These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

‘As you will, as you will! Damme, I’d like to see Julia’s face an she knew!’ He chuckled impishly.

She nodded. He had told her of Mistress Falkner already.

‘I do not suppose that she would like me,’ she observed. She swept a hand round, indicating the many portraits. ‘There are a great number of people in your family, are there not? This one is nice. He is like Monseigneur, a little.’

‘Lord, child, that’s old Hugo Alastair! Devilish rake-helly fellow! They’re a damned gloomy lot, all of ’em, and everyone has a sneer on his face for all the world like Justin himself. Come and look at this one; it’s my respected parent.’

Léonie looked up into Rudolph Alastair’s dissipated countenance.

‘He does not please me at all,’ she said severely.

‘Never pleased anyone, my dear. Here’s her Grace. She was French like yourself. Lord, did you ever see such a mouth? Fascinating, y’know but a temper like the fiend.’

Léonie moved on to where the last picture hung. An awed look came into her eyes.

‘And this is – Monseigneur.’

‘It was done a year ago. Good, eh?’

The hazel eyes under their drooping lids looked mockingly down on them.

‘Yes, it is good,’ said Léonie. ‘He does not always smile just so. I think he was not in a nice humour when that was painted.’

‘Fiendish, ain’t he? Striking of course, but Lord, what a damned mask of a face! Never trust him, child, he’s a devil.’

The swift colour flooded Léonie’s cheeks.

‘He is not. It is you who are a gr-r-reat stupid!’

‘But it’s true, my dear. I tell you he’s Satan himself. Damme, I ought to know!’ He turned just in time to see Léonie seize one of the foils. ‘Here! What will you be at – ?’ He got no further, but leaped with more speed than dignity behind a chair, for Léonie, her eyes flaming, was bearing down upon him with the rapier poised in a distinctly alarming manner. Rupert hoisted the chair, and held it to keep Léonie at arm’s length, a look of comical dismay on his face. Then, as Léonie lunged across the chair, he took to his heels and fled down the gallery in laughing panic, Léonie close behind him. She drove him into a corner, where he had perforce to stay, using his chair as a protection.

‘No, no! Léonie, I say! Hey, you nearly had me! The button’ll come off for a certainty! Devil take it, it’s monstrous. Put it down, you wild-cat! Put it down!’

The wrath died out of Léonie’s face. She lowered the foil.

‘I wanted to kill you,’ she said calmly. ‘I will if you say things to me like that of Monseigneur. Come out. You are cowardly!’

‘I like that!’ Rupert put the chair down cautiously. ‘Put that damned foil down, and I’ll come.’

Léonie looked at him, and suddenly began to laugh. Rupert came out of the corner, smoothing his ruffled hair.

‘You looked so very funny!’ gasped Léonie.

Rupert eyed her gloomily. Words failed him.

‘I would like to do it again, just to see you run!’

Rupert edged away. A grin dawned.

‘For the Lord’s sake don’t!’ he begged.

‘No, I won’t,’ Léonie said obligingly. ‘But you are not to say those things –’

‘Never again! I swear I won’t! Justin’s a saint!’

‘We will fence now, and not talk any more,’ said Léonie regally. ‘I am sorry I frightened you.’

‘Pooh!’ said Rupert loftily.