“She cannot! She—”
“She don’t know it, of course, but it’s true. Be advised by me, Philip, and insist on having your way with her. Don’t be finicky!”
“It’s very well, but she doesn’t love me!”
“Oh, drat the man!” said her ladyship. “You fatigue me! Go your own road, but don’t blame me when everything goes awry. If you have made Clo miserable she’ll do something mad. And now I’ve warned you. Oh, here is James, looking like a sulky bear! James, my good boy, I’ve left my handkerchief in another room. Will you fetch it for me, please? Over there, behind the curtain. Yes, shocking, isn’t it? But ’twas only old Fotheringham, so you can tell your uncle, Philip.”
He rose and laughed down at her.
“And will he master you, my lady?”
“Not he,” said Lady Malmerstoke placidly. “I’m past the age of wanting that nonsense. Not that I ever wanted it, but I was always unusual. Be off with you!”
Philip took James by the arm.
“We are summarily dismissed! Come, Jamie, we’ll find her handkerchief, and she’ll smile again.”
In the withdrawing-room Cleone was dicing with Sir Deryk. A very unmaidenly proceeding. She had just lost the rose at her breast to Brenderby, and he was trying to undo the pin that held it in place. Failing in that, he grasped the stem firmly, and broke off the bloom. But with the rose he had clutched a thin blue ribbon from which hung a locket. It snapped, and the trinket rolled on to the floor.
Cleone was already overwrought. She sprang up.
“Oh, my locket!” And searched wildly on the floor.
Surprised at her earnestness, Brenderby went down on his knees, and presently retrieved the locket just as Cleone had seen it. He rose, and was about to present it to her when she clasped agitated hands and demanded that it should be given her at once! This aroused Sir Deryk’s curiosity. He withheld it.
“Why so anxious, Cleone? What secret does it hide?”
“Naught! Oh, give it me, give it me!”
Sir Deryk held fast to the trophy.
“Not so fast, Cleone! I’ll swear there’s some mystery here! I’ve a mind to peep inside!”
“I forbid you!” said Cleone. “Sir Deryk—” She controlled herself. “Please give it me!”
“And so I will, fairest, but first I must see what is inside!”
“Oh, no, no! There’s naught! I could not bear you to look! Besides, it’s—it’s empty. I—oh, give it me!” She stamped angrily.
Brenderby’s eyes were alight with impish laughter.
“I’ll make a bargain, sweetest! You shall play me for it.” He picked up the dice-box. “If you beat my throw, I will give you the locket unopened. If you lose you shall pay a price for it.”
“I don’t understand! What do you mean?”
“You shall kiss me for it. One hard-earned kiss. Come, you must admit my terms are generous!”
“I won’t! How dare you, sir! And it is my locket! You have no right to it!”
“What I find I keep! Come! The odds are equal, and in neither case do I open the locket.”
“I—I thought you a gentleman!”
“So I am, Clo. Were I not—I’d take the price and then the locket. There’s no one to see, and no one need know. Cleone—you lovely creature!”
Cleone wrung her hands.
“I should die of shame! Oh, Sir Deryk, please be kind!”
“Why should I be kind when you are not? You’ll none of my terms? Very well!” He made as if to open the locket.
“No, no, no!” almost shrieked Cleone. “I’ll do anything, anything! Only don’t open it!”
“You’ll play me?”
Cleone drew a deep breath.
“Yes. I will. And I’ll never, never, never speak to you again!”
He laughed.
“Oh, I trust you’ll change your mind! Now!” He cast the dice. “Aha! Can you beat that?”
Cleone took the box in a firm clasp, and shook it long and violently. Her cheeks were burning, her eyes tight shut. She threw the dice. Brenderby bent over the table.
“Alack!”
Her eyes flew open.
“I’ve won? Oh, I have won!”
“No. I was grieving for you, fairest, not for myself. You have lost.”
Tears glistened on the end of her long lashes.
“Sir Deryk—p-please be gen-generous now! I don’t want to—kiss you!”
“What! You cry off? Shame, Cleone!” he teased.
“You are monstrous unk-kind! It’s my locket, and I d-don’t want to kiss you! I don’t, I don’t! I hate you!”
“That adds spice, my dear. Must I take the price?”
She choked down a sob.
“Very well. Kiss me.” She stood where she was, face upturned, with the resignation of a martyr.
He laid his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her.
“By God, Cleone, you’re damnably beautiful!” he said thickly. “You’ve played with fire tonight—but I won’t burn you too much!” He bent his head till his lips met hers.
At that inauspicious moment James and Philip walked into the room.
“No, it was here she said, Philip. I re—”
With a cry of horror Cleone sprang away from Sir Deryk, her cheeks flaming. Her wide eyes went from James’ face of frozen astonishment to Philip’s pale, furious countenance.
Philip took a half-step forward, his hand wrenching at his sword-hilt. Then he checked and slammed the sword back into the scabbard. Cleone had not struggled in Brenderby’s embrace. What could he do? He had always thought her in love with the fellow. And on the top of his own proposal. … He swept a magnificent bow.
“Mille pardons, mademoiselle! It seems that I intrude.”
Cleone winced at the biting sarcasm in his voice. She tried to speak, and failed. What could she say?
James came out of his stupor. He strode forward.
“What in thunder—”
“I don’t kn-know!” quavered Cleone. “Oh—oh, heaven!”
Quickly Brenderby stepped to her side. He took her hand in his, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“Gentlemen, you have the honour of addressing my affianced wife,” he said haughtily.
Philip’s hand was on the curtain. It clenched slowly. He stood very still,
