Anita Mills (15 page)

“Well, you will be better on the morrow, and more so the day after that,” she said bracingly. “And if you like, I will read to you when I come again.”

“What?”

“Whatever you like. Perhaps you would hear a novel— or a play, do you think?”

“Shakespeare’s sonnets—or whist. Regular Jack Handy at whist.”

She looked down to where his fingers curved over hers, and the first thought that came to mind was how strong they appeared despite his being wounded. The second thought was that she had no business touching him at all. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away.

“Yes, well, if you are up to whist, then whist it will be.” She rose again. “Do try to sleep, sir.”

“You will come back tomorrow?”

“I’ll come every day until you are better.”

“ ’Twill be weeks, Miss Gordon—weeks,” he promised.

F
OR TWO WEEKS
, it seemed that Red Jack regained his strength even more rapidly than expected, despite the ever increasing numbers of the curious who came to call. Indeed, as word of his presence at Blackstone Hall spread, there were those who traveled a full day’s carriage ride to pay respects to a revered hero. And within the neighborhood, there were those who postponed leaving for London in order to present marriageable daughters to him in hopes that one might somehow gain favorable attention.

But it was Kitty, Rollo, and Jessica that he saw every day, the latter only when no excuse to be with Lord Sturbridge could be found. The hours she spent with Jack were interminable to both of them, for she was so self-conscious in his presence that much of her conversation was monosyllabic and punctuated with blushes that bespoke simplicity rather than artifice. He discovered he preferred her sycophantic brother’s determined adulation to her inane civility.

And it was Kitty he awaited eagerly every morning, Kitty who played whist when he felt like it, who read to him, who did not plague him with infernal questions about the war he’d rather forget. Unlike the others, she would listen to him speak of other things, and she supplied conversation that did not center around him. She was, he discovered, a female of her own opinions, and she was not above defending them to him, quite a novelty to one who was used to women who pandered to his supposedly superior male intellect. In short, she was refreshing, she was intelligent, she was lovely. From their certainly unusual introduction, through her frantic attempts to save his life, to her current devotion to his regaining his health, she had been a daring, unconventional girl, far more unfettered by convention than the usual English miss.

He was, he realized, in a fair way to being head over heels for her, and for the first time in his life, he was uncertain of his campaign. As he saw it, analyzing the situation at length, there were two rubs in his way—she was Sturbridge’s betrothed, and she yearned to return to America. In the first instant, he’d not serve Charles an ill turn, not after accepting the hospitality of his house; and in the second, if she were freed of her engagement to the viscount, there was a far greater certainty that she’d book passage across the Atlantic than that she’d accept Baron Haverhill’s suit. It was a devil of a coil.

He realized he’d been mulling the matter for possibly a quarter of an hour on this particular occasion, while Jessica Merriman sat placidly across from him in the morning room, keeping her own thoughts, whatever they were, as usual. How was it that the girl had so little conversation in his presence when she could talk at length to her brother and Sturbridge? he wondered irritably. To draw his mind from her cousin, he determined to speak with her.

“You seem in another world, Miss Merriman,” he chided.

“Ah—no, no, I don’t think so.” She blinked a couple of times before looking up at him, and there was the inevitable blush. “Where would I be?”

“ ’Tis for you to tell,” he teased.

Her color deepened. “It does not signify, sir.”

He gave up pursuit of that vein, turning instead to a subject closer to his heart. “I have not seen your cousin or your brother this morning.”

“No.” She met his eyes again, then looked away. “Mama has sent Rollo to town to see about our carriage wheel, and Kitty is gone with Charles—with Lord Sturbridge, that is— and his mama to visit the vicar’s wife, who complains of a weakness in her legs.”

It was perhaps the most words she’d put together for him since he’d met her. “Then ’tis just you and I today?”

“Oh no! At least I hope ’tis not,” she admitted artlessly. Then, realizing what she’d said, she blushed again. “Oh, dear—I am not supposed to say such things, am I? Besides, there is Mrs. Pennyman for propriety.”

“No, but I suspect ’tis the truth,” he answered a trifle dryly. “Just why do you come every day, Miss Merriman?”

Her color went from rosy to a deep red, and she looked studiously at her slippers. “I don’t know,” she mumbled finally, much in the manner of a chastened child “Your mama makes you,” he hazarded.

“Well, she is gratified that I am in your company, sir,” she admitted. “But I should come anyway.” She looked up almost defiantly, then dropped her eyes again. Her hands nervously pleated the skirt of her figured muslin over her knees. “l am not wed to Haverhill now, after all,” she added low.

It was difficult to follow her. He fought an urge to throttle whatever she hid out of her. “No, you are not. But what is that to me, my dear? I cannot say that you are casting out lures to me, so there must be another reason.”

“Lady Sturbridge likes me,” she declared naively.

“Because she is throwing you at Charles’s head, I think,” he muttered. “She does not appear to like your cousin in the least.”

“Because Kitty is different from what she expects!”

The sudden flare of passion opened a new vista for him. “Ah, yes—she is an American.”

“Well, I can quite see why she would not,” she defended Louise Trevor. “After all, Kitty does not know how to go on at all. I mean, look at what she has done!”

“What has she done?” he asked.

“She abducted you, my lord. And she is forever going about without her abigail, saying she does not need one for she is four and twenty—as though that is to the purpose when she is unwed.” She turned a fine, straight profile to the window and stared for a time. “She has not the least notion how to go on,” she repeated slowly, “and she does not seem to care.”

“And she is betrothed to Charles,” he added gently.

Startled, she looked into his hazel eyes. “Well, of course Lady Sturbridge does not like that. She would prefer he wed someone who would be a credit to him.”

“I was not speaking of Lady Sturbridge just now,” he said quietly. “ ’Twas of you.”

The green and gold flecks in his beautiful eyes seemed to hold her. “I—I—well, I wish him well, of course,” she managed lamely.

“I was of the opinion the courtship between them was of longstanding.”

“No—uh, yes.”

“Miss Merriman, plain speaking will serve us best, I think. I collect that you fancy Charles Trevor yourself.”

“Oh, dear—does it show so much?” she asked miserably.

“Yes.”

Her hands twisted the fabric of her skirt more tightly until he reached over to disengage them. “Well,” she began, exhaling heavily, “he was used to come to see me, you see, but ’twas impossible because of Haverhill. No one knew of it, for we were wed in the North at Papa’s insistence, but still I was not free.”

“I know about that, Miss Merriman.”

“Yes, of course you do. But Mama would have it that ’twas Kitty he came to see, that he was attempting to fix his interest with her.”

“And it served you to let her think it.”

“Yes.”

“And to free you, Kitty Gordon abducted me.”

“And ’twas folly on her part, sir! Oh, I know she meant well,” she conceded, “but she cast us in a worse pickle than before!” Tears welled in her eyes. “Do you not see? When ’twas discovered that she’d spent the night with you at the Hawk and Hog, Charles had to offer for her!”

For a moment, he was lost, and the only thing he could think to say was, “ ’Twas the Pig, Miss Merriman.”

She blinked again, releasing a trickle of tears down each cheek. “What is that to. anything?” she wailed. “Because we thought you were
my
husband, there was no help for it—it had to b-be Charles! And ’tis all my fault!”

“Your fault?” Her reasoning was beyond him. “How is that your fault?”

“S-she did it for me, don’t you see? So I had him offer f-for her!” Her throat constricted visibly, then she nodded. “And I did not know Haverhill was dead!”

“I see.” He reached into the jacket he’d borrowed from Sturbridge and drew out a handkerchief. “No need to be in a pelter over it, Miss Merriman,” he murmured soothingly. “He can cry off.”

She looked up through wet tears. “Charles Trevor is a gentleman, sir!” she declared forcefully before dissolving into tears again. “He c-cannot! Oh, I am the most miserable of females!”

“Then she will have to do it. She does not seem to have a deep passion for him, does she?” he found himself asking almost casually.

“But she cannot! For if she did, then there would be no excuse—that is, well, I do not think she would.”

“Miss Merriman, you have an ally—possibly two,” he amended, considering Lady Sturbridge. Leaning over, he took the handkerchief from her hand and dabbed at her face. “Buck up, for I—”

“La, but what a sight! Can it be that there are two sets of lovers at Blackstone Hall?” Mrs. Pennyman tittered, coming into the room. “Dear Louise will be so pleased, I vow! To think that Red Jack Rayne discovered his lady here!”

“Mrs. Pennyman, ’tis no such—”

“Oh, there they are now! La, when I tell Louise my news, won’t she be surprised!” She reached to squeeze Jessica’s hand. “Such a handsome fellow for you, my dear!”

“Miss Pennyman, I assure you that you are mistaken,” Jack insisted.

But she had already turned to greet her employer, who stood in the foyer with Kitty and Charles. “Only fancy, Louise!” she gushed loudly, “Lord Haverhill has offered for Miss Merriman!”

“What? Oh, no! ’Tis no such thing!” Jessica protested.

“Well, it had certainly better be, for I discovered them in a most compromising situation, I can assure you,” Mrs. Pennyman declared.

“What the devil have you done to Jess—to Miss Merriman?” Charles demanded, advancing into the room.

“I was drying her tears,” Jack muttered through clenched teeth.

“You fiend!” The viscount turned to Jessica. “What did he do that you were crying? Afore God, I’ll see he pays for it!”

There was such protectiveness, such intensity in his face, and some imp within her wanted to prompt his jealousy. “Oh, Charles!” she cried, bursting into tears anew. “He—he—asked—”

“Devil a bit!” Jack protested. “If you think—”

“Stifle it!” Sturbridge snarled. “Another word from you, and I’d like nothing so much as to give you a hole in the other shoulder, Haverhill! And it don’t matter if you
are
Red Jack Rayne—don’t care if you was Wellington himself!”

White-faced, Kitty stared at Jack. “I don’t believe it—not for one minute do I believe it. Jess—”

“Surely you would not take his side against mine?” the younger girl asked incredulously. “Kitty Gordon, I am your cousin!”

Dismayed, Lady Sturbridge looked from one to the other of them, trying to digest what must have happened. “Pennyman,” she demanded, “what did you see?”

“The baron had his arms around Miss Merriman. ’Twas obvious that I interrupted what can only be termed an assignation.”

“Both arms?” Jack asked. “I cannot raise but one.”

“In the morning room?” Kitty fought an urge to laugh and lost. Dissolving into giggles, she shook her head. “I cannot think ’tis the place for it. I should look to somewhere more private, in fact.”

Charles favored his betrothed with a wrathful look. “Shows you what an innocent you are—it don’t make any difference where a man is.” Turning to Red Jack, he declared stiffly, “You will, of course, do the right thing, sir. I shall see you send the notice of the betrothal off to the papers myself.”

“Oh, Charles—no!”

“Dash it, but he ain’t getting away with it, Miss Merriman! Not while there is breath in my body, anyway. Now if he don’t want to do what is right, I’ll meet him over it.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Charles,” his mother said quickly. “I am sure Haverhill will do all that is proper, won’t you, sir?”

“No,” Jack answered baldly. “I have no interest in wedding Miss Merriman, I assure you.”

“Of all the dastardly—” The viscount looked to Jessica. “Miss Merriman, did he behave in an untoward manner to you?”

“This is ridiculous,” Kitty snapped. “Jess, tell him the truth.”

But to Jessica, doing that would be the same as admitting she’d lied to Charles, and she could not bear to lose his regard. Not daring to look at Red Jack, she nodded. “Yes,” she answered almost inaudibly.

“That settles it. The notice will go off forthwith,” Charles decided. “No female will ever be compromised in my house.”

“I say, but what’s the commotion?” Roland Merriman walked in unannounced. “Couldn’t raise anyone, for they was all at the keyhole. “Uh—?” He stopped, aware that something was amiss.

“La, Mr. Merriman, but Colonel Reade has offered for your sister!” Mrs. Pennyman told him excitedly. “Two weddings this year!”

It took a moment for the young man to digest the information, then his face broke into a wide grin. “You don’t say!” Walking to pump Jack’s hand enthusiastically, he exclaimed, “If this don’t beat the Dutch! My sister and Red Jack Rayne! Good to welcome you into the family, sir!”

“Merriman, I assure you that I never—”

He did not finish the words before Charles hit him a glancing blow to the shoulder. For a moment, he staggered as the pain shot through him, then he managed to recover. “Deuced clever of you to hit the bad side,” he muttered.

“Dolly mopper!” the viscount flung at him. Then, perceiving what he’d done, he added defensively, “Meant to get the other one.”

“Will
everyone be calm?” Kitty shouted.

For once, the dowager gave her son’s betrothed an approving smile. “Just so. Must let the tempers cool ere we can sort this out, don’t you think, Kitty dear?”

“Sort what out,” Roland demanded suspiciously. “Is he marrying my sister or not?”

“He is,” Sturbridge insisted.

“Jess?”

“Oh, Rollo!”

“Don’t come the watering pot to me, Jess! Dash it, but I cannot deal with female sensibilities!” He turned to Lady Sturbridge. “Do you know what’s going on?”

Her gaze moved around the room, taking in each participant in turn. “Yes,” she said finally, “I think I do. It appears that Lord Haverhill has led Miss Merriman to believe he meant to offer for her, and Charles means to hold him to it.”

“You don’t say!”

“ ’Twas poor-spirited of you, Jess.” Kitty’s eyes accused her cousin of utter perfidy. “ ’Tis two Haverhills now you have ensnared with your foolishness.”