Anita Mills (16 page)

“Kitty! ’Twas no such thing,” the younger girl insisted. “You were not here.”

“Er—may I speak privately with Miss Merriman?” Jack asked suddenly.

“Won’t have you oversetting her,” Sturbridge maintained stoutly. “Don’t think it necessary.”

“Charles, I see no harm,” his mother countered. “I mean, he cannot do very much with all of us in earshot, after all.”

“I—uh, I’d very much rather not,” Jessica whispered, coloring.

“Nonsense!” Roland declared. “Utter rubbish! If he’s going to marry you, it don’t make no sense for you to act like a peagoose around him.” He turned to address Jack. “Take her out into the garden,” he advised. “Ain’t raining yet today.”

“Charles—”

“Jess Merriman, I am disappointed in you,” Kitty declared with feeling. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“Girl’s overset,” Sturbridge began, then held his tongue.

“Miss Merriman?” Jack asked softly.

Jessica had gotten herself into a sorry plight, and she knew it. Yet if she disavowed everything, Charles would certainly lower his opinion of her. Aware that everyone watched her expectantly, she nodded.

“After you, Miss Merriman.”

“If he offers you any violence, I shall be there on the instant,” the viscount promised. “And he shall pay for it,” he added menacingly to Jack.

Red Jack did not say anything to her until they reached the garden gate. Unlatching it, he waited for her to pass beneath his good arm. She looked up hesitantly, seeing not a handsome auburn-haired gentleman but rather a stern fellow who reminded her much in this instant of her late father when he was vexed. She ducked beneath, and walked quickly up one of the neat walkways.

“Have you not thought that I shall made a devil of a husband, Miss Merriman, if you persist in holding me to this nonsense?” he asked without preamble.

“Well, I—” She considered batting her eyelashes for effect, but the cold fury she saw in his hazel eyes stopped her.

He moved closer, and before she could run, he reached out to clasp her chin in strong fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You see, I am not like my cousin Henry—not at all. When I wed, I expect to produce children.”

“Really, my lord, but this is most improper. I—”

“Is it?” he asked silkily. “I shall not be satisfied for what passes for marriage among the rest of the
ton,
I assure you. Wed with me and I am all you will get, Miss Merriman. There will be no dalliance with Sturbridge or any other fool, and you’d best believe it. Play me false, and I’ll see your lover dead—do you understand that?”

She shuddered visibly, and tried to shake her head, but his fingers were like a vise. “Please,” she gasped.

He laughed derisively, then bent his head to hers. At first she was too shocked to stop him, but then she began to struggle to no avail. He kissed her ruthlessly before releasing her. As she stumbled away, he asked, “Is this what you want? A man you cannot lead with your wiles?”

“No. No, of course not …” She felt her lips gingerly as if to see if they were still there. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she mumbled contritely. “I should not have done it, but I did not want Charles to think … well, you heard what that woman said … and I could not …” Her voice faded as her humiliation rose.

“She is a tittery old fool.”

She swallowed hard, her mortification making it difficult. “I—I shall tell them—and—and I shall never see Charles again,” she managed miserably, hanging her head. “I shall lose his regard, you know. And Lady Sturbridge will send me home to Mama in disgrace for being fast.”

“No more Cheltenham tragedies, Miss Merriman, if you please.” But even as he spoke, the harshness was gone from his voice. “Devil of a coil, isn’t it?” he asked tiredly. “But I am afraid you will have to admit to the error, for I am not the sort of man to marry in some mistaken gesture of nobility.”

“But there will be such a row when Rollo tells Mama. And she will not let Kitty and me ever come here again—I know it.” She sucked back a sob and lifted her chin. “I suppose I must,” she decided, sighing heavily.

He walked away, combing his hair with his hand as though he could somehow clear a cluttered mind. “You want Charles Trevor very much, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then why the devil the subterfuge, Miss Merriman?” he demanded, exasperated.

“Because he is betrothed to Kitty! Because he has too much honor to cry off! Oh, I am the most miserable of females!”

“Why can you not just tell him the truth?”

“Because it won’t fadge!” Tears coursed down her cheeks freely. “You do not understand! After this, I have lost him. If I say I lied—that I misled him—that ’twas not the way Pennyman saw it, he will despise me.”

“If you are betrothed to me, he’d have to be a pretty havey-cavey fellow to hang after you,” he pointed out reasonably.

“If he thought I was going to wed you, he might become jealous enough to cry off!”

“But you just said—”

“I don’t care what I just said!”

“Jealousy is a powerful thing, Miss Merriman. And sometimes we are not prepared for what it unleashes.”

But he spoke to the air, for she’d turned and run back toward the house. For a long moment, he stared after her, considering what he ought to do. And somehow the thought that Kitty Gordon might not come to see him again was almost beyond bearing. Duplicity was not something he liked at all, and yet … well, perhaps it would be justified much as a ruse in a campaign. He would do it. Holding his shoulder with one hand and his thigh with the other, he tried to hurry after Jessica Merriman.

“Charles—” She stood in the doorway, her face white, her body trembling. “Charles, I have to tell you—”

Red Jack caught up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Wish me happy, Charles,” he said. “Miss Merriman and I have an understanding.”

“My congratulations, sir,” Sturbridge said stiffly.

“I say, ’tis jolly great, ain’t it?” Roland chortled. “My sister and Red Jack!”

The dowager managed a tight smile that told everyone she was quite disappointed in both Jessica and Lord Haverhill, for they’d thrown a spoke in her wheel also. “Well, I hope you know what you are about, of course,” was all she could bring herself to say.

“La, but we shall have two weddings in the same season!” Mrs. Pennyman exclaimed. “How diverting!” Then, as her employer’s smile grew even colder, she added lamely, “Well, perhaps not two …”

Turning in hopes of catching sight of Kitty Gordon, Jack saw her leave. “Your pardon,” he murmured, moving for the door. “Be back in a trice.”

Hobbling as fast as his bad leg would take him, he caught her in the drive. “Going somewhere, Miss Gordon?”

“Home,” she answered shortly.

“May I ask why?”

She spun around to face him angrily. “You were a fool to be so taken in, my lord—a bloody fool.”

“And a gentleman,” he reminded her.

“I am sick unto death of manners that make people do what they ought not!” she snapped. “As far as I am concerned, England is a nation of fools! Men duel over nothing, commit themselves to the ridiculous, and call it honor!”

“Miss Gordon—”

“No. I am going back to America—to South Carolina, to be precise.”

He fell into step beside her, limping heavily to favor his aching leg. “Not by walking, I hope.”

“No. I shall merely walk to Rose Farm, then I shall take the stage to Plymouth. I’ll go if I have to sell my mother’s jewelry for passage.”

“Miss Gordon, I wish you would not.”

“I have no patience with fools, my lord.”

She walked faster, making it more difficult for him to keep up. Two weeks of bed rest, coupled with his old wound, made his leg weaker than usual. “Cannot walk so fast,” he muttered under his breath. “Got to stop.”

“Good day, my lord.”

“Wait—cannot—” Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead as he struggled after her. “Miss Gordon—”

She was angry, as angry as she could ever remember being, and yet there was that within her that wanted him to say it had been a mistake. She slowed down, then looked up at him. He was pale beneath his red hair, and obviously in distress. For an awful moment, she feared he meant to faint.

“Lud! Why did you come after me?” she demanded furiously. “Here—lean on me. Of all the cork-brained things to do, this is the most idiotish—” Words failed her. “How the
deuce
am I to walk off if you fall?” she demanded finally.

“Got to get back—to lie down—”

“Of course you do, you clunch!” She stood there for a moment, torn by indecision. And then she remembered how he’d fallen for Jessica’s foolishness, and she was angered all over again. “You!” she called out to one of Blackstone Hall’s stableboys. “Yes—you! Come take Lord Haverhill back to the house ere he swoons!”

When the boy arrived to aid her, she fairly shoved Jack onto him. “Good day, my lord. I wash my hands of you.”

“Owe you—a week’s pay—for whist,” he gasped, bending over to hold his leg.

“Play Jessica—you’ll win it back,” she retorted brutally.

There was no help for it—he had to let her go. For a few moments, he stood there, leaning on the stableboy, watching her walk down the lane. Then, with the boy’s help, he limped slowly back. Roland was coming down the portico steps after him as he reached the end of the drive.

“What the deuce—? Where’s Kit?”

“Walking home.”

“ ’Tis two miles!”

“I know.” Jack leaned over and half-fell onto a step. “Useless,” he muttered. “Couldn’t stop her.”

“You ain’t useless,” Roland insisted, stooping to help him stand. “You are Red Jack Rayne, and that’s more than any of the rest of us can claim to be.” He threw Jack’s good arm over his shoulder and hoisted him. “Don’t know why Kitty didn’t come back with you—it ain’t like her to let anything hurt, you know. Farm’s full of animals she’s brought home—too tender-hearted by half.”

“I hope so—I certainly hope so.”

“Eh?”

“Just help me to bed. And fetch Miss Merriman—got to talk to her.”

“W
HAT DO YOU MEAN
he’s suffered a setback? He was getting on well enough when I last saw him.” Kitty stopped, recalling how he’d looked nigh to fainting when she left. “Well,” she owned, sighing, “perhaps not well, precisely, but certainly not at death’s door.” She eyed Jessica irritably. “Though I cannot say that he probably does not wish for a way out of this ridiculous betrothal you have foisted on him.”

“I didn’t foist it on him, Kit! ’Twas that totty-headed Pennyman!”

“You went along with her!” Kitty said accusingly. “And don’t fib to me, for it won’t fadge, Jessica Merriman! ’Tis to Catherine Gordon you would tell such a farradiddle, and I know better!”

“Kitty! But I didn’t!”

“Are you telling me that Red Jack Rayne—that Rollo’s hero of dashed near everything—tried to seduce you?”

“No, but that woman
twisted
it, Kitty.” As was her wont whenever something went awry, Jessica burst into tears. “You don’t understand!”

“Oh, stuff! Either he did or he didn’t, Jess—and if he didn’t, then you have trapped an innocent man into marriage.”

“You make it sound as though marrying me is like going to prison,” Jessica muttered, sniffling. “Charles—”

“And you can have Charles! Though how you are to wed two of them, I am sure I don’t know!”

“I don’t want Red Jack, Kitty! He—he
scares
me! He does! When he k-kissed me, I thought I should die!”

For an awful moment, Kitty did not want to believe her ears. “He kissed you—Red Jack Rayne kissed you?” she asked hollowly. “When?”

“In the garden when we went outside—and he—he told me if I wed him, he’d expect me to have his children! And he’d kill my lovers! Kitty, I cannot wed him—I cannot!” Jess finished tragically. “We should not suit at all!”

“Then why the deuce did he say you had an understanding?” Kitty demanded angrily.

“I don’t know. I was coming back to tell Charles that it wasn’t so—that Red Jack had done nothing beyond listen to me speak of him. And then there he was, saying we had this understanding, Kit—but I swear we did not.”

“But he kissed you.”

“It was the most unloverlike kiss in my life, Kit—I hated it. It—it was
brutal
—like he wanted me to run away—to have a disgust of him.”

“No doubt,” her cousin observed dryly. “If you watered the plants for him as much as you have for me, he probably wished you at Jericho.” She eyed Jess curiously. “Just how many times have you been kissed, coz? I thought in England ’twas considered fast.”

“Not often,” Jessica retorted indignantly. “Before this Haverhill, there was but the time with the other Haverhill— and Charles, of course.”

“Oh—of course,” Kitty repeated sarcastically.

“Kitty Gordon,
will
you listen to me?” Jess demanded, recalling Red Jack’s instructions to her. “Colonel Rayne is in bad case—he may be dying even.”

“I doubt that.”

“His fever came up, and we feared his wound had broken open, and—”

“After two weeks?” Kitty asked, lifting one brow. “I don’t think so, Jess.”

“After you left, Lady Sturbridge sent to Dr. Ellis. You can ask Rollo—’twas he who went for him.”

“He ought not to have been out walking.”

“Well, I have never seen you so—so mean-spirited, Kitty Gordon, never in my life!”

“Maybe I’ve never been quite so vexed,” her cousin replied acidly. “And with reason.”

“Lud, is there nothing I can say to you?”

“Good-bye.” Kitty saw the younger girl’s eyes widen. “I am going home, Jess.”

It was that moment that Isabella Merriman chose to convey her pleasure with her eldest daughter. “There you are, my love! You naughty puss! Why did you leave it to Rollo to tell me the good news?”

“Uh—”

“La, Kitty will be a viscountess and you a baroness! I vow the two of you have cast me into transports! And we need never worry that the other Haverhill will out, for this one already knows of it—’tis the very thing I have prayed for.”

“Mama—”

“Do you think Louise would approve joining the weddings? ’Twould save on the expense, and—”

“Mama, there is a problem.” Jess waited for her mother’s attention, then she nodded. “I am afraid Haverhill has suffered a dreadful setback.”

“Surely not—why I had it of Rollo but the other day that the doctor was more than pleased with his progress, my love.”

“That was before he ran after Kitty.”

“Ran after Kitty?” Isabella asked faintly. “Whatever for?”

“That doesn’t matter, Mama,” Jess answered tiredly. “I guess he must have injured his wounds. And he is fevered.”

“Fevered! From running?”

“I daresay he was not well before, but now he is worse.”

Isabella sank onto Kitty’s bed and reached for the latest book of fashion plates to fan herself. “I have never heard of such a thing. Well, I daresay he will recover, won’t he?”

“I expect so, but the doctor despairs of the fever.” Out of the corner of her eye, Jessica watched Kitty. “He believed Red Jack’s wound is putrifying underneath—that the scab covers an infection.”

“Oh, dear. I have heard of such things, of course, but I never suspected—I mean, I thought he was recovering.”

“As did we all.”

“Kitty ready yet?” Roland called through the door.

“Oh, Rollo, I cannot persuade her!”

“Eh? Why not?” he asked, coming in.

“Roland Merriman, what would you have done had I been
en
deshabille?”
Kitty demanded angrily. “You cannot just barge in here.”

His eyes traveled over her neat pink muslin gown. “But you ain’t. Dash it, Kit—I knowed you wasn’t! Always dressed this time of day, ain’t you?”

“ ’Tis Bedlam,” she muttered with feeling. “Utter Bedlam.”

“You ain’t going? Red Jack was asking for you, Kit.”

“No.”

“But he was.”

“No, I am not going.”

“Dash it, the man may be dying!”

“Just after he offered for Jessica?” Isabella wailed. “He cannot!”

“Got a fever hotter than a kitchen stove.”

“Since when?” Kitty asked suspiciously.

“Since we carried him upstairs. I went back up to see him, and he was a-burning up, I tell you—a burning! Never seen nothing like it, I swear!”

“Rollo, is this your idea of a whisker?”

“Kitty, I’m telling you Red Jack’s in bad case—bad case! Out of his head with it, and asking for you.”

“Are you quite certain ’twas not Jess?” she asked slyly. “His betrothed?”

“Saw her already. Asked for you also.”

Isabella, who’d been trying to follow everything, put down the magazine. “But why would he wish to see Catherine?”

“Quarreled with her. A dying man wants to set things to right.”

“Of all the nonsense—”

“That way, even if he don’t die, he’s got his house in order,” he continued. “Now, Kit—d’you go or not?”

“Rollo, I think this is perhaps the biggest gammon you have ever pulled, and I am not about to be taken in by it. You can tell Red Jack Rayne that I hope he rots.”

“Kitty!” Isabella gasped.

“Tell you what—go see him,” Roland coaxed, “and if it’s a hum, you can punch him in the shoulder.”

“But I still don’t see why it has to be Catherine,” Isabella murmured. “If he is betrothed to Jessica, it seems—well …”

“Told you,” her son answered impatiently. “Wants to make amends while he can.”

“Aunt Bella, he was fine this morning. In fact, I collect he was about to kiss Jess. Does that sound like a dying man to you?”

“No—no, of course not.” Turning a reproachful eye on her daughter, Isabella wondered, “Was that before or after you were become engaged, my love?”

“After, Mama. But that is nothing to the purpose now, after all. Kitty, I am telling you the man is as sick as a—a—”

“A dog,” Roland supplied. “Shot the cat twice after we got him to bed.”

“Well, Catherine, if it will make the baron feel better, perhaps you ought to go,” Isabella suggested tentatively. “I mean, what will Charles and his mother think if you do not?”

“But I have no wish to!”

“Nonsense. One does one’s duty, after all. Your dear papa was used to put duty before all else, my love. Indeed, but if it had not been for duty, I daresay he would have preferred to stay in England.”

“I pray you will leave Papa out of this. There is no relevancy, I assure you.”

“Never knew you was a quitter, Kit,” Roland told her. “Always thought you was up to anything, you know.”

Goaded, Kitty snapped, “Cut line, Rollo! When I abducted Haverhill, you did not think so much of me:”

“Did when I discovered ’twas Red Jack.”

“Please, Kitty,” Jessica pleaded. “For me.”

“For you? That’s rich, it is, Jessica Merriman!”

“I think we should all go,” Isabella decided. “I mean, if Jessica’s betrothed is in dire situation, perhaps the family ought to be there.”

“Kitty, I swear he is terribly ill,” Jess insisted. “I swear it. And if he is not, you can have my new white muslin with the blue sash—’twill become your eyes.”

“If he is not, I will not need it in prison,” Kitty muttered. “Do they hang females in this country?”

“Well, I am not precisely sure—oh, I collect you are funning, aren’t you, Kit?”

“No, Rollo, I am not.”

Isabella rose from the bed. “ ’Tis settled then. Thankfully, the carriage wheel is fixed, so we will not have to make two trips this time.” She surveyed each girl critically. “Jessica, my dearest, you really ought to put a little rouge on the harsefoot. And Kitty, my love, I think the sprigged muslin becomes you better. Indeed, but the one you are wearing looks like a rag.”

“ ‘Cause she walked home in it.”

The older woman blinked as she digested the notion. “Oh. Well, I suppose that explains it, of course. Not at all the thing to do, my love,” she scolded mildly. “What if you had been seen? The neighbors would think it exceedingly odd of you.”

“They think me odd already,” Kitty retorted, unrepentant.

“Nonsense. Come on—Rollo will order ’round the carriage.”

Much against her better judgment, Kitty found herself on the way to Blackstone Hall in the repaired coach. As Isabella chattered about two weddings, her niece stared out into the newly green countryside. It was foolish to go back, to face Red Jack again. He was, she told herself severely, an accomplished flirt, no more and no less. And if he had not offered for Jess, then he ought not to have said he had, she recalled, seething. But then it was all of a piece, for had not Sturbridge come up to scratch for all the wrong reasons also?

“If you pulled your face any longer, Kitty Gordon, your chin would rest on the floor,” Roland teased her.

“And if you do not leave her alone, she just might plant you a facer,” his sister told him.

“Females do not use cant, Jessica.”

“Kit does.”

“Catherine, coming from America, is different.”

Ignoring them, Kitty studiously kept her eyes on the window. Yes, she was different, and she was glad of it, she told herself mutinously. She believed in saying what she meant, for one thing.

Lady Sturbridge met them on the portico herself, not bothering to wait for the butler to admit them. “Thank heavens you are come!”

It was the first time that Kitty considered the possibility that the baron was indeed ill, for Charles’s mama would certainly not be party to any prank. Her heart rising in her throat, she dared to ask, “Lord Haverhill has taken worse?”

“Worse?” Louise cried tragically. “My dear, he is out of his head! And poor Dr. Ellis can think of no reason for it!”

“But he was getting well—he was!”

“Ellis has called in Crawford for a consult, and they are both with him now,” Charles explained, coming out behind her. “Deuced odd thing, it was, too, for we’d just gotten him to bed. Queasy, you know. Ought not to have been out and about so soon, and certainly not trying to run on that leg of his.” Ignoring the fact that Kitty flushed guiltily, he continued, “Thing was, after he spoke with Jessica, she came down and told me he was feverish. Thought it was from the exertion, don’t you know? Short of it was that I went up and found him too hot to touch.”

“Oh, my.”

“Sent for Ellis on the instant—Rollo went. Doctor came back and said he was hanged if he knew what had happened. Was on the mend yesterday, after all.” His eyes met Kitty’s briefly. “Deuced odd,” he repeated.

“Oh, good heavens—what you must think me, Isabella dear,” the dowager tittered nervously. “Do come inside, and I’ll ring for tea—or would you prefer ratafia?”

“Brandy for me,” Rollo insisted.

The two physicians were coming down the stairs together as Kitty followed Charles inside. Seeing him, Dr. Ellis cleared his throat. “Don’t know what to make of it, my lord, and neither does Crawford.”

“Surely you must have some idea,” Kitty protested weakly.

“Eh?” He looked at her from beneath bushy brows. “Young woman, if I knew, I’d say,” he retorted testily. Turning to his colleague, he shook his head. “Odd business, don’t you think?”

“Odd. The only possibility I see is that the fellow has an infection beneath where ’tis healed—that perhaps a piece of the ball is still there.”

“Probed for it myself,” Dr. Ellis reminded him. “Told you so, in fact.”

“But would an infection come on so suddenly?” Kitty asked.

“No.” Crawford appeared to consider the matter further, then added, “Not unless he’s been sicker than was thought from the beginning. Red Jack Rayne, ain’t he? Always heard as how he cannot be brought down, and perhaps that’s got something to do with it. Took a ball that ought to have cost his leg, but didn’t.”

“Not to mention the other balls that were dug out of him,” Ellis reminded him.

“Thing is, he ain’t used to being down from things like this. Overdid it, I daresay. Latent infection has got him from it:”

Kitty’s heart sank. “Can I see him?”

“Shouldn’t think it advisable,” Crawford answered.

“Dash it, but he’s asked for her,” Rollo told him.

“Well—” The two physicians exchanged glances, then Dr. Ellis decided. “If you do not tax his strength, I suppose—”

“Thank you, sir.”