‘All these soldiers,’ she complained, adding with a sweep of one arm at the major’s dress, ‘all of them in red as you. And this idiot, he has threatened to arrest me and make them take me to prison. What would you? I cannot fight them all.’
‘No, of course you could not,’ Gerald soothed. ‘Monstrously unfair of you, Hilary.’
‘Unfair!’ echoed his junior.
‘And this is not all,’ went on the lady, evidently determined to disclose all her wrongs. ‘When I thought to make them sympathique for me, with a little tear, you understand, and some tricks feminine of this kind—’
‘Feminine tricks, too?’ cut in Gerald admiringly, controlling a quivering lip. ‘Very useful, of course.’
‘Useful certainly. But he tells them that I am a spy. One cannot expect that soldiers can be sympathique to one they believe may be a French spy. That is not reasonable.’
‘A very low stratagem, Hilary,’ Gerald said, turning on his captain with mock severity. ‘How could you? No wonder mademoiselle is angry with you.’
‘What?’
Roding’s glare tried Gerald’s control severely, but he pursued his theme unheeding. ‘I am extremely displeased. It is no fault of your own that you are not at this moment standing there with your head blown off.’
Mademoiselle, who had been nodding in agreement at Roding during the first part of this speech, abruptly turned to face Gerald again.
‘Parbleu,’ she uttered indignantly. ‘You imbecile. You make of me once more a game? Eh bien, I have told your friend that I will kill you, and if you will give me my dagger this minute, I shall do so at once.’
‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently. ‘I’m on your side.’
‘You are not on my side at all, and it will be better that, instead of saying such things to him, you would say them to yourself.’
Gerald opened his eyes at her. ‘You mean I should give myself a dressing-down? Very well.’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. ‘Gerald Alderley, I don’t know what you deserve. It will serve you out if I give her dagger back to mademoiselle, so that she can plunge it right into your chest.’
To his intense satisfaction, mademoiselle burst into laughter. ‘I have a very good mind to do so, imbecile.’
Gerald turned and came back to her. ‘That’s better. Come now, I am very glad to see you again so soon, mademoiselle whatever-your-name-is. We have a great deal to discuss, you and I.’
A wary look came over her face, and Roding intervened. ‘You won’t get a thing out of her. Not if I read her aright.’
‘Perhaps you don’t, Hilary,’ Gerald said mildly, smiling at the young lady and indicating one of the wide window seats. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced. ‘A word, if you please, my friend.’
They moved to the door, while the lady shrugged, and then seated herself, glancing from the window into the street below, and then turning again to watch them in their huddle at the other side of the library.
‘What is it?’ asked Roding. ‘What do you mean to do with her?’
‘Just keep her talking, that’s all,’ Gerald said quickly. ‘Long enough for you to see Frith for me.’
‘Your groom? What for?’
‘Get him to wait outside. Sooner or later she’s going to run away again, and I want Frith to follow her and find out where she’s living.’
Roding gave him a look of respect. ‘For once, you’re talking like a sensible man. I’ll do it. Seems you were right about Valade. She was definitely following him. Mark you, she wasn’t the only one. There was a young lad ahead of her. Footman or some such.’
‘Indeed? Interesting.’
‘Ain’t it? Want me to give you some time with her? Not that I think she’ll tell you anything.’
‘Yes, she will. But probably not the truth.’
Roding gave a bark of derisive laughter and left the room. Gerald crossed back to the window.
‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’
‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. ‘And I do not know why you are so polite, when you have been bad to me last night, and have taken my dagger.’
‘You were quite as bad to me as I was to you,’ Gerald protested mildly, sitting down beside her. ‘As for your dagger—’
She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back.
‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully. He took her hand in his, raising it closer, and gently touched the maltreated skin. She hissed in a breath and his eyes met hers. ‘It must be painful. I’m sorry. Forgive me.’
Her lips parted, but she did not speak. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his.
‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little.
‘R-rien. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice.
‘On the contrary,’ Gerald argued, frowning. ‘But if you must fight so furiously, I don’t see how I can promise not to do it again.’
At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away. ‘I will fight to the death, if it needs.’
A faint smile crossed Gerald’s lips. ‘I am sure you will. My death, probably.’
‘This, monsieur le major, is entirely your own affair,’ said the lady, haughty again. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die.’
