"Oh?" She kept her attention on the horse. While she did not know a great deal about animals, she had noticed that they tended to reflect the way they were treated in the way they behaved. This was an animal that had never known a harsh word or a blow when young, and even now feared no one and nothing. He had never been mistreated, only controlled, which was interesting in itself. She knew many, many men who, to prove that they could, would have "broken" a horse like this one. She guessed that Paul du Mond was one of them.
Another of those oblique glances came her way. "He likes to own people as well as things; he likes to control them. When he can't, he prefers to make certain no one else ever can or will."
She echoed his earlier shrug, and said nothing. Du Mond waited for her to say something, then suddenly conjured up a charming manner and ingratiating smile.
"I'm sure you've met men like him before, so that hardly surprises you," he said, as he edged a little closer to her. She pretended to adjust her skirt to give herself the excuse to step away, keeping him at the same distance as before. "Powerful men tend to use their power without thinking it might crush those beneath them. We underlings have to remember our place, but it always helps to have someone about who knows how to handle an employer, don't you think? Jason has some strange talents, and stranger friends than that Arab to help him enforce his will; it's best to be warned in advance, it seems to me."
"I suppose so; I've never been an employee before," she replied without committing herself. If I was as foolish as he seems to think I am, to be won over by a charming smile and a comradely manner, I might even believe what he's saying. Now, finally, she realized who he reminded her of—a particularly facile graduate student who had been everyone's friend—and who had used his ability to ingratiate himself with people to crib shamelessly from their research.
She had heard things like this, before. Like Paul du Mond, Steven Smythe-David had also hinted darkly of conspiracies among the other students and even the professors, conspiracies aimed at "eliminating the competition."
She had been one of the first to be taken in, but fortunately she was quick to recognize her own researches when she saw them in someone else's presentation; particularly when she knew that he had never read a single one of the medieval letters he had quoted. All of her weeks of research had been for nothing, since he was as quick to write a paper as he was to steal the work, and beat her by a good week.
She might have allowed the friendship to persist anyway because he had also pretended to the beginnings of a romantic interest. She even started to convince herself that if his interest went far enough, marriage was an option. She toyed with the notion of making a husband and wife partnership with him. She would conduct the research, and he would write the papers. Of course, she would get no credit, but that was no new thing; many men of science and letters had similar arrangements with their wives, if the wife had a scholarly bent... and certainly, this was often the only way that a woman's research would ever be given credence.
Then she realized that such an arrangement would be nothing less than absolute falsehood. Her realization coincided with the point when her father's fortunes went into decline, and there were no more gowns, parties, or opera excursions, only economy after economy. When her money evaporated, so did Steven's interest in her. When he ceased to call, she was hurt for a while, but not deeply, and she soon got over it when she saw what a shallow creature he was.
She had thought about warning some of the other students when he began approaching them, but they had treated her so shabbily that she decided to have a subtle sort of revenge by letting them find out for themselves why this charming fellow had decided to cultivate a friendship.
And they did, as Steven presented paper after purloined paper, the spread of his subjects seemingly demonstrating a great breadth of expertise and interest. One of the professors even remarked in ignorance that Steven showed enough knowledge for ten people.
Of course he did, since he was cribbing from ten people. Once Steven had presented his paper, of course, none of those he had defrauded could present their own without it looking as if they had cribbed from him instead of the other way around. Eventually he was caught and expelled, but she guessed that he had probably gone on to another university to begin the same game all over again—and eventually, he would get his degree out of his machinations. And then—probably a professorship, where he would bungle his way through teaching unsuspecting undergraduates the rudiments of classical literature. Half of what he taught would be wrong, but they would never know that, having no interest in the subject beyond passing the course. He would probably woo and wed the daughter of a wealthy man or of the president of the college, and so settle himself comfortably for life. He would exert himself only enough to see that his life was comfortable with a minimum of effort required to keep it that way.
Physically, Paul du Mond looked nothing like Steven, who had been the tall, athletic, hearty and flaxen-haired collegiate to the core. That was what had kept her from recognizing the similarity at first. Perhaps it was his tone, perhaps something in the way he gestured; perhaps it was something else entirely but now that she had the reference, her instinctive urge not to trust him had something she could base it on, and she was not about to let him charm her.
Much less seduce me, she thought grimly. But she allowed none of this to show, as she eased herself a little further away from him. "Well, although my duties will not commence until after dinner, I am sure I am keeping you from very important work, Mr. du Mond," she said lightly, swinging her basket in the hand nearest him to keep him from making the excuse to pick it up and carry it for her, and to force him to keep his distance. After all his hints about how important he was to Jason Cameron, he could hardly reverse himself and claim he had plenty of time to waste now! "I have a great desire to view the ocean, since I have never seen it this closely before. I'll be getting along now, so that I can be back before sunset. Good afternoon!"
And with that, she struck off down the path that the map said eventually led to the sea, leaving du Mond staring after her. Evidently he had never been cut dead quite so cleverly before; she'd left him speechless.
Perhaps now he thinks that I am even more foolish than I seem! She had no objection to that—provided he did not think that would make her easier to seduce.
Not that I have any illusions about my beauty—or rather, lack of it. But so far she had seen no other females about, and had certain knowledge only of the housekeeper, who was presumably of middle age or older. Hardly competition—
Assuming I was competing. She was not that desperate to change her single status.
Her path led beside the fence for a goodly way, and the horse left off his wind-dancing to trot along beside her, giving every evidence of enjoying her company. She had no objection, particularly if Sunset's presence would ensure du Mond's absence.
"I wish I knew how to ride," she said aloud to the frisking stallion. I think you might let me on your back."
The horse bobbed his head wildly, for all the world as if he was answering her in the affirmative, and she had to laugh aloud. "Perhaps Mr. Cameron will get you a nice little mare to keep you company, and you can settle down together," she said lightly. "Be good, Sunset. I will try to remember to bring you an apple next time."
Her path left the fenced-in field and plunged into a stand of lush trees at that point, and she left the horse standing at the fence, watching wistfully after her. Doubtless, he was longing for a good gallop outside of the fences. She felt cooler air close around her as she entered the shadows of the forest, and was glad she had worn clothing appropriate to the chill.