Free Gypsy Lady by Shirlee Busbee Page B

years to inherit handsomely, and then
that miserable old gypsy woman had to bring Catherine and Adam back. I'd like
to wring her scrawny neck!"
    Clive, his face impassive,
said nothing to Elizabeth's outburst, and Elizabeth wondered exactly how deeply
he had been hurt when Catherine Tremayne and her half brother had been returned
to the family. Clive had been, until then, the unacknowledged heir to the
fortune and to find himself suddenly usurped by a
black-maned, violet-eyed gypsy brat, must have been a blow. Elizabeth too, had
suffered, for she had been her uncle's darling, something she had worked very
hard to be, until Catherine's return. It still angered her to think of the
money that might have been hers if Catherine, or Adam for that matter, had
remained with the gypsies.
    Moodily she said,
"Even Adam came off better than we did. At least Robert deeded him
outright those lands near Natchez."
    Looking at her, Clive said
dryly, " A small fortune too, don't forget."
    "That's what really
bothers you, isn't it, Clive? That Robert saw to Adam's future and ignored
yours. He could have left the Natchez land to you."
    "My dear, what my late
godfather did with his money is none of my concern. I admit I was disappointed
when Catherine suddenly reappeared after all those years. But from then until
his death last year, I had plenty of time to grow used to the idea. And as I
intend to marry her, there has only been a slight delay in my plans."
    "And
what about me?" Elizabeth asked angrily.
    "I shall of course see
that you are well taken care of —provided that you do as I tell you."
    "Like whoring for you
to find out information?" she inquired icily.
    "Exactly,
my dear. It's a role that you fill admirably."
    After a cry of outrage from
Elizabeth, there was no more conversation between them. In a foul mood when
Clive parted from her at the Grosvenor Square residence of the earl of Mount,
Elizabeth spent the evening planning and discarding several ugly methods for
Clive's disposal. And while Elizabeth was doing that, Clive was spending the
time playing cards with Jason, Freddy Barrymore and Tom Harris in Barrymore's
rooms.
    In spite of Freddy's fears,
the evening passed tolerably well, although it would have been better if Clive
had not been there. It was well after three a.m. when the little group
broke up. Harris had become quite intoxicated and was remaining the night with
Freddy. Clive, with a great deal of tact, departed first. After he had left,
Freddy and Jason talked for a few minutes. Jason wished Freddy a pleasant trip
on the morrow, offered hope that Harris's head wouldn't ache too badly, and
left saying that he would see them at Brownleigh's in March.
    It was a fine evening, and
Jason had, as planned, walked. The oil street lamps threw golden patches of
light here and there down the empty, narrow streets as he strolled towards St.
James's Street. He was perhaps halfway home when a slight flicker of movement
near a dark alley angling off from the street caught his eye. He was but a few
yards away from it, and his step slowed. Casually he glanced up and down the
deserted street. He was unarmed and cursing under his breath; he wished now
that he had continued to wear a knife hidden under his clothes. He was only
carrying a cane, which would do him little good, if, as he suspected, an
attacker lurked there in the shadows. He considered turning back, but the two
figures slinking swiftly out from the alley anticipated his thought—one moving
to cut off his retreat. Jason's hand went up to the catch of his cloak and unhooking
it carefully, he smiled grimly to himself, thinking a cloak and a cane were not
very adequate weapons against the cudgels the other two probably carried.
    They circled him like
wolves, his size giving them pause. And because it was his way, Jason struck
first. Whipping off his cloak, he threw it accurately over the man in front of
him. Then closing swiftly, he brought his hand down in a chopping motion