Part 22 (1/2)
”It is, perhaps, time we retired to our rooms,” hinted Lady Stern. ”Come, Lady Cecile, we must have a nice coze before we sup.”
Lady Cecile hesitated, then seeing that Lady Juliane had turned her attention to Sir Percival, agreed.
”We must. It will be most delightful. You can give me your opinion on my gown for tomorrow evening,”
she said with a wide smile for Lord Adrian.
”I am sure you both will be breathtaking,” Adrian said as he escorted the two ladies to the door.
Lady Juliane disengaged herself from Sir Percy. ”Then we must all be persuaded you will be matchless,”
she purred. Instantly regretting her childish cattishness, Juliane brushed past those at the door and did not even notice Comte de Cavilon as she hurried past him to her room.
”You have been up to something, my friend,” reproached the comte as he entered the salon Lady Juliane
had just left. He made a slight bow as Lady Stern and Lady Cecile excused themselves.
”Lady Juliane did not even notice my raiment,” he commented with a sniff and a wave of his lace kerchief.
Sir Percival fidgeted with his lace. He was always uncertain as to what action to pursue in the presence of the comte.
”Percy, you had better change for supper. Your lace is wilting,” snapped Lord Adrian.
”Oh, of course, Cousin Adrian.
”Till we sup, Comte de Cavilon.” He bowed and retreated. The comte returned the bow perfunctorily and then turned to face Adrian. ”Why be so irritable with lepauvre compagnon?
”You are not yourself,” Cavilon added and closed the doors of the salon. ”What has happened to those iron nerves of yours?”
”Enough of your foolishness, Louis. Did you have any success?” ”Whoever said the English were serieux. You have the French temperament.” He smiled as LordAdrian glowered at him, then became serious.
”I have had some success,” the comte said is a low voice.
”The four Frenchmen evidently followed Lady Juliane and the children from France. They must have thought to find the information or whatever they seek on her maid. I believe they killed the woman ”One, at least, is of the aristocratie. From the local gossip, fowl and other items have been disappearing since you arrived. They must be close by.”
”Bah! That is nothing I do not already know.”
”Ah, yes, but I received a letter delivered only this morning with information on Andre's father, Baron de la Croix, which I believe you will find tres interessant.” Comte de Cavilon pulled the letter from an inner pocket and held it out.
”After you read this, you will be ready to lay plans.”
Reaching her room, Lady Juliane slammed the door behind her. With the back of her hand she wiped away the tears that bad come unbidden to her eyes.
”Tears,” she muttered angrily. ”What kind of fustian behaviour is this? Find your backbone,” she admonished. ”Why let that bit of fluff bother you? She will wear out her eyelashes batting them at Lord Adrian.
”Why should I care if that is what he prefers-it'd serve him right to end up on her hook. She would make him squirm the rest of his life.”
This thought quieted Lady Juliane's turmoil. When Bess entered a short while later, she found her ladys.h.i.+p pensively staring into s.p.a.ce.
”I am sorry I am late, my lady. We have all been pressed into extra duties, what with the ball being on the morrow. It will be the most glamorous thing I have ever seen.
”But come, my lady, you must dress or you will be late. Which gown will it be? The puce, or perhaps...”
”No,” said Lady Juliane, rising. ”The velvet mahogany.”
Bess his a smile. News of Lady Cecile's arrival had spread rapidly among the household staff. It heartened Bess that Lady Juliane was finally taking interest in her appearance. This could only denote something interesting in the offing.
That evening Lady Juliane entered the salon quietly. She had no desire to draw undue attention to herself and was confident in her appearance. Her gla.s.s's reflection had not told her she was beautiful. Certainly not in the style of Lady Cecile, but it had been far from condemning.