Devil's Cub (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 2)

‘Then you are wrong, ma’am,’ replied his lordship icily.

‘Yes,’ Miss Challoner said rather sadly. ‘I see that I was. I suppose it was presumptuous of me. I am sorry, sir.’

She went slowly to the door. My lord said, in the voice of one goaded beyond endurance: ‘Oh, bring it back, girl – bring it back! I’ll swallow the brew if it will please you.’

Miss Challoner seemed to hesitate. ‘Yes, indeed, it would please me, but I do not at all desire to plague you with it.’

‘For God’s sake let’s have no more words!’ besought Vidal. ‘Give it to me, and have done!’

Miss Challoner obediently brought back the tray. She sat down by the bed, and watched his lordship drink the gruel. He looked suspiciously at her, but she preserved an innocent front. He finished what was left in the bowl, and put it down. ‘Mary,’ said he, ‘come a little closer and present your left cheek.’

A dimple quivered. ‘Why, sir?’

‘Don’t you know?’ said Vidal.

She laughed. ‘Why yes, sir. You would dearly love to box my ears.’

‘I should,’ he said. ‘Don’t think I’m deceived by that meek face! Where are you going?’

‘Down to the parlour, sir.’

‘Stay with me. I want to talk to you.’ This was decidedly a command. Miss Challoner raised her eyebrows in faint hauteur. Vidal grinned. ‘Dear Mary, pray do me the honour of remaining at my side.’

She sat down again, slightly inclining her head. ‘Certainly, sir, but I do not think I gave you leave to call me Mary.’

‘Give me leave now, then,’ said Vidal. ‘Are we not betrothed?’

She shook her head. ‘No, my lord.’

‘Dominic,’ he corrected.

‘No, my lord,’ repeated Miss Challoner steadily.

‘Mary,’ said his lordship, ‘may I proffer a piece of good advice?’ She looked inquiring. ‘Do not be for ever arguing with me,’ said the Marquis. ‘It will be very much better for you to refrain. My intentions are admirable, but I seldom act up to them, and I should not like to lose my temper with you again!’

‘But, indeed, my lord, I cannot –’

‘Dear Mary,’ said his lordship, ‘hold your tongue!’

‘Very well, sir,’ replied Miss Challoner obediently.

‘First,’ Vidal said, ‘I must ask you to keep within doors while we remain in Dieppe. I don’t want a chance traveller to see you here.’

Miss Challoner wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. ‘I will do as you wish, of course, but I do not think I number among my acquaintance anyone likely to be visiting France at this season.’

‘Possibly not,’ answered the Marquis. ‘But I number many. Second, I much regret that it will not be possible for me to marry you immediately we arrive in Paris.’

‘Do you mean, sir, that you have, upon reflection, perceived the wisdom of my plans?’

‘No, ma’am, I do not,’ Vidal said. ‘I mean that there are certain difficulties attendant upon the marriage of English Protestants in France.’

‘Oh!’ said Miss Challoner hopefully.

‘The obvious course is to visit the Embassy,’ said my lord, ‘but since the Ambassador is related to me and I know personally at least three of the Secretaries, the Embassy is the last place I shall visit.’

‘If,’ said Miss Challoner, ‘you feel so much aversion from displaying me to your numerous friends, sir, I wonder that you still persist in this determination to wed me.’

‘And if,’ said the Marquis with some asperity, ‘you would put yourself to the trouble of employing the brain I imagine you must possess, you might possibly perceive that my reluctance to display you to my numerous friends arises from motives of the most disinterested chivalry.’