“Like her brother,” bowed Robin. “For myself I have a weakness for a fairy-like creature with brown eyes, but I confess Sir Anthony is fortunate. My Prue’s a dear creature.”
“And — and you deceived me grossly!” Letty said, but she did not sound angry. “Goodness, will your sister ever forgive me? ’Twas my fault she was taken by the Law, for I told those odious men you had brown hair and were of medium height! But I never, never thought they would seize on Mr — I mean, on your sister. Robin, are you sure you are quite safe now?”
“Quite sure, child. Robin Lacey is no more. Here is only Robert Tremaine.”
“And no one would ever guess you were Kate,” Letty said. “Even I did not guess until you made me look at you, and then I could not credit it. Oh Robin, Robin, I knew you would come again, but I have been so miserable! There has been the horridest scandal and aunt is dreadfully cross.”
“But now,” Robin said, holding her close, “it is for me to see that you are happy ever after. And I will see to it.”
“I am happy,” Letty said into his shoulder. A thought came to her; she lifted her head, and said in a voice of unholy glee: — “And aunt shall see that I am not in the least ruined for life! She will look very silly when she knows I am to be a Viscountess one day!”
Chapter 32
Journey’s End
Robin had instructions to bring his sister to Barham Court, where my lord would await their coming. My lord wrote a beautiful letter to my Lady Enderby, thanking her for her kindness to his daughter, and begging her to honour his house with her company. He purposed to invite Sir Humphrey and Letty Grayson down too; my Lady Lowestoft, and of course Sir Anthony Fanshawe. He had begun to meditate nuptials: Robin felt sure that they were to be magnificent.
As for this unlooked — for ending, it took Robin’s breath away. It seemed there was no longer room for doubt: the old gentleman was Barham indeed, and the days of their adventuring were over. Faith, and it was like him to allow his children to doubt him to the end! It gave him the chance to make a gesture. It had been so, Robin reflected, all through this masquerade. Simplicity was abhorrent to his lordship; he revelled in a network of intrigue; he loved to accomplish the impossible. A less tortuous man might have established his identity in a way quieter and more direct; a less fantastic man might not perhaps have perceived the need for his son and daughter to be in town all this while. They could have escaped to France, and waited there. Robin understood the workings of that stupendous mind. The old gentleman wanted them to see his triumph; it would have lost half its savour if they had not been there to be mystified, aghast, and at the last thunderstruck. He liked also to make a dupe of the whole of Polite Society. He had thrown his son and daughter right into the lion’s den, masquerading in a preposterous guise: Robin could imagine his delight. In fact, the old gentleman had once more shown himself to be too clever for the rest of the world, and for him that was the breath of life.