These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

‘That is a nice dress, I think,’ she said.

Avon bowed.

‘I like it,’ Léonie said. ‘Monseigneur, I feel very brave now. What will you do to this pig-person when he comes?’

‘I shall have the honour of presenting you, my dear,’ Avon answered. ‘Let him have your haughtiest curtsy. It is a little game we play.’

‘Yes? But I do not want to curtsy to him. I want to make him sorry.’

‘Believe me, he will be very sorry, but the time is not yet. Bear in mind, ma fille, that you have not till now set eyes on my dear friend.’

‘Ah, bah, what is this?’ she demanded. ‘I know him well, and he knows me!’

‘Strive to cultivate a little imagination,’ sighed his Grace. ‘The so dear Comte stole my page, Léon. You are my ward, Mademoiselle de Bonnard.’

‘Oh!’ said Léonie doubtfully. ‘I must be polite, enfin?’

‘Very polite, child. And remember, you and I

are here for our health. We know naught of abductions, or evil drinks, or even – er – pig-persons. Can you play the game of pretence?’

‘But yes, Monseigneur! Will he pretend, do you think?’

‘I have reason to think, child, that he will follow my lead.’

‘Why, Monseigneur?’

‘Because, child, he has a secret which he suspects I share. But since it is a highly discreditable secret he would not like me to think that he had any knowledge of it. We fence, you see, but whereas I see my way clearly, he moves in darkness.’

‘Oh, I see!’ she said. ‘He will be surprised to find you, n’est-ce pas?’

‘I rather think he will,’ agreed his Grace. He went to the table and poured out two glasses of canary. One of them he gave to Léonie. ‘My dear, I drink to your safe deliverance.’

‘Oh, I thank you, Monseigneur! What shall I drink to?’ She put her head on one side. ‘Voyons, I will just drink to mon cher seigneur !’

‘Quite neat,’ said the Duke. ‘Gaston? A la bonne heure! You will journey back to Avon, Gaston, at once.’

Gaston’s face fell.

‘But yes, Monseigneur.’

‘Bearing with you this letter to my cousin. She will accompany you to France again.’

Gaston brightened perceptibly.

‘Further, you will go to Milor’ Merivale and obtain from him the clothes of Milor’ Rupert. It is understood?’

‘All Milor’ Rupert’s clothes, Monseigneur?’ asked Gaston, aghast.

‘All of them. If he is there, bring milor’s valet also. I had wellnigh forgot Mademoiselle Léonie’s maid. Instruct her to pack the rest of mademoiselle’s clothes, and bring her – and them – to me here.’

Gaston blinked rapidly.

‘Yes, Monseigneur,’ he said with an effort.

‘You will board the Silver Queen, of course, and you will convey your charges by coach to Portsmouth.’ His Grace tossed a fat purse to him. ‘At Portsmouth, on your way to Avon, you will seek out a certain roan horse.’

‘Bon Dieu! ’ muttered Gaston. ‘A roan horse, Monseigneur, yes.’