“Let’s get one thing clear: I hate musicals,” said Gideon. “Do you think you can hold out for a few minutes longer? Lord Alastair has finally arrived, and once we’ve been introduced to him, we can go.”
“So soon?” I said. “What a shame!”
Gideon looked at me, shaking his head. “You’ve obviously lost all sense of time. I’d hold your head under cold water if I could.”
Count Saint-Germain came up to us. “That was a … a very remarkable performance,” he said, looking at Gideon with raised eyebrows.
“I’m sorry,” said Gideon, sighing. He glanced at the two newcomers. “Lord Alastair looks a little fatter than he used to.”
The count laughed. “Don’t cherish any false hopes! My enemy is still in brilliant form. Rakoczy saw him fence at Galliano’s this afternoon—none of the young dandies could compete with him. Follow me. I can’t wait to see his face.”
“He’s being so nice today,” I whispered to Gideon as we followed in the count’s wake. “You know, he terrified me last time, but today I feel almost as if he was my grandfather or something. I almost like him. And it was so kind of him to give you the Stradivarius. I’m sure it would be worth a fortune if you auctioned it on eBay. Oops, the floors are still so wobbly here.”
Gideon put a hand on my waist. “I swear I’m going to murder you when we’re through with this,” he muttered.
“Am I babbling?”
“Not quite yet,” he said. “But I expect that will be next.”
“Didn’t I tell you he might turn up at any moment?” Lord Brompton placed one hand on the shoulder of the man in the glittery clothes and the other on the count’s. “I’ve been told that you know each other already. Lord Alastair, you never told me that you were personally acquainted with the famous Count Saint-Germain.”
“It’s not something one cares to boast of,” said Lord Alastair arrogantly, and the black-clad man with the olive complexion standing a little way behind him added, in a grating voice, “Very true!” His black eyes were almost burning holes in the count’s face, leaving no one in any doubt of his profound hatred for him. For a moment, I wondered if he had a sword hidden under that black cloak and might draw it at any time. Why he wore a thick, gloomy cloak like that at all was a mystery to me. First, it was hot enough in here, and second, it seemed odd and discourteous in these festive surroundings.
Lord Brompton looked around him, beaming cheerfully, as if he hadn’t caught on to the hostile atmosphere at all.
The count stepped forward. “Lord Alastair, how delightful! Although our acquaintanceship lies some years in the past, I have never forgotten you.”
I was standing behind Count Saint-Germain, so I couldn’t see his face, but he sounded as if he was smiling. His voice was friendly and cheerful. “I, too, still remember our conversation about slavery and morality, and how surprising I thought it that you were so well able to keep the two apart—just like your father,” he said.
“The count never forgets anything,” said Lord Brompton effusively. “His brain is phenomenal! During these last few days in his company I’ve learnt more than in all my life before. Did you know, for instance, that the count is able to make artificial jewels?”
“Yes, I was aware of that.” Lord Alastair’s expression became, if possible, even colder, and his companion was breathing heavily like someone about to run amok.
“Science is not necessarily among Lord Alastair’s hobbies, if I remember correctly,” said the count. “Oh, how remiss of me!” He stepped to one side, allowing Lord Alastair a full view of Gideon and me. “I wished to introduce these two delightful young people to you. To be honest, that was my sole reason for being here today. A man of my age avoids society and goes to bed early.”
At the sight of Gideon, Lord Alastair’s eyes widened incredulously.
Lord Brompton squeezed his massive bulk between Gideon and me. “Lord Alastair, may I introduce Viscount Batten’s son? And the Viscount’s ward, the enchanting Miss Gray?”
My curtsey fell a little short of the deference prescribed by etiquette. There were two reasons for that: (a) I was afraid of losing my balance, and (b) Lord Alastair seemed so arrogant that I quite forgot I was playing the part of Viscount Batten’s penniless ward. I mean, I was the granddaughter of Lord Lucas Montrose, wasn’t I? I was descended from a long line of famous ancestors, and what’s more, your origins didn’t make any difference in my own time, when everyone was equal, right?
At any other time, Lord Alastair’s glance would have frozen the blood in my veins, but the punch was good antifreeze, so I returned it as haughtily as I could. He didn’t give me his attention for long anyway. Instead, he returned his gaze to Gideon, while Lord Brompton went on chattering happily.
No one took the trouble to introduce Lord Alastair’s black-clad companion, and no one seemed to notice when he stared at me over Lord Alastair’s shoulder and growled, “You! Demon with the sapphire eyes! You will soon be on your way to hell!”
I beg your pardon? That was really going too far! In search of help, I looked at Gideon, whose rather tense smile was only for show. But he didn’t say anything until Lord Brompton said he was going to fetch his wife—and a couple of glasses of punch.
“Please don’t trouble, Lord Brompton,” said Gideon. “We have to leave soon anyway. My sister is still a little weak after her long illness and not used to staying up late.” He put his arm around my waist again and took my forearm with his other hand. “As you see, she is slightly unsteady on her legs.”
How right he was! The floor was swaying very unpleasantly beneath my feet. Gratefully, I leaned on Gideon.
“Oh, I’ll be back in a moment!! cried Lord Brompton. “I’m sure my wife will be able to persuade you to stay.”
Count Saint-Germain watched him go with a smile. “Such a good-hearted soul! Fond as he is of harmony, he could never bear it if we were to quarrel.”
Lord Alastair was still inspecting Gideon with undisguised hostility. “If my memory serves me rightly, when we met before, this young man was traveling under the name of Marquis Weldon. And now he is the son of a viscount. I expect, Saint-Germain, that like you, your young friend is inclined to indulge in empty boasting. How very regrettable!”
“It’s what one calls a diplomatic pseudonym,” said the count, still smiling. “Nothing that you would understand. Be that as it may, I heard that you greatly enjoyed that little fencing match when you met eleven years ago.”
“I enjoy any fencing match,” said Lord Alastair. He acted as if he didn’t hear his companion, who was whispering, “Smite the enemies of God with the swords of the angels and archangels!” Lord Alastair went on, unmoved, “And I have learnt a few tricks since then. Whereas your young friend seems to have aged by only a few days in those eleven years—and as I was recently able to convince myself, he has had no time to improve his technique.”
“Convince yourself?” said Gideon, with a derisive smile. “For that you’d have had to be there yourself. But you sent your men, and my technique was perfectly adequate to dealing with them. Yet more proof that if you want something done, it is better to do it yourself.”
“Can you mean…?” Lord Alastair’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, you are speaking of the incident in Hyde Park last Monday. True—I ought to have given it my own attention. In any case, it was just an idea on the spur of the moment. But without the help of black magic … and a girl, you would hardly have survived.”
“I’m glad to hear you speak so frankly,” said the count. “For since your men’s attempt on the lives of my young friends here, I have been rather … well, annoyed. I thought it was I on whom your aggression was turned. I am sure you understand that I will not tolerate such a thing.”
“You’ll do as you think you ought to do, and I’ll do as I must do,” said Lord Alastair, and his companion growled, “Death! Death to the demons!” in such a weird way that I couldn’t rule out the idea that he might have a laser sword hidden under that cloak. He was clearly a nutcase. I didn’t think I ought to ignore his peculiar behavior any longer.
“We haven’t been introduced, I know, and I admit to having my own problems with correct manners at this period,” I said, looking him straight in the face. “But if you ask me, all this talk of demons and death is definitely out of order.”
“Speak not to me, demon!” said Darth Vader harshly. “I am invisible to your sapphire eyes! And your ears cannot hear me.”
“Chance would be a fine thing,” I said, and suddenly I wanted to go home. Or at least back to that sofa, however uncomfortable it was. The whole room was swaying around me like a ship at sea.
Gideon, the count, and Lord Alastair seemed to have lost the thread of their own conversation for now. They forgot to go on flinging cryptic accusations at each other, and stared at me with baffled expressions on their faces.
“The swords of my descendants will pierce your flesh, the Florentine Alliance will avenge what was done to my family, and will wipe that which is displeasing to God off the face of the earth,” said Darth Vader, addressing no one in particular.
“Who are you talking to?” whispered Gideon.
“Him over there,” I said, clutching Gideon a little more tightly and pointing to Darth Vader. “Someone ought to tell him that his cloak is sh … isn’t exactly the latest fashion. And that I am not a demon, if he doesn’t mind, and I don’t want to be pierced by the swords of his descendants and wiped off the face of the earth. Ow!”
Gideon’s hand had closed hard on my forearm.
“What does this farce mean, Count?” inquired Lord Alastair, adjusting a showy brooch in his cravat.
The count took no notice of him. Under their heavy lids, his eyes were resting on me. “This is interesting,” he said softly. “She can obviously see straight into your black soul, my dear Alastair.”
“I’m afraid she’s drunk so much wine that she’s imagining things,” said Gideon, hissing into my ear, “Shut up, for goodness’ sake!”
My stomach contracted painfully with shock, because all at once I realized that the others couldn’t see or hear Darth Vader, and the reason why they couldn’t was that he was a ghost! If I hadn’t been so drunk, this obvious idea would have occurred to me sooner. How stupid could you get? Neither his clothes nor his hairstyle was right for the eighteenth century, and by the time he launched into his emotional ramblings, if not earlier, I ought to have realized who I had before me, or rather what.
Lord Alastair threw back his head and said, “We both know, Count, whose soul belongs to the Devil, and with God’s help, I will ensure that these … these creatures are never born at all!”
“Pierced by the swords of the Holy Florentine Alliance,” Darth Vader unctuously concluded.
