Chapter 17 #3
“That at least reflects well on the honor of our late lamented mother.” Then he realized he had raised the flowers and was inhaling their musky perfume. Giving up pretense, he met his sister’s eyes.
“Why are you fighting this, Fort?” she asked softly.
“Perhaps I’ve decided against self-destruction as well as murder.”
“And turned instead to melodrama and insanity!” Then she bit her lip.
“Don’t let the idea torment you, my dear.
I no longer fear inherited insanity. As I was told, Father was not mad except insofar as he was mad for power, an affliction none of us seem to have caught from him.
Pushed far enough, I suppose any of us could be driven into a form of madness, but that is not the same as having it in the blood.
” Deliberately, he added, “As the Mallorens do.”
Chastity sat with a flounce in the chair by his chaise. “The Mallorens do not, as well you know. Only Rothgar bears that concern. The others have a different and sane mother.”
He inhaled the perfume of the roses again, thinking that perhaps such smells were healing. What a heartless world it was that lavished them on women and denied them to men.
His sister’s voice broke into his whimsical thoughts. “So, what is your attitude to Rothgar these days?”
He lowered the roses and met her eyes. “I promised Elf to put aside the feud. I told you the same thing. As long as he doesn’t interfere with me, he can go to hell in peace as far as I’m concerned.”
“What if he pushes for you to marry his sister?”
“I would consider that interference of the most malignant kind.”
“Fort, what if she’s with child?”
That possibility tormented him, but he would not let it show. “We discussed it before our charming jousting session. I agreed to provide financial support if needed, but made it clear I would not marry her.”
“Then you had best be careful not to spread the story, hadn’t you? Or you will force Rothgar to act.”
It took a moment for her words to make sense, so far from his mind were they.
Then he laughed. “Devil take it, is she still concerned about that? Tell her I’ve come to my senses.
She need not fear that Mr. Hogarth will turn his cruel pen to her adventures.
I told you, I no longer desire death, and I certainly don’t desire marriage to a Malloren. ”
His sister frowned at him with something close to pity. “You’re making a terrible mistake, Fort.”
He pulled out a rose, one as creamy as her lovely skin, and offered it to her. “I do thank you for caring, Chas. But I know my own path best. My apologies to Lady Elf, but I am not up to a visit from her today.”
She took the rose. “Just don’t do anything foolish.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“I don’t know. But I fear it’s a family trait.”
“Malloren or Ware?”
“Both.”
Elf had made herself sit quietly in the reception room, even when enough time had passed to tell her Fort would not see her. She was tempted to go up and force herself upon him—she knew the way, after all—but force was unlikely to work any miracles.
And anyway, it had belatedly occurred to her that meeting him in that room with that bed, that bench, that mirror might prove to be too much for her nerves.
So she was not entirely devastated when Chastity returned with one rose in her fingers.
“So he didn’t throw them out the window?”
“He’s pretty well confined to his chaise still.” Chastity shrugged and passed the rose over. “It wasn’t clear, but I suspect he wanted you to have it. He won’t see you, though. He seems firm about it.”
Elf rose and took the flower to inhale the sweet perfume. “Did he say why?”
“Not too coherently, but he mentioned not wanting to commit murder or suicide. Perhaps time . . .”
“No, not time,” said Elf, leading the way out of the house. “Time just lets some things set harder.”
They had sent the coach home, so set to walking the few streets between Abingdon Street and Marlborough Square.
“But what can you do?” Chastity asked. “I don’t think it would help to force yourself on him.”
“Sting him,” said Elf.
And when they passed a toy shop, she went in and bought a ball and cup, the ball attached by a long string. She ordered it sent to Walgrave House with the compliments of Mademoiselle Lisette.
Fort was dismissing Dingwall.
“Have I failed to give satisfaction, my lord?” asked the man. For once he was showing a reaction, and it seemed to be hurt.
“I’m sure you satisfied your employer, Dingwall. But he is dead. I have decided it is time to bury him.”
“Bury him? My lord, are you suffering some minor instability of the mind—”
“Running mad? Like my father? You would love to have charge of me in chains, wouldn’t you?
On the contrary, I am coming to my senses, and I realize I don’t need a resident penance anymore.
I will instruct Mr. Jellicoe to pay you your wages and a handsome gift for your long service.
I am trying to correct my father’s errors and omissions. ”
Dingwall was probably in a rage, but it merely showed by a quivering about his mouth. “It is my job to watch over you! I must—”
“You must take your dismissal.”
“You are not worthy to take your father’s place.”
“Then I am sure you will be happier serving a better master.” Fort picked up the toy, let the ball fall out to the length of the string, then flicked it. The ball missed the cup.
He smiled up at Dingwall.
“You are right, my lord.” The expression in the man’s eyes might even be compassion. “I have tried, but there is nothing I can do.”
He bowed and left.
Fort flipped the ball again and it settled neatly into the cup. “One ghost dealt with,” he said.