aggrieved, but a devil danced in his blue eyes.
She answered the devil. “Oh, I nearly forgot. No doubt you fear your skills will grow rusty from disuse.”
“That is not what concerns me,” he said. He paused a moment. “I perceive a refreshingly independent spirit abruptly cowed by the perverted utterances of a foul-minded rhinoceros. I do all in my humble powers to distract you, and you do not attend. Instead, your beautiful eyes dart about; as though you were a hunted creature. It is provoking.”
She caught her breath. “My what?”
“Of course there’s no point reminding you your eyes are beautiful, because you’re irrational. Your abigail has probably told you a hundred times, not to mention your beaux, but all those sensible voices are drowned out by the noise of that squealing sow.”
No. He didn’t realty think she was... no, certainly not. He spoke so out of kindness, because he pitied her or felt obliged to smooth her ruffled feathers. Or it was mere habit. I daresay he wreaks havoc with the maids.
“Do you wreak havoc with the ladies’ maids?” she asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“That’s why Mrs. Bullerham claimed it was a rendezvous, you know. Because you’re so handsome,” she said brazenly. She was rewarded. The mask of assurance faltered. She had disconcerted him. “And also, probably, because there’s a devil in your eyes, Mr. Brentick.”
His confusion lasted but an instant, and he flashed a wolfish grin. How white his teeth were, gleaming in his lean, tanned face.
“Your recent ordeal has overheated your imagination,’’ he said. “She’s made you see evil everywhere.”
“No, not evil,” she answered thoughtfully. “Krishna, rather. Are you familiar with the Hindu deities?”
“I know some of the thousand names, though I can rarely keep them straight,” he said, obviously puzzled by the abrupt turn in the conversation.
“How long were you in India?” she asked.
Philip remained nearly another hour at her side. Never had they conversed for so long a time. More important, this was the first time the talk ventured near the personal, and what he learned was puzzling and troubling. He’d experienced niggling doubts before, but in recent weeks, they’d swelled to daunting proportions. He listened to her today, and watched her expressive face, and wondered whether it was possible she knew nothing, had made no connexion at all between him and the man who’d robbed her.
He considered the evidence again later, when she’d gone. She hadn’t let Jessup die, for one. Furthermore, after four months, Philip was still alive. To eliminate him without awakening suspicion would be difficult, he admitted. Still, the task was not beyond the wily Indian’s powers.
But nothing. Not even a glimmer of recognition. That left a few alternative interpretations. For instance, Padji may have latched onto Miss Cavencourt for his own purposes. The Indian may have played on her kind nature and convinced her to take him to England.
He could have several reasons for doing so. Fear of the rani’s rage when she learned of the theft was one excellent reason, although it needn’t drive him all the way to England. Another, more in character, was a vow of revenge upon the rani’s true enemy, Hedgrave.
Philip knew the Laughing Princess was not worth fifty thousand pounds, let alone the additional thousands previously expended to retrieve it. He was aware the Falcon represented no more than a very expensive tool in an ugly game: two vicious children squabbling over a toy each wanted only to spite the other. He could not be greatly shocked to discover the game had become deadly.
In that case, Miss Cavencourt may not be, as he’d originally believed, a cunning disciple of the ruthless Rani Simhi. She might be merely another tool, though an innocent one. Or was that simply what he wanted to believe now, because he’d been trapped too long on this damnable ship? Had the long months of
She answered the devil. “Oh, I nearly forgot. No doubt you fear your skills will grow rusty from disuse.”
“That is not what concerns me,” he said. He paused a moment. “I perceive a refreshingly independent spirit abruptly cowed by the perverted utterances of a foul-minded rhinoceros. I do all in my humble powers to distract you, and you do not attend. Instead, your beautiful eyes dart about; as though you were a hunted creature. It is provoking.”
She caught her breath. “My what?”
“Of course there’s no point reminding you your eyes are beautiful, because you’re irrational. Your abigail has probably told you a hundred times, not to mention your beaux, but all those sensible voices are drowned out by the noise of that squealing sow.”
No. He didn’t realty think she was... no, certainly not. He spoke so out of kindness, because he pitied her or felt obliged to smooth her ruffled feathers. Or it was mere habit. I daresay he wreaks havoc with the maids.
“Do you wreak havoc with the ladies’ maids?” she asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“That’s why Mrs. Bullerham claimed it was a rendezvous, you know. Because you’re so handsome,” she said brazenly. She was rewarded. The mask of assurance faltered. She had disconcerted him. “And also, probably, because there’s a devil in your eyes, Mr. Brentick.”
His confusion lasted but an instant, and he flashed a wolfish grin. How white his teeth were, gleaming in his lean, tanned face.
“Your recent ordeal has overheated your imagination,’’ he said. “She’s made you see evil everywhere.”
“No, not evil,” she answered thoughtfully. “Krishna, rather. Are you familiar with the Hindu deities?”
“I know some of the thousand names, though I can rarely keep them straight,” he said, obviously puzzled by the abrupt turn in the conversation.
“How long were you in India?” she asked.
Philip remained nearly another hour at her side. Never had they conversed for so long a time. More important, this was the first time the talk ventured near the personal, and what he learned was puzzling and troubling. He’d experienced niggling doubts before, but in recent weeks, they’d swelled to daunting proportions. He listened to her today, and watched her expressive face, and wondered whether it was possible she knew nothing, had made no connexion at all between him and the man who’d robbed her.
He considered the evidence again later, when she’d gone. She hadn’t let Jessup die, for one. Furthermore, after four months, Philip was still alive. To eliminate him without awakening suspicion would be difficult, he admitted. Still, the task was not beyond the wily Indian’s powers.
But nothing. Not even a glimmer of recognition. That left a few alternative interpretations. For instance, Padji may have latched onto Miss Cavencourt for his own purposes. The Indian may have played on her kind nature and convinced her to take him to England.
He could have several reasons for doing so. Fear of the rani’s rage when she learned of the theft was one excellent reason, although it needn’t drive him all the way to England. Another, more in character, was a vow of revenge upon the rani’s true enemy, Hedgrave.
Philip knew the Laughing Princess was not worth fifty thousand pounds, let alone the additional thousands previously expended to retrieve it. He was aware the Falcon represented no more than a very expensive tool in an ugly game: two vicious children squabbling over a toy each wanted only to spite the other. He could not be greatly shocked to discover the game had become deadly.
In that case, Miss Cavencourt may not be, as he’d originally believed, a cunning disciple of the ruthless Rani Simhi. She might be merely another tool, though an innocent one. Or was that simply what he wanted to believe now, because he’d been trapped too long on this damnable ship? Had the long months of
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