Danielle. examined him thoughtfully. "You are very beautiful, my husband." She walked into his arms.

"Wretch! Whatever did I do to deserve you?" Justin murmured as the soft pliant body reached against him.

"I expect you were very good when you were young," she informed him complacently.

Chapter 10.

"It seems to me, Peter, that the farrier has overestimated his expenses." Danielle looked up from her study of the ledgers piled on the desk in Linton's bookroom. It was later that same morning but there was no trace of the provocative sensual mistress of My Lord's bedchamber in this calm matter-of-fact lady of the house. She wore a simple morning gown of sprigged muslin over a very small hoop. Her unpowdered hair hung in soft, unconfined curls to her shoulders, and she was frowning.

It was a frown Peter Haversham was well accustomed to and one that boded ill for a comfortable morning. "I could find no fault with them myself, Lady Danny."

"Ah, but you do not understand these matters, Peter." She tapped an item in the ledger with an imperative forefinger. "Maximilian was shod two months ago. John and I agreed that he should be put to pasture for three months because of a strained tendon. It is not possible that he should then have required four new shoes a month ago. C'estune betise.'We will not pay this Monsieur Harker. He is a stupid man to think he can play such a trick."

A very stupid man, Peter reflected. But then there were few farriers working for the vast estates of the aristocracy who expected their bills to be subjected to the minute, informed scrutiny of a shrewd eighteen-year-old countess.

"I have also a small problem here, Peter." She skimmed through the pages of the ledger. 'This s.h.i.+pment of '73 claret was returned to the wine merchant-there was one musty bottle, you understand, so it was necessary to return the whole. We could not lay down a hundred bottles when the one Bedford and I sampled was contaminated."

"No, indeed not, Lady Danny," Peter concurred, wondering, nevertheless, how many other households returned an entire s.h.i.+pment on the basis of one bad bottle.

"But the wine merchant has billed us for carriage charges. We will pay half. Qa c'est reasonable, n'est ce pas? If he has a further problem, we take our account elsewhere."

"Are you making my poor Peter miserable, Danielle?" Linton closed the door behind him as he stepped into the room.

"Indeed not, milord," Danny protested. "At least, I do hope not. Am I making you miserable, Peter?"

"No, no, certainly not," Haversham made haste to disclaim. "Not as miserable, at least, as the farrier and the wine merchant will be."

Linton chuckled. He had had a most unpleasant meeting with his mother during which he had gently informed the lady that he or, in exceptional cases, the Earl and Countess of March were the only people who had the right to take his wife to task. Looking at Danny now, he was rea.s.sured that the confrontation had been correct. The urchin side of her was his and only his and it was a side of his wife that Justin cherished. Just as he cherished the puckered brow, the firm lips, and the sharp uncompromising eyes as she unraveled the intricacies of his household accounts.

On more than one, occasion in the last six months he'd listened to Peter's admiring explanations of how much wasteful expenditure had been cut, and then how the money saved had been designated to improve the tenant farms and the lot of various individuals who, through ill health or misfortune, found themselves in difficulties. Danielle, in the two months of their honeymoon, had ridden the acres of Danesbury, more often than not in britches, and had learned in those few weeks more than Justin had ever deemed it necessary to know. That knowledge she had proceeded to turn to good use and should one of the earl's factotums be so misguided as to disagree with her, he found that the tomboy countess could play many parts.

"We are hardly in financial straits, my love," Linton now said, examining the ledgers. "These are no great sums."

"No," she agreed. "But the principle is great. If you allow yourself to be robbed in small ways, my lord, then you give tacit permission for greater losses."

Justin remembered that he had married a de St. Varennes- a strong streak of economy ran in the blue veins of that branch of the French aristocracy. His wife had also known the extremes of poverty and near starvation. Waste of any kind was intolerable, but then neither was she miserly, as anyone who had cause to request her generosity was well aware. He pinched her cheek. "You will do as you think fit, my love."

Peter discreetly averted his eyes from the smiling exchange. They behaved sometimes as if he were not in the room, but strangely he felt enormously complimented by this easy acceptance.

An alerting knock on the paneled door and Bedford appeared. He carried a heavily embossed silver tray on which reposed a visiting card. "My lady." He bowed and presented the tray to Danielle.

She took the card, read it, and replaced it. "Would you tell the chevalier that I will join him directly?"

"In the drawing room, my lady?"

"Yes, thank you, Bedford." Danielle smiled and the butler's thin lips twitched in involuntary response before he left the room with ponderous tread.

"You have a visitor?" Justin poured two gla.s.ses of sherry, handing one to Peter. Danielle rarely took wine before noon.

"The Chevalier d'Evron," Danielle replied. "You have met, I think, Linton."

"I do not recall, but I daresay you are right." Justin actually remembered clearly his introduction to the chevalier-a sharp-nosed, thin-faced Frenchman, his body taut with a tension that had immediately communicated itself to Danielle. Justin had found this most disturbing, but without knowing why. He had dismissed the encounter in the fond hope that it would disappear from reality as easily as it did from memory and as far as he knew Danielle's acquaintance with the chevalier was slight. But slight acquaintances rarely paid morning calls without an ulterior motive. However, he had no justifiable cause for concern so he bowed to his wife and returned to his sherry and Peter.

Danielle's frown deepened as she mounted the stairs to the drawing room. She and D'Evron communicated briefly when they met at social functions, and when necessary sent terse notes. Only a matter of considerable importance would have brought him to her doorstep.

"Bonjour, chevalier." She greeted her visitor, closing the door firmly behind her.

D'Evron turned from one of the long windows overlooking the street. "Bonjour, comtesse."

"Voulez-vous prendre un verre?" Danielle laid a hand on the knotted bellpull.

"Non, merci." The chevalier waved a hand in quick denial of the offer of hospitality.

"D'accord. a.s.seyez-vous, s'il vousplait.''' Danielle sat herself on a brocade wing chair and indicated that her guest should take its fellow. "Qu'est ce qui se pa.s.se, mon ami?"

The direct question brought the direct answer. "I need your help, comtesse, in a desperate case; a situation in which your position and power as the Countess of Linton may make all the difference. You are an English lady and my own position as a mere Frenchman is not sufficiently powerful."

Danielle nodded. Bourgeois prejudice against the French was considerable, and the chevalier would be tarred with the same brush as his more unfortunate compatriots. "It is more than money this time, then?"

So far her contribution to the refugee cause had been purely financial. She had provided money and custom. Money to alleviate immediate difficulties, and her business and that of others of the haut ton to those who had the wherewithal and the courage to set up business again in a foreign land. Hairdressers, modistes, and jewelers, once under the patronage of the Countess of Linton, were beginning to make a living. But there were many others with problems that could not be solved in this way and she knew that the chevalier worked tirelessly to intercede for his countrymen whenever he could.

"There is a family in Steeplegate, comtesse. They live in great poverty. Monsieur found work with a shoemaker and madame has been taking in laundry. However, she is . . ."The chevalier colored slightly. "In a delicate situation and can no longer manage the heavy work. Monsieur injured his hand severely and was dismissed by the shoemaker. There are several young children in the family and the landlord intends to evict them this afternoon because they are behind with the rent."

"Then we must pay the rent," Danielle said simply. She received no allowance from Justin, merely carte blanche to draw on his bankers for whatever sums she required. It was an extraordinary arrangement and one that, if it became known, would cause many eyebrows raised in horror-the Earl of Linton maintaining no financial control over a bride barely out of the schoolroom! However, Linton had seen the absurdity of giving his wife pin money when she held the reins of his various households with such obvious competence. He never questioned her expenditures and Danielle had never thought to ask his permission to spend what were on occasion sizable sums to relieve the difficulties of her countrymen.

"I fear that will not suffice, comtesse," D'Evron said with a heavy sigh. "The landlord wishes to be rid of them. He finds the children troublesome and can extort the same rent from one tenant as he can from this family of five, soon to be six. Even had they the money, they face much difficulty in finding new lodgings with such a large family."

"Cochon!" Danny spat, rising to her feet. She paced the room giving vent to her outrage at this example of inhumanity in language that stunned the chevalier who knew nothing of her history. "Ah!" She stopped suddenly. "Mon Dieu, but what have I been saying? Je m'excuse, chevalier." She glanced anxiously at the door, half expecting to see her irate husband.

D'Evron couldn't help smiling. His friend and accomplice was no longer the sophisticated countess but rather resembled a guilty child caught in her naughtiness. "Please, milady." He made haste to rea.s.sure her. "There is no need for apology. I quite understand."

"But I do not think Milord would," Danny murmured. "At least, he would understand my feelings but not that manner of expressing them."

D'Evron said nothing since an appropriate response failed to come to mind.

"Eh bien." Danielle shook herself out of her uncomfortable reverie. "We shall visit this bete together. I feel sure we can . . . persuade . . . him to change his tune. At least until after madame is confined. Then, perhaps, if they care to live in the country, I shall contrive to settle them at Danesbury."

"But your husband, comtesse D'Evron demurred. But Danielle dismissed the half-spoken objection with an airy wave Justin would make no protest at a needy French family settling on his estates.

"Allons-y, chevalier. You have your carriage?"

"I am most grateful for your a.s.sistance, comtesse," D'Evron said hastily, "but should you not change your dress?"

Danielle's peal of laughter reached Justin as he mounted the stairs. The chevalier was clearly a more amusing companion than he had thought. He decided against joining them and continued on to his own apartments to change the morning dress necessary for waiting upon his mother for the buckskin britches and top boots of the horseman. He would ride with his wife in Hyde Park this afternoon in an attempt to quieten the gossips' tongues should her early morning adventures be as generally known as his mother feared.

"I will change immediately," Danielle declared. "You will wait a few minutes, mon ami?"

"Avec plaisir." The chevalier bowed, resigned to a considerable wait. A lady's idea of a few minutes spent on changing her attire was rarely consonant with reality.

However, it was but ten minutes later when Danielle emerged from her bedchamber and ran headlong into her lord.

"Where to in such a hurry, infant?" Linton laughed, taking in her driving dress of olive green velvet, a lace jabot at the high neck its only adornment. She wore one of her favorite tricorn hats, leather driving gloves, and a serviceable pair of riding boots instead of the kid or jean half boots that would normally be considered sufficient protection for a drive through the city streets.

"I am going for a drive with the chevalier, milord," Danielle informed him.

The earl put up his gla.s.s and surveyed her feet. "In riding boots, Danny?"

"Ah well, my others have a loose heel, tu comprends" she improvised glibly. "And these are, after all, tres comfortable."

Now what the devil was she up to? But Justin said merely, "I was hoping you would ride with me this afternoon, ma'am."

"Ventre a terre, milord?" Her eyes danced wickedly.

"No, most definitely not," he declared. "With sober decorum. I am hoping that the sight of you correctly dressed and escorted will dispel all memories of a hoyden galloping through the park at dawn."

"That does not sound at all amusant, sir."

"And driving with the Chevalier D'Evron is amusing?" he inquired.

Danielle frowned, but her lips curved. "I do not yet know, milord. But I shall find out, shall I not?"

Justin swung his riding crop at her departing rear and Danielle skipped with an indignant ouch. She stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder before gathering up her skirts and taking prudent flight in the direction of the drawing room.

Linton shook his head with a rueful smile. There could be no possible objection to her driving,with D'Evron. He was perfectly respectable and received in all the best houses. He was known to be quiet and sober to a fault and not overly enamored of the Season's round of gaiety-a sensible man in short. So why then did Justin feel this sense of unease? But as he had agreed long ago with Pitt, Danielle required the lightest hand on the strongest curb-a hand so light that she would be unaware of the curb. He would draw back on the reins only when it was evident that he had no choice, and in a year or so she would be sufficiently established, matured by motherhood perhaps, to have her own hands on her own reins. Linton frowned at the last thought. He was in no hurry for his brat to grow up too quickly-her childhood had lacked the usual elements of play and security and she was ent.i.tled to some playtime now. But, nevertheless, it was a little strange that she had not yet conceived. However, she was barely eighteen and if her body was not ready he could afford to wait awhile before setting up his nursery.

Since Danielle was otherwise occupied, Justin decided to pay his visit to Margaret Mainwairing. The ride to Half Moon Street was a pleasant one on this crisp March afternoon and the earl was conscious of a degree of pleasure in the prospect of his ex-mistress's company. Margaret was a sensible woman and, while her companions.h.i.+p could never be as stimulating as that of his wife's, she could be restful. She had not Danielle's ready wit and sense of fun, but, in spite of her self-imposed seclusion from Society's larger gatherings, kept herself well informed as to the latest on dits and had considerable perspicacity. Justin was intensely curious as to what had led her to such an indiscretion as last night's urgent message- something of moment, undoubtedly. Margaret was always the soul of discretion.

A lad ran to hold his horse as he dismounted outside the small pretty house on this quiet unfas.h.i.+onable street. It was a street for indigent widows, young married couples, and young sprigs making their first forays into society without sufficient means. Margaret was far from indigent but had no wish for grandeur. She also had no wish for the genteel seclusion of Kensington-who would visit her in Kensington? Half Moon Street was both well placed and respectable, entirely suitable for the retiring widow of a gentleman of respectable lineage and moderate fortune.

"Good day, Liza." His Lords.h.i.+p smiled at the maidservant who took his hat with a bobbed curtsy. "Is your mistress at home?"

"Abovestairs, my lord." Liza tried to hide her surprise at this unexpected appearance. My Lord had not visited Half Moon Street in over a year and the reason for his absence was no secret to Lady Mainwairing's household. Had he already tired of his bride?

"Will you not ask Her Ladys.h.i.+p if she will receive me?" Linton put up his gla.s.s and examined the maid with a raised eyebrow, his voice gentle.

Liza blushed and made haste to her mistress's boudoir. Justin looked idly around the small, well-remembered hall. Everything appeared in order: visiting cards on the silver tray on the piecrust table, the smell of beeswax and lavender that he always a.s.sociated with Margaret's house.

"My Lord Linton. How delightful in you to call." Lady Mainwairing almost ran down the straight staircase, hands outstretched in greeting.

Justin raised them both to his lips as he bowed. "Your servant, ma'am."

"Pray come into the parlor. Liza, you will bring the claret for His Lords.h.i.+p." She moved swiftly to the left of the stairs, Justin following, and whisked into the bow-windowed parlor overlooking the street. "My friend, I am truly grateful. I have been at my wits end, or I would never have written to you in such a fas.h.i.+on."

Justin closed the door behind him. She looked drawn and tired and every day of her thirty-seven years, her pale complexion unrelieved by the lavender silk gown. He felt only friends.h.i.+p and a deep regard for her. "Tell me how I may help you, Margaret."

Margaret, if she had cherished any hopes of a lingering pa.s.sion in her erstwhile lover's bosom, now relinquished them. This was not the cynical, world-weary lover of their past. He looked ten years younger now that the full lips had lost their cynical twist and the blue black eyes carried no boredom, only interest and more than a hint of humor.

"She is good for you, the little de St. Varennes," Margaret said involuntarily. In earlier days, Justin would have responded to such a personal comment with an instant stiffness and a sardonic set down. Now he simply smiled and Margaret gasped at the transformation. Before she could say anything further, however, Liza appeared with decanter and gla.s.ses.

Justin took an appreciative sip, reflecting that Danielle would also approve. It was a reflection, though, that had no place at the moment. "How can I help you, Margaret?" he repeated.

"It is Edward."

"Edward?" Margaret's son, Justin knew. "Is he not at Oxford still?"

"He has been sent down." Margaret paced the room, plucking at her sleeve, her face averted.

"That is no great sin," Justin said, puzzled. "I was sent down myself for a term ... a c.o.c.kfight, as I recall, in my rooms," he mused with a reminiscent grin.

"This is no prank, Justin. Edward has gambling debts that he cannot pay." Margaret looked at him directly, her face haggard as she confessed Society's one unforgivable sin.

"Can you not pay them for him?"

"I have done so, but it does not alter the fact that he is disgraced. He played beyond his means and had to admit that fact. I settled his IOUs but by then the damage had been done."

Justin nodded. Society would tolerate any peccadillo except one involving honor. But Edward was young, young enough to live this down. "He is but a babe, Margaret, and memories are short. If he remains out of town for the Season I dare swear that by next season all will be forgotten if he conducts himself well."

"But he is not prepared to do so." Her voice was low. "I cannot control him, Justin. His father would perhaps have been able to but Edward is beyond my management. I ... I am greatly afraid that gambling is in his blood. He will have a respectable fortune when he comes of age, but not sufficient for . . . for this." She looked at him, the blue eyes wide with appeal and glazed with unshed tears.

'There is no fortune sufficient for the true gambler," Justin observed with a frown. Too many families had been ruined by that unfortunate predeliction. "Is your son in town?"

Margaret nodded. "I do noi know exactly what is happening but I fear the worst. He is a friend of Shelby's . . ."

"If he is running with that crowd, then you may as well consign him to the devil," Justin interrupted harshly.

"Please . . ." she whispered.

"What is it you wish of me, my dear?" Justin strode to her and took the cold hands between his own. "You have only to ask."

"Will you . . . will you talk to him?" At the look of horror in Linton's eyes she went on hastily. "You have much experience with the young, Justin. You seem to know just how to teach them to go on in the right way . . ."

"You refer to my guardians.h.i.+p of Julian?" Justin frowned.

"My cousin had his share of youthful high spirits, I grant you, but rarely went beyond the line of what is pleasing." He did not add that Lord Julian Carlton's youthful indiscretions would be more readily forgiven by society than those of Edward Mainwairing. Julian's fortune and lineage far exceeded the respectable.

"I was thinking also of your present circ.u.mstance," Lady Mainwairing went on, dropping her eyes. "Your wife is not always the soul of propriety but she is very young and you manage to control . . ."

Justin released her hands abruptly and took snuff from an exquisite enameled box. His eyes were bored, face expressionless.

Margaret made haste to retrieve her mistake. "Pray forgive me, Justin. I spoke without thought. I meant no criticism ... I was thinking only that your position and your experience of guiding the young might help Edward."

"I suggest you buy him a pair of colors, Margaret, and see what a little military discipline will do for him. It would certainly remove him from the company of Shelby and his like."