Lord Mulciber was standing on the upper step, but his head was still only about level with Boggin's breast pocket. Victor stepped past the two with a brisk nod, but Mulciber put his thick steel walking stick in my way and said, "Reginald, you must introduce us."
Victor turned and looked back down. His face was expressionless; he had one foot higher than the other; his hands were relaxed and by his sides. But I had never seen him look more dangerous.
Boggin said uncomfortably, "Carry on, Triumph. Tell the librarian that Miss Windrose is excused with my permission for a moment or two, there's a good lad."
Victor turned like a soldier and continued on in.
"What do we have here, an Arab girl from a harem?" said Mulciber. "Show us your face, girl."
That made me blush. Maybe I would have blushed more if I had actually been Amelia with no notion of who this was. But maybe not.
Boggin cleared his throat. "Miss Windrose, this is His Lordship, Weyland Talbot. It is his family which owns the estate on which we stand; it is his generosity which houses and sustains us. Please treat him with all due courtesy."
"How do you do, Your Lordship," I said, putting my left foot back and sketching the briefest possible curtsy.
Here was what was so strange. I could not remember what I was like. Would I have been more shy?
Less? Maybe a little rude? Or fascinated or repelled? I have never actually studied myself before. I did not know what to act like.
Boggin said, "His Lordship expressed the desire to see your face, Miss Windrose. I hope you will not continue this conversation all muffled and, ah, obscured."
Mulciber said, "Reggie. You like the sound of your voice. Only you. Got me? Let me talk to the girl. And you! Windrose, is it? What about that face of yours, eh?"
I leaned forward and presented my cheek to him. Boggin raised both eyebrows. Mulciber squinted (and scowled) a moment, not understanding my gesture. Then he snorted loudly and squinted (and grinned), raised his huge thick-fingered hand, and plucked the veil away from my face.
The folds of the scarf fell lightly down across the bosom of my jacket.
"Very nice," said Mulciber.
"I thank Your Lordship," I said coolly, straightening a bit.
"Don't get vain. I've seen better. I have better at home," he said, scowling (or maybe he was still grinning).
"I am sure Your Lordship's daughters are very beautiful, sir," I said. (1 thought myself terribly clever for this comment, clever enough to remember that I was not supposed to remember who his wife was.) He scratched the stubble of his skull with a finger as thick as a sausage. "No. I got no little ones. None that are any damn good, anyhow." He looked rather sad for a moment, and there was real pain in his eyes. "No, I guess you could say I married young. A showgirl, actually. Gold digger, just like everyone warned me against. She run off with a soldier boy. Serves me right, I guess."
I was actually past embarrassment and well on my way to pity at this point. 1 said, "Your Lordship—? I mean, please don't tell me your… not that I don't want to hear, but…"
"But I shouldn't be telling a stranger, right? You see, your face fooled me, Miss Windrose. Ever get the feeling you met someone before?"
"Well, Your Lordship, I get that feeling when I see Vanity. It is quite an eerie sensation. She is my roommate, you see, so I actually have seen her before. Every day, actually. But the sensation is still quite eerie."
"Heh. Heyah. Funny one, aren't we. Listen, Windrose! I was asking Boggin here who his best and brightest student is. Your name came up. I want you to send me your resume when you graduate. I have a large industrial concern on the Continent, and I can always use new folk."
1 turned to Boggin. "Headmaster, when exactly is the date of graduation?"
He said coldly, "When you turn twenty-one, the institution can release you."
"And when is that date, sir?" I said brightly, "I'd like to mark it on my calendar. I am sure His Lordship would, too, wouldn't you, Your Lordship?"
Boggin looked at Mulciber. Mulciber just smiled, obviously relishing Boggin's discomfort.
Boggin turned back to me abruptly, saying, "Since you are presently sixteen, that would make it five years hence. We do not know the date of your birth with any precision. January first may be assumed to be the date."
I said to Mulciber, "I understand, Your Lordship, that sixteen-year-olds are sometimes legally allowed to work, at summer jobs if nothing else. Your Lordship would need to acquire Headmaster Boggin's permission, as he is my legal guardian, of course, but considering the great debt he no doubt feels in his heart toward Your Lordship for this wonderful estate——-Well, he would not do anything to obstruct Your Lordship's plans, may I assume that?"
Mulciber grimaced. "Stop with that 'Lordship' stuff. I bought my title, and I did it only to make it easier to do business in England. You're a sweet girl, but you've studied how to annoy people, haven't you? Well, don't annoy me."
I said, "Sir… ? What may I call you?"
He opened his mouth to say "Stumpy"… I could almost see he was thinking it___But then he changed his mind and said, "Mr. Talbot will do for now."
He reached into a breast pocket of his finely tailored suit and pulled out a business card, which he proffered to me. I took it with thanks, looking confused. "I do not have phone privileges," I said.
Mulciber looked at Boggin. "Oh, Reggie here will fall over himself to make things smooth for you, Windrose. He just tried to bollix up what I was working on, and he did a damn fine job of it, too. He doesn't want to bollix up any more of my things, or it will go bad for him. I think he understands that.
Don't you, Reggie!" And he poked the Headmaster in the chest with his metal cane.
"Of course, Your Lordship…" said Boggin, looking angry and ashamed. It was his pride, you see.
English gentlemen never called each other out in front of lower orders, servants, or children.
"See that you do!" snarled Mulciber.
"Mr. Talbot," I said.
"What is it, girl?"
"Are you and the Headmaster—? I mean, are you in some sort of financial trouble with him or something? I realize it is not my place to ask, but you seem so angry…"
Mulciber smiled. "I had some friends in Herculaneum. They saw me angry. This isn't angry. Reginald and I are not competitors. We are enemies, and I may have to kill him someday. I hope not, though. Bad for business.
"Good day to you, miss. Reggie, I'll see myself off the property. I know the way. 'Tis my damn property anyway."
And with a rolling gait, clashing his steel cane at every other step, Mulciber stomped away.
I actually felt sorry for Boggin. I don't know why I did, because I knew what he had done and how he brought it on himself. But I said, "I am sorry I had to see that, Headmaster. I am really sorry."
Boggin drew himself up and glared down at me. For a moment, I could see peeking through his expression that masculine pride and almost sexual power he had shown in dealing with me before. But it did not come to the fore. He wanted just to order me to forget it, to sponge away his humiliation in my eyes.
But he thought I had forgotten he was a god, one of several involved in some sort of deadly struggle, between factions vying for control of the throne of heaven. He thought I did not remember being carried through the air in his strong, strong arms. He thought that I did not remember being spanked by him.
So he couldn't say whatever he wanted to say. He couldn't erase his shame by reminding me of his power and pride. He was supposed to be just the headmaster of a school.
"Let us not speak of this again, Miss Windrose. Perhaps His Lordship is aching in his joints, and the pain has distracted him. We cannot be too quick to judge those whom fate has condemned to being grossly crippled, can we? That will be all. You may go."