace. Morris could all too well imagine his state of mind, however, and remained discreetly silent.
They were passing through the lodge gates before Rossiter said, “May I ask when you learned of my father’s trouble?”
“My mama writ to me. I collect there was quite a—I mean, it caused somewhat of a stir.”
Rossiter asked expressionlessly, “Did everybody else know? At the hospital, I mean.”
“Really couldn’t say, old lad.”
Rossiter turned his head and looked at him levelly, and Morris added a hurried, “My mama writes dashedenormousletters. Shouldn’t think any other fella’s parent would scribble so much. Always crossed and both sides of the page covered. Makes it hard as the deuce to decipher.”
“I scarce remember my mother,” said Rossiter absently. “She died when Gwendolyn was born…” His mind felt bruised, but he wrenched it from a cruel and lovely face to deal with the here and now. “So your mama told you that my father’s bank had failed, and that there were charges of”—he had to force himself to utter that awful word—“of embezzlement?”
“No, no, dear boy! Merely that ’twas a—er, nasty sort of business and there was bad feeling ’gainst your papa. Because so many were ruined, y’see. Never used the term ‘embezzlement.’” He grinned. “Probably couldn’t spell it.” Then, realizing he had blundered again, his comely face reddened.
