The Ghosts of Greenwood Read Free Page B

ambassadorial position without making him look the fool.”
    “A problem,” Hubert murmured, “which Uncle Max is extremely qualified to solve, having removed himself from more potentially embarrassing situations than one has power to count. And in the interim he may ogle the ladies, and hunt with Louis the Gouty, and engage in the universal gambling that shocks the English visitors even more than the pornographic prints frequently featured on hotel walls.”
    “I don’t think,” Lord Dorset objected, “that our uncle can be said to ‘ogle’. At last report he had lured both La Grassini and Mademoiselle Georges away from Wellington. The Duke is likely to leave Paris simply because Uncle Max is there.”
    “Better there than here,” said Hubert. “It occurs to me — belatedly, I grant you, but I have had a great deal on my mind — that a certain other member of the family is not here. Surely, cousin, you have not already tired of your wife?”
    “Lavender,” explained Lady Bligh, “has gone on an errand. So far is Dickon from growing bored that he has got her with child.”
    “Lud!” sighed Hubert. “Allow me to congratulate you, cousin, on providing us with another addition to this already grossly complicated family. Apropos of which—”
    “Apropos of which,” demanded Dickon, “where is Jael?”
    This simple inquiry wiped all traces of malice from Hubert’s features. It also caused Sir John’s spirits to sink. The Chief Magistrate had not been best-pleased to see Hubert Humboldt, whose satiric presence had once graced a Bow Street jail cell, following an incident of highway robbery; but mention of Hubert’s mistress, a hot-tempered icy-eyed female who wielded no small influence in London’s vicious underworld, caused him to fervently wish himself elsewhere.
    “Did you hope she wasn’t with me?” inquired Hubert. “Sorry to disappoint you, coz. I pointed out that an invitation to Greenwood Castle was a singular mark of favor achieved by few members of the family, of which I am not one, but she refused to be convinced. And why she decided at the last minute that we must come here, when she dislikes the country above all things, I cannot begin to guess.”
    “Never say so, Humbug,” said the Earl. “Or I will think you have encountered domestic difficulties yourself.”
    “I wouldn’t gloat, if I were you!” retorted Hubert, with a glance of keen dislike. “You’ll soon enough have difficulties of your own.”
    “You mean to sow discord, I gather.” Lord Dorset scowled like a thundercloud. “Well, you shan’t. I won’t permit it. Livvy—”
    “—is in a delicate condition,” Dulcie interrupted. “We are aware, Dickon. Hubert, you may proceed.”
    That gentleman continued glowering at his cousin. “You needn’t bother saying I dwell under the hen’s foot, because in general Jael and I rub on agreeably enough.”
    “I wasn’t going to say any such thing,” replied Dickon, untruthfully. “So you don’t know why Jael insisted on joining us here?”
    Hubert plucked a thread from his waistcoat. “I didn’t deem it politic to ask.”
    One could hardly blame him. Sir John had a vivid memory of the woman, seated on the edge of his desk and cleaning her nails with a sharp-edged knife.
    “You could have refused to escort her,” Dulcie pointed out.
    “I realize you hold me in no great regard,” Hubert said with indignation, “but Idon’t know why you’d think that I would sit idly twiddling my thumbs at home while Jael goes jaunting about the countryside.”
    Bluebeard stretched out one bright blue wing. “Twiddle-diddles,” he observed.
    “Twiddlepoop,” came a voice from the doorway. “I told you to stay in town.”
    “And I’ll repeat what I told you then,” responded Hubert. “Whither you go, so do I.”
    Jael’s arrival put a brief end to conversation. Bluebeard ruffled his feathers and clacked his beak. Casanova twitched his tail.
    She walked across the