Game of Kings - Dorothy Dunnett [100]
It was not Gideon. “Lord: the tame assassin!” said Kate, and popped Philippa outside the door.
“There are some rough men of mine in every passage out there,” said a cool voice from the harpsichord. “You will both be safer with me. Shut the door.”
Kate brought Philippa in and closed it.
“And sit down.”
Firmly tightening the belt of her oldest wrap, Kate took her daughter and sat. In her orderly brain, the situation was clear. This was the man of whom Lord Grey had warned Gideon. It was her task to convince him that Gideon was not the man he was after, and without frightening Philippa. She longed to know if her husband was in the house.
Mrs. Somerville ran her tongue round her lips and spoke weakly.
“I hope you won’t find us tiresome, sitting here looking at you.”
He could certainly play. He continued to do so, paying not the slightest attention.
“I don’t suppose,” said Kate sociably, “you get much time for practice. Are you here for a long stay?”
“I am afraid,” said the cool voice, “you must have patience until your husband comes back. He’s been following me carefully: he won’t be long.”
“Following you … Did you steal the animals?” exclaimed Kate, surprised into an unpremeditated question.
“And brought them back.”
“Oh!” She hid her face. “These mighty marksmen of Lord Grey’s … Of course. And they opened the gates for you, thinking it was Gideon. Oh, shame on you. Is there no God who looks after little brains?”
Silence. So she was on her own, Kate thought, and instilled all the friendly helpfulness she could into her next question. “Excuse me, but are you the bad company young Mr. Scott has got into?”
In one gentle movement, the yellow-haired man lifted both hands from the keyboard, rested one on the instrument, and swivelled to face mother and daughter. Kate, her arm around Philippa, met wide eyes like a kitten’s; then he said without stress, “A humourist, I see. Why did you mention Scott’s name?”
“If you’re the person who’s in company with Buccleuch’s son, we have a letter for you,” said Kate. “But you’ll have to get it yourself, if you’ve got feet under there. I’m all against heroism in women.”
He found it without trouble as she directed, and then crossing to the door with the same, noiseless, lingering tread, held it open. “Your company enthralls me,” he said. “But I believe I can dispense with it. Get out, please.”
It meant he wanted to read the letter by himself, and probably see Gideon alone, which wasn’t at all what Kate intended. She got up slowly, taking Philippa’s hand. “We are adjudged suitable company for the rough men outside—” and broke off. “Oh, Gideon!”
Gideon Somerville, marched along his own passage by strangers and deposited outside the door of his own music room, gazed in a perplexed way at his wife and child, and then at the silent man who held the door open. His fresh skin lost colour, and a very real consternation came into his eyes. Then Kate propelled Philippa firmly back into the room, reseated herself, and addressed her husband as he walked slowly past the other and into the room.
“That’s right,” said Kate. “Behold the fruits of Willie Grey’s little scheme. He came in with the cattle, that also be fair beasts and well smelling. He’s got the letter.”
Back to the shut door, the intruder watched them, the unopened letter tapping against his leg. With characteristic hesitation, Gideon said, “You have put—put us all to a great deal of trouble for nothing, my friend. I was told to expect you, and to help you when you came. If you’ll read the letter, it will tell you I am not the man you want.”
The other man continued to study him. Then he walked slowly to the far end of the room and, turning by the desk where he could keep them all under view, he broke Sir George Douglas’s seal and read. When he had finished he smiled, the long lashes fluttering. “That proves nothing,” he said.
Kate