Devil's Cub Read online

  ‘Dear Mary,’ said his lordship, ‘hold your tongue!’

  ‘Very well, sir,’ replied Miss Challoner obediently.

  ‘First,’ Vidal said, ‘I must ask you to keep within doors while we remain in Dieppe. I don’t want a chance traveller to see you here.’

  Miss Challoner wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. ‘I will do as you wish, of course, but I do not think I number among my acquaintance anyone likely to be visiting France at this season.’

  ‘Possibly not,’ answered the Marquis. ‘But I number many. Second, I much regret that it will not be possible for me to marry you immediately we arrive in Paris.’

  ‘Do you mean, sir, that you have, upon reflection, perceived the wisdom of my plans?’

  ‘No, ma’am, I do not,’ Vidal said. ‘I mean that there are certain difficulties attendant upon the marriage of English Protestants in France.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Miss Challoner hopefully.

  ‘The obvious course is to visit the Embassy,’ said my lord, ‘but since the Ambassador is related to me and I know personally at least three of the Secretaries, the Embassy is the last place I shall visit.’

  ‘If,’ said Miss Challoner, ‘you feel so much aversion from displaying me to your numerous friends, sir, I wonder that you still persist in this determination to wed me.’

  ‘And if,’ said the Marquis with some asperity, ‘you would put yourself to the trouble of employing the brain I imagine you must possess, you might possibly perceive that my reluctance to display you to my numerous friends arises from motives of the most disinterested chivalry.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Miss Challoner said, unabashed. ‘Well, I could scarce be expected to think that, could I?’

  ‘Oho!’ said his lordship. ‘So you’ve claws, have you?’ Miss Challoner said nothing. ‘To put it plainly, Miss Challoner, the Ambassador, my esteemed cousin, and his Secretaries, my unregenerate friends, have not infrequently visited my hôtel when a lady was there to act as hostess. They would not consider the presence of a lady under my roof worthy of comment. But were I to walk into the Embassy with a request to be married at once to a lady, living already under my protection, I should cause, not comment, but something in the nature of an uproar. Within a week, my dear, it would be all over town that you’d run off with me, and trapped me into wedding you.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Miss Challoner, flushing.

  ‘Precisely, my love,’ said his lordship sardonically. ‘So since the reason for our marriage is to stop any breath of scandal attaching to your fair name, we shall be wed as quietly as I can contrive. After which, I can easily make it appear that I met you, very properly, in Paris, where you were sojourning with friends, and married you, most romantically, out of hand.’

  ‘I see,’ said Miss Challoner. ‘And how do you propose to achieve all this, my lord?’

  ‘There are still Protestants in France, my dear. All I have to do is to find a pastor. But it may not be easy, and until I have done it you will have to remain hidden in my house. I can’t trust my aunt or I’d place you in her charge.’ He paused. ‘There is of course my obese great-uncle Armand de Saint-Vire. No. His tongue wags too much.’

  ‘You would appear to have many relatives in Paris, sir,’ remarked Miss Challoner. ‘I felicitate you.’

  ‘You need not,’ said Vidal. ‘I am more in the habit, myself, of consigning ’em all to the devil. Not only is my mother a Frenchwoman, but my paternal grandmother must needs have been one too. The result, ma’am, is that my damned French cousins litter Paris. There is the aunt in whose charge I’ll not place you. She is more properly a cousin, but is known to my generation as Tante Elisabeth. You’ll meet her. She has a fondness for me. The rest of the family need not concern you. I never permit ’em to disturb me.’

  ‘And your obese great-uncle?’ inquired Miss Challoner.

  ‘Ah, he don’t belong to that side of the family. He’s the head of my mother’s family. He married upon coming into the title, very late in life. He is a friend of my father’s, and like him, has one son, my cousin Bertrand. You’ll meet him, too.’

  ‘Shall I?’ said Miss Challoner. ‘When?’

  ‘When I’ve married you.’

  ‘The prospect is naturally alluring, sir,’ said Miss Challoner, rising, ‘but even these treats in store don’t tempt me to marriage.’ Upon which she curtsied gracefully and walked to the door.

  ‘Vixen,’ said his lordship, as she opened it.

  Miss Challoner curtsied again, and withdrew.

  Upon the following morning she found his lordship partaking of a substantial breakfast, and since he seemed to be very much better, she made no demur. The surgeon visited the inn at noon, and although he exclaimed aloud against Vidal’s intention to travel that day, he had no objection, he said, to his patient leaving his bed for a short time. When he had gone Miss Challoner prevailed upon the Marquis to postpone their departure one more day. She spent the afternoon in her own room, but came down to the private salle shortly before the dinner hour, and walked plump into an agitated conference at the foot of the stairs.

  Several excited persons were gathered about a neat and unemotional gentleman in travelling dress of unmistakable English cut. M. Plançon, the landlord, was apparently trying to make himself intelligible to this gentleman, but in the intervals of volubility, he cast up despairing hands to heaven, while two serving-men and an ostler took up the tale with the maximum amount of gesticulation and noise.

  Miss Challoner hesitated, mindful of his lordship’s instructions, but at that moment the traveller said in a placid voice: ‘I regret, my good fellows, that I do not understand more than one word in ten of your extremely obliging advice, but I am English – Anglais, vous savez, and I do not speak French. Ne comprenny pas.’

  Miss Challoner’s motherly instincts were aroused. She moved forward. ‘If I could be of assistance, sir?’

  The neat gentleman turned quickly, and executed a bow. ‘You are very kind, madam. I find myself unable to converse with these fellows. It is amazing to me that amongst them all there is not one with a knowledge of the English tongue.’

  Miss Challoner smiled. ‘It is most reprehensible, sir, I agree. But if you will explain your difficulties to me, I may be able to interpret them to the landlord.’

  ‘I shall be excessively indebted to you, ma’am. Permit me to make myself known to you. My name is Comyn, and I have but this moment landed from the packet. It is my intention to travel by the stage-coach to Paris, and I was endeavouring when you came upon me to ascertain from these fellows when and where I may find the diligence.’

  ‘I will ask Plançon,’ said Miss Challoner, and turned to the landlord.

  Perceiving that she had constituted herself interpreter, M. Plançon opened negotiations with an impassioned plea to be preserved from these mad Englishmen who expected honest Frenchmen to understand their own barbarous language – and this in France, voyez-vous !

  At the end of an animated dialogue lasting for five minutes, Miss Challoner was able to inform Mr Comyn that the diligence would start for Paris in an hour’s time, and from this very inn.

  Mr Comyn thanked her, and begged that she would add to her kindness by informing the landlord that he required dinner immediately.

  Cheered by this information, M. Plançon disappeared to execute the order, and his hirelings drifted away upon their respective businesses.

  Mr Comyn said that he had been prodigiously fortunate to have found a countrywoman in Dieppe, and inquired politely whether Miss Challoner was also bound for Paris.

  Miss Challoner replied tranquilly that her plans were uncertain, and was about to retreat to the shelter of the parlour when Timms came down the stairs, bowed to her and said with distressing clarity: ‘His lordship’s compliments, madam, and he will do himself the honour of dining with you at five o’clock.�€