Page 22 of The Rebellious Lady and the Phantom Lord
“Exactly who he claims to be. The Marquis de Varnais.”
“If such a family and title exist. Did you make inquiries of the French Ambassador?”
“Ambassador!” Gilly snorted. “My dear, if you truly wish to know any secrets, you don’t go asking an ambassador. You speak to his footman or his cook.”
“And so what did his excellency’s footman have to say?”
“That the name of Varnais is well-known in the south of France. Both title and family are as ancient as Notre Dame. The present marquis’s parents died when he was but a babe. He hadtwo elder brothers, both of whom are also dead, without issue. Consequently, the title came to de LeCroix.”
“Then he really is the Marquis de Varnais,” Phaedra said slowly. She was uncertain whether she felt relieved or disappointed. “And Armande himself? What did you learn of him?”
“Let me see.” Gilly rubbed his chin, staring up at the ceiling. “Well, he orders his snuff from Trebuchets in Oxford Street. He prefers French tailors to English, and has ordered no new clothes while in London.”
“Gilly!” Phaedra was startled by the sharpness of her own voice. Her cousin regarded her with open-mouthed surprise, and, turning aside, she fidgeted with the pole fire screen, the panel done up in her own indifferent needlework-a relic of the manner in which she had filled her days before embarking upon the far more interesting career of Robin Goodfellow.
“I beg of you to stop tormenting me,” she said. “This matter is far too important for jesting. Now did you at least make inquiries about him at his former lodgings?”
“Aye,” Gilly’s voice was subdued when he answered her this time. “But I couldn’t get much out of the landlady. The laundry maid, the porter and the scullery girl had nothing but praise for the marquis, no doubt owing to how generous he is with his vails. And the man has no personal servants.”
“Don’t you find that odd? That a nobleman such as Varnais would not at least have a valet?”
“According to his laundry maid, the marquis was obliged to dismiss his last manservant for stealing and had yet to find another valet to meet his exacting standards.”
Phaedra heaved a deep sigh of frustration. This scanty information was not what she had waited a week to hear.
“Admit it, Fae,” Gilly said. “You’ve got yourself in a dither over nothing. This marquis of yours is a little more aloofthan most men. You’ve allowed your imagination to run riot, conjuring up all sorts of sinister fantasies.”
Phaedra closed her mouth in a tight, stubborn line. No one, not even Gilly, took her suspicions seriously.
“I suppose you did the best you could,” she said stiffly. “Doubtless you are right. I am making a fool of myself as usual.”
“Fae, don’t be angry with me. If you want, I could try to follow the man?—”
“I wouldn’t dream of wasting any more of your valuable time.” She scooped up his cape and folded it across his arm.
He fetched a deep sigh, but made no move to leave. He lingered by the door, regarding her wistfully, his eyes bearing the soulful expression of a great galumphing puppy, begging to be let in out of the rain. It was the same look that had been getting him out of scrapes ever since he was five. Phaedra was not proof against his charm.
“It’s an ill-tempered shrew I am,” she said, hugging him. “Forgive me, Gilly. But you know well how hard it is for me to admit when I am in the wrong. It is doubly embarrassing when I think what I wrote about Varnais for the Gazetteer.”
“There’s no sense fretting about that, Fae. Jessym already has that issue at the booksellers by now. All you need do is write something else and stir up a fresh hornet’s nest. Whatever you’ve said about Varnais will be soon forgotten and- bless me! I’ve nigh forgotten my main purpose in coming out here tonight.”
Gilly fished a well worn leather purse from his waistcoat pocket. “Hold out your hands,” he commanded.
Bewildered, Phaedra complied. He undid the drawstrings of the purse and poured into her upturned palms a handful of golden guineas.
“Payment, my dear coz,” he said gleefully, “wrung out of your clutch-fisted publisher by my persuasive Irish tongue. I toldJessym if he didn’t come across with an advance, I’d be like to break his pate.”
“Oh, Gilly, you darling.” Phaedra balanced the coins between her cupped palms. “I’m a woman of substance again,” she crowed. “Independently wealthy.”
Gilly chuckled. “I don’t know as I’d go that far. But I did get the old rogue to promise double for your next piece.”
“Double. That’s wonderful. I?—”
She broke off at a sharp click, signaling the door handle to the anteroom was being turned. One of the heavy oak portals pushed open.
“Lady Grantham?” Armande’s cool voice slashed through the sudden silence like a saber’s blade.
“Well! Speak of the devil!” Gilly mumbled in Phaedra’s ear, but she barely heeded her cousin. She stared at the tall, elegant figure, whose broad shoulders blocked the door. The man moved with the stealth of a stalking leopard.
