Maybella, who was eyeing Lady Arbuckle’s emerald bracelet with a bit of envy in her heart, said, “Georges Cadoudal’s son. His father died when he was only ten years old. That means he’s festered with hate for fifteen years. How very odd it sounds, and frightening.”
“I agree with you, Aunt,” Corrie said and took a spoonful of codfish au gratin from the footman’s proffered dish. “There was also a daughter. We haven’t yet been able to find out about either son or daughter.”
“It’s evil, evil,” said Maybella.
Neither twin spoke.
Lady Arbuckle finally cleared her throat, looked at Judith, and announced, “I believe it is all nonsense. There is no revenge at work here. I am convinced it is some foul Frenchman from a secret French society bent on destroying the very fabric of English society. Killing one of the premier noblemen of the realm, it is their opening salvo.” That announcement made, Lady Arbuckle returned to her fillet of whiting a la maitre d’hotel. She drew a deep breath, and for an instant, she closed her eyes, her fingers clutched around her knife.
Corrie said, leaning toward her, “Are you all right, my lady?”
“What? Oh, yes, Miss Tybourne-Barrett. The whiting is perhaps a bit too rich for me, that’s all.”
Judith lightly patted Lady Arbuckle’s hand. “I myself find it a little rich, Aunt. Why don’t you try some fricasseed chicken? I have found it quite tasty.”
Lady Arbuckle accepted the chicken and nodded as she chewed a small bite. “Yes,” she said, “it’s an excellent fricassee. Thank you, my dear.”
James said, “It’s a pity that Lord Arbuckle must remain in Cornwall, ma’am.”
“Ah,” said Judith, waving her fork, “my uncle adores being close to the Irish Sea. He is happiest when he is breathing in that salty air, feeling the sea winds ruffle his hair. Besides, the estate needs constant attention. He will not hear of another seeing to his responsibilities.”
Douglas, who didn’t know Lord Arbuckle well at all, was frankly tired of all the talk of his assassin, and was eager to learn more about this girl who might become part of his family. “I understand you come from Waterford.”
She nodded, giving him a dimpled smile that Douglas found charming. “Yes, my family raises Arabians. It is a fine country for horses, you know, and Waterford is an excellent area.”
“Who is there now?” James asked. “Jason told me that your father and mother were dead.”
“My cousin Halsey manages things now. In any case, Halsey was next in line when my father died. The farm is called The Coombes and Halsey is Baron Coombes.”
Jason picked up her fingers and squeezed them. “Judith has been alone too much of her short life, but Lord and Lady Arbuckle are seeing to her nicely.”
“Yes, they are,” Judith said, and leaned over to kiss Lady Arbuckle’s powdered cheek. “My very first season. I never thought it could happen, but my dearest aunt-” She broke off, tears sheening her dark eyes.
Jason squeezed her hand again, then launched off on one of his favorite topics-horses. He wanted to visit The Coombes, see the farm’s operation, examine the stock.
The conversation continued to James and Corrie’s wedding, which was to take place at St. Paul’s in three weeks’ time. Douglas shrugged. “I know the Bishop of London, Sir Norton Graves, a fine man who officiated at your christenings. He gave me a cocked eyebrow when I informed him that time wasn’t in great abundance, and thus I had no choice but to tell him exactly why your marriage was on the prompt side. It turns out, naturally, that he’d heard most of what had happened already, albeit slanted in a far more scandalous direction. Sir Norton has many ears in society, and to his credit, he rarely believes what he hears. James asked that he officiate, and he agreed.”
Corrie choked on an oyster patty. James immediately slapped her back.
“Are you all right?”
“Oh yes. It’s just to have your father speak about our getting married in such a matter-of-fact way-sometimes I still can’t believe it’s going to happen. Good heavens, in only three weeks. It closed off my throat there for a moment.”
James said, “It closes off my throat too. Don’t dwell on it. We’ll get through it. Now, I know you wanted a thousand people at least to overflow St. Paul’s, all of them cheering and waving you on your way, but Corrie, it’s not to be.”
“Perhaps five hundred?”
James laughed, and his mother said, “Maybella and I believe that it is best if we have about thirty people to witness our drama.”
James said, “I will ask several members of the Astrological Society to come. I wish you to meet them. Ah, perhaps you would care to come to a meeting with me, next Wednesday?”
“And I will show them you are getting the perfect wife. I will myself write and present a paper,” Corrie said, and looked so wicked Jason nearly spewed a mouthful of wine on his mother’s tablecloth.
“Yes,” James said, his voice serious as his Uncle Tysen’s when he was looking sin right in the face, “I think you should. I have already written about the cascade phenomenon. What should you like to present to the learned group?”
Corrie gave this some thought while she observed the roast goose on her plate. She picked up a roll, waved it at James, and said, “I want to speak about how vampires can come out only at night under bright moonlight, but not in the day when the sun beats down. That is, it beats down only occasionally here in England, which makes me wonder if English vampires have more freedom of movement than do, say, vampires from the Sahara Desert.”
James rolled his eyes. “No more about Devlin Monroe. I saw him hanging about you yesterday. What did he want?”
“He tried to convince me that he would make a superior husband to you.”
James, who took the bait swiftly, nearly leapt to his feet. “That damned bounder. That’s more than enough, that’s-”
“That was a jest,” Corrie said and gave him one of her patented sneers that he hadn’t seen since before she’d come to London.
Amidst the laughter, Alexandra led the ladies out of the dining room, leaving the gentlemen to their port.
“She got me,” James said, red-faced, staring into his glass of port.
“Yes, she’s quite good at it,” his brother agreed, “has been for years.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I believe that Judith is as skilled as Corrie. She too could bait a dead man, make him leap up, curse, and rattle his bones.”
“Yes, I’ve seen her do it,” James said. “I do wonder what Devlin Monroe is up to, though.”
“Nothing,” said Simon. “Nothing at all. I myself spoke to him, told him Corrie had been in love with you, James, since she was three years old, to which Devlin replied that Corrie was too unripe in the ways of men and the world to know what was what, that she was too young to be forced into this marriage, that you were taking gross advantage of her, and that I should challenge you to a duel and shoot you. I thought for a moment that the poor boy would burst into tears. But then he got himself together and said it was a lovely overcast day, didn’t I agree. Of course I agreed. Nearly every day is overcast. I didn’t want anymore of his melodrama. I wanted him to leave. Is he really a vampire, do you think?”
Corrie had been in love with him since she was three? A child adoring an older brother, yes, he could see that, but was this how her uncle saw it? She loved him? As a man?
At that moment, the gentlemen looked up at the sound of running feet, raised voices.
Corrie threw open the dining room door and yelled, “Quickly! James, oh dear, come quickly!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
WHEN THEY BURST into the stable it was to see that the three villains were gone, Remie was unconscious beside the door, and three stable lads were bound and gagged in the tack room.