Devil's Cub (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 2)

Miss Challoner shook her head. There was a curious lump in her throat that made speech impossible.

‘Oh, very well, ma’am, if you prefer the attentions of Frederick Comyn!’ said the Marquis in a hard voice. ‘Be good enough to listen to what I have to say. I have discovered, through Carruthers, of the Ambassador’s suite, that there is a divine, lately passed through Paris, bear-leading some sprig of the nobility. They are bound for Italy by easy stages, and at this present are to be found in Dijon, where it appears they are making a stay of two weeks. He’s the man t

o do our business for us. I am about to abduct you for the second and last time, Miss Challoner.’ She made no reply. His eyes reached her face. ‘Well, have you nothing to say?’

‘I have said it all so many times, my lord.’

He turned away impatiently. ‘Make the best of me, ma’am; you dislike me cordially, no doubt. I’ll admit you have reason. But you may know, if it interests you, that I am offering what I have never offered to any woman before.’

‘You offer it because you feel you must,’ said Mary in a low voice. ‘And I thank you – but I refuse your offer.’

‘Nevertheless, ma’am, you’ll start with me for Dijon to-morrow.’

She raised her eyes to his face. ‘You cannot wrest me by force from this house, my lord.’

‘Can’t I?’ he said. His lip curled. ‘We shall see. Don’t try to escape me. I should run you to earth within a day, and if you put me to that trouble you might find my temper unpleasant.’ He walked to the door. ‘I have the honour to bid you good night,’ he said curtly, and went out.

Thirteen

Meanwhile, to anyone who knew her, Miss Marling’s reckless air of gaiety that night would have betokened an inward disquiet. She seemed to be in the highest spirits, but her eyes were restless, always searching the fashionable throng.

Paris had gone to Miss Marling’s head, and the attentions of such a known connoisseur as the Vicomte de Valmé could not but flatter her. The Vicomte protested that his heart was under her feet. She did not entirely believe this, but a diet of admiration and compliments spoiled her for the criticisms of Mr Comyn. When he first appeared at her cousin’s house she had tumbled headlong into his arms, but this first unaffected rapture suffered a check. She proceeded to pour into her Frederick’s ears a recital of all her pleasures and triumphs. He listened in silence, and at the end said gravely that although he could not but be glad that she had found amusement, he had not thought that she would be so extremely gay and happy away from him.

Partly because it was the fashion to be coquettish, partly from a feeling of guilt, Juliana had answered in an arch, provocative way that did not captivate Mr Comyn in the least. Bertrand de Saint-Vire would have known just what to say. Mr Comyn, unskilled in the art of flirtation, said that Paris had not improved his Juliana.

They quarrelled, but made it up at once. But it was an ill beginning.

Miss Marling made Mr Comyn known to her new friends, amongst them the Vicomte de Valmé. Mr Comyn, with a lamentable lack of tact, spoke disparagingly of the Vicomte, whom he found insupportable. Truth to tell, the Vicomte, who was well aware of Mr Comyn’s pretensions, was impelled by an innate love of mischief to flirt outrageously with Juliana under the very nose of her stiff and disapproving lover. Juliana, anxious to awake a spark of jealousy in what at that moment seemed to her an unresponsive heart, encouraged him. All she wanted was to be treated to a display of ruthless and possessive manhood. If Mr Comyn, later, had seized her in his arms in a decently romantic fashion there would have been an end to the Vicomte’s flirtation. But Mr Comyn was deeply hurt, and he did not recognise in these signs a perverted expression of his Juliana’s love for him. He was young, and he handled the affair very ill. He was forbearing where he should have been violent, and found fault when he should have made love. Miss Marling determined to teach him a lesson.

It was this laudable resolve that took her to the Hôtel Saint-Vire. Mr Comyn should learn that it was unwise to lecture and criticize Miss Marling. But because under her airs and graces she was really very much in love with him, she induced her cousin to provide him with a card for the ball.

The Vicomte de Valmé was her partner for the first two dances, and when they came to an end he took her off to a convenient alcove, and made intoxicating love to her. He was interrupted in this agreeable task by the sudden appearance of Vidal, who said unamiably: ‘Give me leave, Bertrand: I want a word with Juliana.’

The Vicomte flung up his hands. ‘But I find you quite abominable, Dominique! Always you want words with Juliana! J’y suis, j’y reste. Have you yet slain me this Frederick?’

‘Vidal, did you give Frederick a card for the ball?’ Miss Marling asked anxiously.

‘I gave it to him, but I don’t think he’ll use it.’

‘A la bonne heure! ’ said the irrepressible Vicomte. He laughed impudently up at the Marquis. ‘For what do you wait, mon cher ? You are infinitely de trop.’

‘I await your departure – but not for long,’ said his lordship.

The Vicomte gave an exaggerated start. ‘A threat, Juliana! I scent it unerringly. He will presently shoot me: I am as good as dead, but if you give me the roses you wear at your breast I shall die happy.’

Vidal’s eye gleamed. ‘Will you go as happily through that window?’ he inquired.

‘By no means!’ said the Vicomte promptly. He rose, and kissed Miss Marling’s hand. ‘I surrender to force majeure, dearest Juliana. He has no finesse, our cousin. He will undoubtedly throw me out of the window if I linger.’

‘Well, I don’t think it very brave of you to give way to him,’ said Miss Marling candidly.

‘But, my adored one, observe his size!’ implored the Vicomte. ‘He would be very rough with me, and spoil my so elegant coat. I go, Vidal, I go!’

Miss Marling waved an airy farewell, and turned to her cousin. ‘I find him excessively amusing, you know,’ she confided.

‘I see you do,’ said Vidal. ‘Where is Mary Challoner?’

Miss Marling opened her eyes very wide. ‘Don’t you like him, Vidal? I thought he was a friend of yours.’