“Good!” exclaimed Gideon. “Then that rascal is laid by the heels for tonight, at least!”
“Yousuggested the Watch keep an eye on Derrydene’s house?” said Sir Mark. “I wonder they heeded you.”
“They would not have, if the suggestion had come from me, sir. I asked Tio to request it—in his father’s name.”
“Jolly good notion,” said Morris, laughing. “I fancy Sir Louis is biting his teeth with frustration.”
Gideon tipped the lackey and sent him off with a note of thanks to Lord Horatio. Glancing at the window, he said, “It looks to be a bad night, father. Perhaps you should postpone your call at the Horse Guards.”
Sir Mark did not enjoy negotiating the hill in wet weather, and he agreed to this, adding, “We’ll all go over there first thing in the morning.”
Gideon said apologetically, “I’m afraid ’twill have to be just you and my brother, sir.”
“Why, damme?” demanded Sir Mark, at once firing up. “I should like both my sons at my side, for once!”
Morris precipitated another uproar. “Gideon has a prior appointment in the morning, sir. With August Falcon.”
***
The skies were low-hanging and leaden, the air was chill, and in the jolting carriage Morris, not at his best before breakfast, grumbled. “Perry Cranford’s a good enough fellow, I give you that. But—Kadenworthy? Gad! Of course, one has to consider that Falcon’s not exactly surrounded by admiring cronies, but I hope he don’t have Kadenworthy for a second when I fight him. Cannot abide the man.”
Rossiter pulled his cloak tighter and said thoughtfully, “I think I don’t know the gentleman. Didn’t he go out with de Villars once?”
“Yes, and Treve almost told his tale for him! They’re friends now, I hear. Lord knows why. Kadenworthy’s tongue is every bit as acid as Falcon’s.”
“Your future brother-in-law,” said Gideon slyly.
Morris groaned. “One has to take the bitter with the better.”
Amused, Gideon asked, “Have you made any progress, Jamie?”
“She smiled on me”—a dreamy expression replaced Morris’ gloom—“and told me I was brave. And she bandaged my hand. Her touch was light as any feather.”
Rossiter peered at the bandage. “You should change that, y’know.”
“Never!” Morris touched the grey linen very gently. “Her little hand placed it there, and there it shall stay.”
“Gad, but you’re properly smitten! Lord knows, I wish you well, but—if the lady ever should accept you, would your father—er, be displeased?”
“What the deuce d’you mean by that? Miss Katrina is the loveliest creature in all England, and if you insinuate that my papa might object because some stupid bigoted fools say she’s a half-caste—”
“You think he would not, then?”
“Most definitely not! And—and if he did… Well, I’d win him over, be damned if I’d not.” He sighed and said ruefully, “You and I tread thorny paths to win our ladies, eh?”
Gideon’s slow smile dawned. “True. Speaking of paths, Jamie, do you go with me to see this collector fellow when my silly duel is out of the way?”
Morris said staunchly that he certainly meant to “trot along.” Inwardly, he was apprehensive as to the outcome of this meeting. Not quite two weeks ago the military surgeon had told Gideon to enjoy a good long rest and he would soon be as fit as ever. Far from resting, his life had since been one long riot. Oddly enough, he did look better; probably because he was so deep in love with the Lady Naomi. Still, the bruises on his side were more lurid than ever, and although he made light of it, he tended to move rather stiffly. If only Falcon wasn’t such a damned fine swordsman… Of course, if the ground was marshy that might even the odds a trifle. He peered out of the window hopefully.
The skies were a little brighter when they reached the site, which was located in the fields some half-mile beyond the end of the park. Viscount Glendenning and Falcon’s seconds, Peregrine Cranford and Lord Kadenworthy, were already looking over the ground. Gideon was acquainted with Cranford, a slim and handsome young man with intensely blue eyes, a ready smile, and a quick temper. Shaking hands, Gideon said, “How d’ye do, Perry? I see you’ve had a spot of trouble. Accident?”
“Prestonpans,” answered Cranford with a grin. “We’d a small war of our own whilst you was away, you know. My silly foot disputed the right of way with a gun carriage.” He saw Rossiter’s instinctive sympathetic wince and said cheerily, “But don’t be thinking this peg-leg a hindrance. I can hop about pretty well, as you’ll soon discover.”
Gideon clapped him on the back and turned to Kadenworthy. That tall and elegant gentleman gave him a nod and a cool stare and was apparently quite unable to see his outstretched hand. “I trust your man has webbed feet, Morris,” he drawled. “He has a fine bog to fight on.”
Morris stared at him in icy silence.
With so many matters preying on his mind, Rossiter had momentarily forgotten his disgrace, and he flushed a little as he turned to ask Glendenning whether Falcon had arrived.
