Page 55 of Dangerous Illusions (Dangerous #1)

Surprising him, Penthorpe said, “I think you’d have to call it a draw, but if Seacourt hadn’t put in his mite, St. Merryn would have been routed.

First Daintry tells her papa she can’t leave before the St. Merryn ball—Oh,” he added, scrabbling in his pockets and drawing out a crumpled gilt-edge card, “nearly forgot. Odd way to invite a fellow to a ball, but Lady Ophelia slipped this to me as I was going and told me to give it to you.”

“Did she now?” Gideon said, smoothing the card. Then, grinning, he added, “I think you will like Lady Ophelia, Andy.”

“Well, I don’t think it,” he said roundly. “It’s my belief the old dragon is responsible for Daintry’s dashed odd notions.”

“Oh, yes, you are quite right about that,” Gideon said, rubbing a hand across his aching brow.

“Sore head?”

“A little,” he admitted, “but Kingston left me several packets of headache powders to take until they go off. I’d take one now, but the damned things send me right off to sleep.”

“Don’t let me keep you up,” Penthorpe said with a sigh. “Dash it all, Gideon, I never meant to put everyone in an uproar, but what’s a fellow to do? It’s plain as a pikestaff St. Merryn means to have me in the parson’s mousetrap before the cat can lick her paw, and what’s more, so does Daintry.”

“Does she?” Gideon regarded him more alertly.

“Just told you she did. Not that I’m complaining, of course, but I did hope for time to find my feet again before I got riveted, and I won’t deny she ain’t what one would expect Lady Susan’s sister to be.

Not that she’s not well enough, and not that Susan’s looking her best these days either,” he added.

“Looks pinched, and she’s a dashed sight too thin for my liking. ”

“You’ve seen her then.”

“Oh, aye, they came in while St. Merryn was flying into alt over my rise from the dead. She was too pale, and skinny as a broom straw. Does Seacourt starve her as well as beat her? And who the devil is Lady Catherine Chauncey?”

“Ah, so she is back in the play, is she?”

“Don’t know about any play, but she was there right enough.

Thought at first she must be some relation to Susan, because she kept hovering over her, begging her to sit down and rest as if she were recovering from an illness or some such thing, then sat down right beside her, telling Captain Hackum to fetch his wife a pillow and to ask the footman to bring her a glass of water.

She seemed kind enough but a bit odd. Who the devil is she? ”

“According to your betrothed, she is Seacourt’s mistress.”

“Do stop calling the wench my betrothed, Gideon!” He flushed, adding, “Your tone ain’t at all polite, dash it, so if you don’t want to answer to me, old son, mind your lip.”

Gideon smiled lazily. “Well, if you think you can—”

“I don’t mill down cripples,” Penthorpe said with a crooked grin. “Oh, sit still, or you will have to be taking those dashed powders of yours. What did the sawbones say in the end?”

Chuckling, Gideon said, “That’s right, you milk-livered turn-tail, you ran off and left me to his damned untender mercies, didn’t you? By heaven, I ought to get up to you.”

“Cupped you, did he?”

“He did not. I’ve too great a desire to keep my blood in my veins after Waterloo. We had a bit of a discussion about it, but the result was that he predicted a high fever for me, which never came about, and headaches, which did. He ordered me to keep to my bed until the headaches pass.”

Penthorpe made much of looking around the well-appointed library. “Lots of furniture in here, of course, but I don’t see a bed anywhere. Got it hidden behind one of the bookshelves?”

“If you must know, I came in here to escape a pair of my servants who insist upon competing with each other to nursemaid me, but never mind about that.

“You were telling me the encounter was a draw. Are they returning to Cornwall?” He glanced at the card he still held in one hand.

“They cannot be if Lady Ophelia is sending me an invitation for the twenty-sixth.”

“They go directly afterward,” Penthorpe said, “but that’s on account of Captain Hackum.

Said he never could fathom how it was St. Merryn had so little control over his household.

He made a joke of it all, but I could see Daintry did not think it was so dashed amusing, and nor did St. Merryn.

Seacourt told him, the first thing they knew, she’d be advising the Princess Charlotte to begin as she meant to go on and never let poor old Prince Leopold get the upper hand, and St. Merryn blustered back as to how she would do as she was bid.

Don’t see the problem, myself. Dash it, what would Daintry have to do with advising a princess? ”

“Nothing, of course. It is just Seacourt’s way of making mischief. He doesn’t like her much, you see.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual if you ask me,” Penthorpe said.

“If looks could kill, that man would be dead, but I don’t think she likes you much either, my lad, although when I first chanced to mention your little accident last night, I thought she cared a great deal—went paper white, and I’d swear her hands trembled and she had to catch them together and hold them in her lap—but the next moment I knew I must have been mistaken, for as soon as I said you’d be as right as a trivet in a day or so, she turned to Lady Jerningham—Did I mention the old gossip was sitting smack in the middle of all this with the Cardigan woman, and both of them soaking it all up like sponges, I’ll wager, while pretending to tell Lady Catherine all about this Prince Leopold fellow and how he means to visit the Regent at Brighton?

Well, Daintry turns to her and says”—he raised his voice an octave—“‘And what did you think of Prince Leopold when you met him, ma’am?’” Dropping his voice back to its normal tone, he went on, “Five minutes later she had them all talking politics, of all ridiculous things, though even St. Merryn seemed willing enough to listen to her spout off about the wickedness of the Corn Laws. Only Seacourt disagreed with her—said it was important to keep the corn prices up so the landowners didn’t lose their shirts—but she snapped his nose off, said she’d expect just such nonsensical talk from him and that he was a fool. ”

Gideon chuckled again. “She did, did she? That young woman is bound for disaster.”

“Well, you needn’t look so dashed gleeful about it,” Penthorpe said with asperity.

“Like as not, she’ll take me straight along with her.

Look here, Gideon, if St. Merryn does insist upon pushing this wedding business forward, you won’t desert me, will you?

What I mean is, if I do have to go down to Cornwall, you’ll come along to support me, won’t you?

I suppose I shall need a best man, after all. ”

“I will certainly do what I can to help you, Andy,” Gideon said, “and I can go back to Cornwall with you since I’ve nothing much better to do, but I doubt I should serve as your best man.”

“I forgot that dashed feud.”

“Well, St. Merryn hasn’t. If I had my way, I’d end the thing at once by any way that would satisfy him, but my father wouldn’t like it, and I don’t want to infuriate him.”

“A most dutiful attitude, dear boy,” Jervaulx said from the doorway, his voice bringing both men instantly to their feet in a manner that made Gideon’s head begin to pound and left him dizzy.

Neither he nor Penthorpe had heard the door open, and they both regarded the marquess in some dismay as he moved into the room and laid a pile of papers on a side table.

Turning back to them and extracting an enameled snuffbox from his waistcoat pocket, he added with apparent complaisance, “Your return, Andrew, has caused a few flutters of uncertainty at the defense ministry. Apparently you have encountered a minor obstacle to selling out.”

“Don’t I know it, sir?” Penthorpe said with a sigh.

“Went round there this morning, thinking I’d best get things in motion, and dashed if they didn’t tell me that since I’ve somehow managed to become officially dead, I can’t sell out.

A dashed nuisance, that’s what it is.” An arrested look entered his eyes, and he added thoughtfully, “I say, what if the parson should refuse to call out the banns for a dead man?”

Jervaulx took a pinch of snuff. “There can be no trouble about that, dear boy. There are reasonable men in the present Government, you know, and a word has been dropped in a few helpful ears. Your next attempt will no doubt prove much less frustrating for you.”

Seeing that Penthorpe had not understood, Gideon said, “I believe he means he has cleared the way for you, Andy.” He eyed Jervaulx curiously, wondering why he had exerted himself. “Much obliged to you, sir. Your influence must be of help to him.”

Jervaulx nodded, restoring his snuffbox to his waistcoat pocket.

Then, looking directly at Penthorpe, he said, “The sooner you take advantage of that more reasonable attitude, Andrew, the better it will be. Moreover, Gideon is supposed to remain in bed, and there is a great deal more for a busy man to attend to here before this day will be over, as you see.” He gestured toward the papers on the side table, then added gently, “Of course, if you prefer to put the matter off in your usual custom, you are quite welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

Penthorpe stammered his thanks, mixing apologies with assurances that as soon as he had seen Gideon safely up to his bedchamber he would go directly to the defense ministry, assuring the marquess that he had given up his habits of procrastination once and for all, and that Jervaulx need not concern himself further with his few trifling difficulties.

Jervaulx said in the same gentle tone, “One of the footmen will assist Gideon upstairs in a few moments, Andrew.”

Penthorpe hesitated, but at Gideon’s slight nod, he took himself off, and when the door had shut behind him, Gideon turned warily toward his father, bracing himself and ignoring the pounding in his head, but wishing the simple act of standing had not made him feel so dizzy.

Jervaulx frowned. “When was the last time you took one of Kingston’s powders?”

“Hours ago,” Gideon said, still watching him. “I’m all right, sir. In fact, I daresay I feel better than you do. You look worn to the bone.”

“Nonsense. Don’t try to change the subject.”

Gideon sighed. “I know I spoke out of turn, sir, but may I sit down for this lecture? I warn you, I’m a trifle too dizzy to maintain a parade posture for longer than a minute or two.”

“You are a trifle old for lectures, too. Moreover, there can be little cause for vexation, in that the sentiments you expressed—the last ones, at all events—were entirely appropriate. A dutiful son ought not to infuriate his father.”

Despite the reasonable nature of these words, Gideon did not feel that he had been given permission to sit. He said carefully, “If I cannot feel as you do about that feud, Father, it is because I have no understanding of it. To my mind the damned thing ought to be laid to rest once and for all.”

“That will, of course, be your right when you succeed to the title,” Jervaulx said.

“One would think that a certain amount of family loyalty would prevail, but that is no more than a matter for conjecture at present, and until you are recovered from your injury, you will be much better off in your bed.”

Gideon, having little enough energy even to stand, let alone to debate the matter, said, “As you wish, sir,” and moved toward the door.

When he reached it, he paused with his hand on the handle and, turning back, said, “What brought you back so early? Usually, you do not return from the House until after nine.”

Jervaulx’s frown deepened. “There will be no vote for days, and one begins to find the interminable dissension intolerable since it is perfectly plain to anyone with sense that the economy of this country depends upon keeping the price of corn high enough to ensure a profit for the farmers who grow it. Moreover, as you see—” He gestured once again toward the stack of papers.

“Does it not concern you to know, sir, that in Cornwall, miners cannot afford to feed their families because they cannot afford the price of a loaf of bread?”

“Certainly it does, but one votes for Gloucester not for Cornwall, and in point of fact, if the economy of the corn and wheat growing counties can be improved—as it should be now that there is peace—there will be a greater call for tin and other Cornish products, so the mines will open again and the economy of Cornwall will improve. Do not argue what you do not know, lad.”

“What I know, sir,” Gideon said doggedly, “is that there is great distress at home, caused I think, by this sudden return to peace after twenty years of war and by the return of great masses of men hitherto employed at sea and in the army. People cannot even travel in safety. Why, I have been fired upon twice.”

“Such unrest must be firmly put down.”

“I should think the problem would be better resolved if the distress of the people were alleviated,” Gideon said.

“You should perhaps join the Whigs,” Jervaulx said gently.

“And alienate you to the point of never speaking to me again? I think not, sir.” A particularly sharp pain shot through his head, and though he fought to keep it from showing in his countenance, he saw Jervaulx’s expression sharpen.

“Go to bed, Gideon. You are fitted neither physically nor mentally for this discussion. When you are on your feet again, perhaps you will find time amidst your many social engagements to learn more about such matters as these.”

Gideon smiled ruefully. “I confess, I do not know much about them, sir, but I do intend to return to Cornwall soon to continue my lessons. Before that date, however, I have been invited to attend a ball and I do not intend to miss it.”