Miss Antiqua's Adventure Page 10

  Getting command of herself, Antiqua reluctantly stretched out her arms to him. His nearness as he lifted her caused her to tremble. How could he feel so warm, so safe? He should be the last person on the face of the earth to comfort her so.

  Through the darkness, she saw the glimmer of white marble steps, then a brighter light as a door yawned wide to greet them. She was conveyed into a well-appointed hall, but she could take in no detail as Vincent passed through a set of double doors into a large and splendid drawing room. A small, very fair woman leaped up from a chair, her pretty mouth opened in surprise, a needlework frame dangling limp from her hand.

  “Jack!” she cried. “What—?”

  “I have brought you a guest, my dear,” he said placidly, as if it were the most natural thing to stroll in unannounced, after a year’s absence, with a lovely girl in his arms.

  Antiqua looked from the astonished woman to the taut face of the man who was even now setting her upon a very elegant rosewood and satin sofa. She noted the respectability of the room and her relief was nearly as immense as her confusion. What manner of villain was Vincent? She was not to be locked in a dark tower, she was not to be murdered or even abused. She was to be left with this pretty, kind-looking woman in this quite unexceptional house. Her tension and exhaustion burst through her and found release in a sudden flood of tears.

  Chapter 11

  Lady Julianne Winthrop sat, banked by a mound of fluffy pillows, in the center of a carved poster bed. Her feathery blonde hair fell loosely over her lace-covered shoulders and her fair brows came together over her frowning blue eyes. Nibbling with disinterest on a buttered muffin, Lady Julianne stared thoughtfully at the embellished edge of her ruffled peignoir. Her apparently intent absorption in her lace was interrupted by the muted sound of a door. Looking quickly toward the entrance that only one person used, the frown vanished in favor of a smile at once both girlish and womanly.

  “Oh, Giles! I was never more glad to see you—although, of course, I am always glad to see you, my love!”

  The man to whom this incoherent, but fervent, speech was addressed paused within the frame of the door, gazing at his wife with warm appreciation in his hazel eyes. Everything, from the cut of his claret morning coat to the gloss of his dark boots, bespoke excellence, both in taste and tailoring. The graying hair was cropped short, showing a wide brow tracked with a pair of lines, while deep creases marked the corners of his eyes.

  Sir Giles came forward, asking in a tone of calm interest, “Indeed, my dear? And may I venture to inquire as to the cause for this rapturous reception?”

  “It’s Jack!” she replied, putting out her hands. “And he has done the most astonishing thing!”

  Winthrop took her hands into his own, bent to kiss them, then straightened to query, “Are you telling me, my love, that Vincent has returned to England?”

  “Yes, and I could have boxed his ears!” Lady Julianne answered with spirit.

  The vision of his tiny wife boxing her beloved younger half-brother on the ears brought a smile to Sir Giles’s lips. “I begin to wish I had not lingered at White’s last night. Tell me what Vincent has done to put you in such a temper.”

  “After more than a twelvemonth away, he walked in last night—unannounced and as cool as you please, you know his way!—and deposited a lovely girl on my settee, telling me he had brought me a guest. A guest, Giles, with a bandaged foot and tears quite gushing from her eyes!”

  “And who, my pet, is this lovely girl he brought us?”

  “I’m sure I cannot tell you! It’s utterly provoking of Jack! The poor girl was thoroughly done up and sobbing her heart out, so I cannot be certain I heard correctly. But I think she said Jack forced her to accompany him from France.”

  Consternation mingled with disbelief shadowed her husband’s eyes, but Lady Julianne did not appear to notice this. She played nervously with the ruffle on her sleeve and continued in some agitation, “She seems to hold him in aversion. Well, it is not to be wondered at if he did indeed abduct her and then shoot at her.”

  “Shoot at her?”

  “Well, dear, that is what she said he did, but then when I exclaimed over my own brother having done such a wicked thing, she went quite white and refused to say anything more to the matter.” Lady Julianne frowned a little. “I did not feel it quite right to press her, for whatever happened, it was obvious she had been through a trial. So I had her carried up to bed without even getting her name.”

  “Did not Vincent have something to say to these charges?” Sir Giles asked in a soothing voice.

  The composed tone had its effect for when his wife answered, the flustered inflection had gone from her voice. “No. I gave him no chance, but sent him away immediately. I expect him to call this morning and I shall demand a full explanation.” She turned a pair of anxious blue eyes on her husband. “I realize it has become a habit with Jack to go about shooting people, but I don’t think it’s quite the thing for him to shoot young girls in the foot, do you, my love?”

  “No, I would have to say it’s not quite the thing,” he agreed, admirably maintaining an even tone.

  “I did not think so, either,” she said matter-of-factly. “But if indeed Jack has been abducting and shooting at that girl, then he must be made to do the right thing by her.”

  Because she sounded sad, Sir Giles took her hand again and squeezed gently. “If, as you say, Vincent carried this girl from France against her will and then shot her—in the foot, was it?—then by all means, he shall be brought to book. But somehow, my dearest, I doubt if even Vincent has been so lost to propriety as to embroil us in such conduct.”

  Lady Julianne sat up straight, relief lighting her blue eyes. “How very true! And so good of you to think of it! Whatever Vincent may do, he does not inflict his peccadilloes upon the family.”

  At this, Sir Giles could no longer restrain his amusement. To call abduction and attempted murder a peccadillo proved to be too much and he gave way to laughter. When he calmed sufficiently, he kissed his bewildered wife’s brow and said warmly, “Do you know, Julianne, my sweet, I used to think you most lovely at night when the light of the candle burnished your hair, but I now realize you are most lovely in the morning, just as you are at this moment.”

  This speech had the delightful effect of sending the lady into his arms, and for a time, all thought of Jack Vincent and his peccadilloes were utterly forgotten.

  It was not to be expected that this happy state of affairs could last for long, for Vincent was prompt in presenting himself in Grosvenor Square that morning. When Sir Giles and Lady Julianne entered the blue salon, they found their guest sitting on the arm of a chair, swinging one booted foot with the appearance of a man totally at ease. To his sister he looked as charmingly handsome as he had ever done, but to Sir Giles he appeared older than his twenty-four years, with new lines tracing into that cool face.

  “Hullo, Julianne, Winthrop,” Vincent said easily, standing as they approached. “I trust my guest did not inconvenience you?”

  “Inconvenience! As if you cared a button for our convenience!” His sister stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek before continuing to scold. “There was little to be had from that poor girl last night, so I depend upon you to explain everything. Did you indeed force her to come with you?”

  Julianne caught Vincent’s hands and fairly dragged him to sit beside her on a blue and white teakwood settee. She did not pause for his reply, but continued in reproving accents, “And to be acting as if you’d only seen us yesterday, instead of more than a year ago on the night of that dreadful duel, is quite outside of enough, Jack!”

  “Well, if you’d rather I catalogue for you my extremely dull doings of the last twelvemonth, I shall of course oblige. Upon landing at Boulogne—”

  “Jack!” she cut in, but not without a laugh. “Who is this lovely girl you have so imperiously presented us?”

  “Her name is Antiqua Greybill,” he replied.

&
nbsp; “Greybill. Is there possibly a connection with Sir Arthur?” Winthrop inquired.

  “Sir Arthur is her grandfather,” Vincent supplied, watching the conflicting emotions pass over his sister’s face. “But he apparently has not acknowledged her existence, having cast off his son upon his marriage to a Frenchwoman.”

  “But Jack, this means she is—she is not—” Lady Julianne stammered into silence.

  “My dear, you cannot have supposed I would bring one of my light-skirts to stay with you,” her brother protested.

  Julianne had the grace to blush.

  Sir Giles came to his wife’s rescue. “I think perhaps, Vincent, it would be best if you tell us the whole. Julianne was unable to get much from the girl last night, other than the notion that you had abducted her and then shot at her.”

  The sudden closed mask which descended over Vincent’s features brought concern to both pairs of eyes watching him. “Miss Greybill has an over-ripe imagination. I did not shoot at her.”

  “But her foot!”

  “She fell in a hole, Julianne, and twisted her ankle. Fawkes informs me that though she may have torn some ligaments, it’s nothing serious. I did not shoot her.” A hint of amusement returned. “You may apply to her maid for verification, my dear.”

  “Oh, no, of course I need not do so,” she denied, planning to do so upon the first opportunity. “What about the other. Did you take her from France?”

  A frown was now visible behind the mask. “I did not abduct her,” he began slowly, but his next words choked Lady Julianne’s sigh of relief. “It was a misunderstanding. I mean, of course, to rectify the error and have the special license ready to do so.”

  “You mean to marry her?” queried his sister in disbelief.

  “I have been meaning to do so since we landed in Dover, but Miss Greybill has yet to be convinced of the necessity.” Both his tone and his face remained without expression.

  With a slightly raised brow, Sir Giles casually remarked, “Well, I myself do not quite see the necessity. As the girl is now under our protection, we can give it out that she has been with us for the past few days—the granddaughter of an old family friend, staying until her ankle is better.”

  “Oh, Giles, you are so very clever!” his wife said in admiration. “It is the very thing!”

  “I am sorry to disappoint you, but we were seen together in Calais by an old . . . acquaintance,” Vincent said. His eyes seemed to frost with the memory and involuntarily his sister shuddered.

  “Ah, that of course puts another light on the matter,” Winthrop concurred. “By whom, may I ask, were you seen?”

  “The Viscount Balstone.”

  The tranquil reply brought a gasp from the lady while Sir Giles’s stance before the marble fireplace seemed to tense briefly. After a moment, he eased. “But if Miss Greybill does not wish to marry you, I fail to understand your determination to make her do so. Whatever Balstone may say, we can quickly scotch. You know it will be believed he is merely being malicious.”

  Vincent rose, cast a speaking look at Sir Giles, then moved to stand staring out the room’s bay window. “In her innocence, Miss Greybill does not realize what I have done. But I do, and I intend to marry her. Knowing me, knowing my reputation, do you honestly believe the ton would accept her, should Balstone spread the tale about?”

  Neither his sister nor her husband answered his rhetorical question.

  He turned to face them. “Oh, I grant you it would be said he was being malicious, but he would be believed nonetheless—Susannah Aylward is proof of that.”

  Hearing the bitter edge in his voice, his sister glided from the settee to his side. “But Jack, you must give this matter more thought!”

  From having been determined upon waking to make her brother marry the unknown girl, Lady Julianne had now become equally determined that he not do so. The pain in his voice over the mention of Susannah Aylward convinced her that for him to marry anyone yet would be a tremendous mistake. She began to bring forth every objection she could manufacture.

  “What do you know of this girl, after all? Though her father’s side is impeccable, what can be said of the mother? There must have been reasons for Sir Arthur to take so drastic an action—”

  “Good God, Julianne, to have his will crossed is for Sir Arthur more than enough reason, and well you know it,” her brother interrupted impatiently. “As for her breeding, had Miss Greybill been from the gutter, there are those who would still say Antiqua’s birth is far superior to my own.”

  In the silence which followed, Lady Julianne strove to remain calm. “She is very young,” she said after a time.

  “As I recall you were but eighteen when Sir Giles—then nearing forty, were you not?—took you to wife, Julianne.”

  “But Jack, she is nothing like your usual fancies!”

  “Are you suggesting I would do better to take one of my high-flyers to wife?” he replied in a gentle jesting tone.

  Assiduously avoiding his gaze, Julianne said reluctantly, “It is just that I do not think there is a need to press the girl into marriage. You cannot want an unwilling bride!”

  “As Susannah would have been, you mean to say,” Vincent returned, his cool voice telling her that he had once again withdrawn.

  Lady Julianne subsided, her hurt plainly visible.

  With a swift glance at her face, Sir Giles said harshly, “I believe, Vincent, you should make an apology to my wife.”

  For the briefest instant, Vincent sent his contemptuous gaze across to meet Winthrop’s calm eyes. Then, with a shrug, he turned and spoke quietly. “I’m sorry, Julianne. I appear to have forgotten my manners while away.”

  “It makes no matter, Jack, truly it doesn’t!” she responded, running up to him. “I am so very glad to have you back home! And Father and Archie will be, too! You will scarcely recognize Archibald, he’s become such a man while you’ve been away.”

  In this manner, the two managed to gloss over their differences and discuss family matters. At the end of ten minutes, however, Jack informed Lady Julianne of his desire to see Miss Greybill. Few had the courage to deny Jack Vincent anything and certainly the amiable Lady Julianne did not appear to be one of the few. But with a thoughtful frown, she proceeded to do so.

  “I think not, Jack, at least not today. One feels Miss Greybill needs more time to compose herself—she was utterly done up last night and it was shocking of you! If you call again tomorrow, and if she desires it, I see no reason you could not speak to her then.”

  Vincent appeared perfectly ready to take matters into his own hands and did indeed consider storming straight up to Antiqua’s room.

  But Sir Giles sent this idea to flight when he said, “An excellent notion, my love. It will give me time to take Vincent round to Parrington’s lodging and acquaint him with all the changes over the past year. Have you heard the latest absurdity of the Regent’s? He has announced his intention to build a monument to the exiled Stuarts. The Whigs’ reaction has been less than enthusiastic, I can tell you.”

  His skillful maneuvering had Vincent to the door, yet both realized the young man was allowing himself to be so swept from the room. No one, however skillful, could make him do whatever he truly did not wish to. Jack took leave of his sister with a promise to call the following morning, a promise which sent her flying up to the yellow-and-cream chamber now housing their guest.

  * * * *

  Antiqua had begun her day by announcing her intention to leave the Winthrop’s elegant townhouse just as soon as may be, but as Lucy had prosaically pointed out the condition of Miss’s ankle and the state of Miss’s funds, Antiqua had gotten no further than the plump striped cushion of an armless chair.

  “It doesn’t matter in the least,” she argued impatiently. “We cannot stay here. However kind and respectable she is, she is his sister and must be in league with him or he’d not have brought us here.”

  “’Tis the first place I’ve felt comfortable in since w
e left Arrberry, Miss Antiqua.”

  “It’s a vipers’ den!” her petulant mistress proclaimed.

  “And I believe Master Vincent—”

  “Must you call him that?”

  “—meant to bring you here all along—”

  “Since his shot went wide.”

  “—to protect your good name,” Lucy finished with tenacious triumph.

  “Humph! Some protection!” Antiqua muttered beneath her breath. The fight had gone out of her. What, after all, could she do when even her own maid had gone over to the enemy?

  She allowed Lucy to brush her hair into some order before the maid went belowstairs to do what she could to restore Antiqua’s rumpled gowns to some semblance of freshness. Thus, Antiqua was sitting alone in her nightdress, staring moodily out the window, when her hostess presented herself.

  “Good morning, Miss Greybill. I trust you’ve slept well and are feeling better.” Lady Julianne hesitated by the door, uncertain of her reception.

  “Yes, thank you,” Antiqua said slowly, suspiciously.

  In the clear light of day, Vincent’s sister looked even more kind, even more respectable than she had in the muted candlelight of the night before. With a vision unblurred by tears, Antiqua saw a woman to whom duplicity would be foreign. She felt at once relieved and confused. What sort of scoundrel would bring her to the protection of this woman?

  “That rascally brother of mine desires to call upon you,” Lady Julianne said.

  “No!” Antiqua burst out in distress.

  “You need not fidget yourself about having to see Jack if you do not wish to do so! He shall be sent packing until you are wishful of seeing him.”

  Antiqua’s confusion mounted. Why would Lady Julianne help her avoid Vincent? How had she managed to send him packing? Would he come back? Where had he gone just now, with the elder gentleman? She wished to ask a thousand questions, but merely gave a subdued, “Thank you.”

  Seeing the worry linger in those large brown eyes, Lady Julianne fluttered to Antiqua’s side. She sat facing the girl and forced a smile and a light tone. “Do you know, I’ve an old gown or two that might be just the thing for you. I’ve one in particular, a yellow thing which I adored while I was at Madame Benét’s, but detested the instant I had it home. The silly woman should have known it was not at all my color! But I can see it would be perfect for you. Shall I have my woman in to measure you?”