“Is he?”
“Good with everything. Had lots of practice.”
“He’ll likely be somewhat slowed if we set an early date, which may even the odds. Swords, Tio. Preferably in the next day or so.” His lordship was clearly preparing to enter a caveat, and Rossiter forestalled him by calling, “Tummet!”
The valet appeared, as innocent as though he’d not listened to every word. “Yus, Cap’n?”
“Lay out my new burgundy coat, and the white satin waistcoat with the pink clocks. I attend a soiree this evening. And tell Wilson to put out another cover. You will join us for dinner, Tio?”
“No, no, dear boy. My thanks but—that beast of a hill! To negotiate it after dining would ruin my digestion for the rest of the evening. You shall dine with me, rather.”
“Capital notion! In that event, I’ll change now. Oh, and Tummet—I shall wear the dress sword with the ruby in the hilt.”
“Right, guv. But we won’t be ’aving no ship-yer-oars—that’s to say ‘little wars,’ melord—will we now, Cap’n? You ain’t proper recovered o’ all them ’oles in—”
“No wars, you hedgebird,” promised Rossiter, touched but exasperated. “Go and put out my clothes, as I told you!”
Mr. Enoch Tummet was not reassured, and made his way into the bedchamber grumbling audibly about high-in-the-instep young fire-eaters.
***
“But I assure you ’twas so.” Mr. Rudolph Bracksby bowed as the stately dance ended. “Certainly you must know that any gentleman once having met you counts the moments ’til he does so again?”
The great skirts of Naomi’s white satin gown swirled as she sank into the curtsy. Her green eyes laughed at Bracksby as he raised her, but his admiration was plain, and she was pleased by the awareness that she looked well tonight. The swansdown-trimmed stomacher emphasized her tiny waist; the overskirts of her gown looped back to reveal the pink embroidered underdress. Her hair was swept up from her face and arranged into loose curls at the sides with a pink silk flower pinned above her left ear. About her white throat was a golden chain from which hung a pendant of pearls and rubies, and jewelled slippers glittered on her little feet.
She had been surprised to find this charming but rather quiet gentleman at the Dowling Soiree, and more surprised when he had prevailed upon Lady Dowling to “properly introduce” him. Naomi was not inclined to simper or pretend she did not at once recognize him from their encounter in the cathedral. She had assumed, however, that he would soon leave her to go upstairs where many gentlemen sat at card tables, or to the large saloon where guests were gathering to hear Signor Guido Lambini read from and discuss his new book of poems. Instead, almost before Naomi knew what he was about, Mr. Bracksby had deftly appropriated her dance card, scrawled his name, and swept her from under the outraged noses of the eager group of young gallants surrounding her and into the quadrille.
Now, as he led her from the floor, she murmured, “You’ve a silver tongue, sir.”
“Then I shall hope it wags to your pleasure and my benefit. For example, may I call for you in the morning? An early ride, perhaps?”
She laughed a little. “La, but it’s a determined gentleman.”
“Be assured of that, ma’am. Shall we say—seven o’clock?”
“I should be pleased to say seven o’clock. But—my regrets. I am engaged tomorrow.”
“Then in the after—”
But her admirers had regrouped and now crowded in about her. Mr. Bracksby, a decade older than most of them, was smiled on politely, stepped past gently, and gradually closed out by ardent youth. He took it in good part, wandered from the crowded room and made his way up the graceful curve of the main staircase. In the first-floor hall he was hailed by a familiar voice. Horatio Glendenning was bearing down on him, accompanied by a tall young man whose grey eyes sparked anger, and whose gaunt cheeks were slightly flushed. For just an instant Bracksby stood very still. Then, he said, “Good evening, Tio,” and extended his hand. “Hello, Gideon. How glad I am to see you safely home.”
Rossiter said sardonically, “Then you are in the minority, Rudi. I am very muchpersona non grata,you know. I doubt Lady Dowling will ever speak to Tio again, for having brought me.”
“Oh, Tio can bring all the ladies round his thumb,” said Bracksby, smiling as they exchanged a firm grip.
Heads were turning in that crowded hallway, and several quizzing glasses were brought to bear to further emphasize the affronted stares of their owners. Apparently oblivious of this by-play, Bracksby went on, “What a beast of a homecoming you have had, poor fellow. I wish—”
“I do not want sympathy,” interrupted Rossiter savagely. “What I need is help.”
“And some privacy,” said Glendenning, noting that several gentlemen had halted and were muttering together. He swept open a nearby door, peeped into an unoccupied ante room, and ushered his friends inside. Lady Dowling’s breeding had not failed her when he’d greeted her with Rossiter at his side, but the look of stricken horror she had directed at him as he walked away could not be ignored. He left the two men alone, therefore, and with the determination to make his peace with their hostess, went in search of her.
“’Twas all so blasted sudden.” Bracksby leaned back in his chair, looking very much the affluent country gentleman despite his well-cut grey brocade coat and the quilted violet satin waistcoat. “One day your father’s bank was prospering; the next, frantic investors were beating the doors down. How the word spread so swiftly, is beyond me. Would to heaven I’d reacted as fast. But I was still sitting waiting for things to right ’emselves, whilst men like Collington had seen the inevitable and recouped what they might.”
Rossiter shrank a little. “Oh, Lord! Rudi, I knew you banked with my father, but—”
“Of course I did, dear boy,” interpolated Bracksby. “I’m not a scion of one of Kent’s old-time families, as are you. But since I bought my little place I’ve always found your papa a dashed good neighbour, and with never a whisper of height in his manner. The least I could do was take my business to him.”
A distant part of Rossiter’s mind was amused by Bracksby’s designation of Overlake Lodge as a “little place,” for it was a splendid estate, at least half as large as Promontory Point. And it was as well the poor amiable fellow had detected no “whisper of height” in Sir Mark’s manner; he’d likely be horrified did he know that the baronet was apt to refer to him as “ournouveau richeneighbour.” Rossiter’s main concentration was on more pressing matters, however, and he asked anxiously, “Did you sustain a heavy loss?”
