Maggie MacKeever (23 page)

“Would you?” Impatiently Lord Pennymount strode across the floral carpet, roughly grasped her arm. “Do not try and pull the wool over my eyes, Jess. You were in on your French friend’s plan from the beginning, but at the last minute you developed cold feet. Do you expect me to thank you for washing my dirty linen in public again? I do not! Rather, I should like to break your wretched neck.”

“Oh, I say!” protested the Honorable Adolphus, from his position beside the clock.

Though Lord Pennymount’s irate demeanor might be sufficient to throw any impartial observer into a blind panic, Jessabelle was exhilarated. Clearly Pennymount had not
been rendered gentle as a lamb. In her relief she found it easy to be sweet as honey, like the Ladies Dimity and Emmeline had suggested.

“Come down off your high ropes, Vidal!” she kindly advised. “It accomplishes you nothing to rip up at me.”

And by his first countess’s unabated good humor, Lord Pennymount was convinced she cared not a fig for him. This conviction, combined with the highly improper impulses awakened by her appearance in her nightrail
,
wreaked havoc in his already overheated soul. Were it not for the presence of the Honorable Adolphus, he would have thrown down Jessabelle upon one of the tapestried settees and demonstrated once and for all his mastery—an impulse that, judging from the shocking scene he’d interrupted, Adolphus shared.

“On the contrary!” Lord Pennymount retorted, casting the Honorable Dolph a glance so hostile that the young man quaked. “It does me a great deal of good—and you also! Because it prevents me murdering you on the spot!”

“Dash it!” muttered Adolphus, upon this proof of his suspicion that violence was about to be done. A gentleman would leap to the defense of his betrothed, of course, would at least issue a challenge and demand honor was satisfied. Eyeing Lord Pennymount’s muscular build, Adolphus decided he was no gentleman.

Vidal’s broken engagement had made him very angry, Jessabelle realized, a realization that made her queerly angry in turn. Still she sought to maintain her composure. To that end she laid her own hand upon the hand that so firmly grasped her arm. “Perhaps,” she said selflessly, “you may still make it up.”

“Make it up!” By this indication of how little his first countess cared how he spent the remainder of his life, caring not even if he was made miserable by marriage to a noodle, Lord Pennymount was further incensed. “Scant chance there is of that! Lady Camilla doesn’t wish a husband who will glower at her every morning over the breakfast cups. And where the devil did she get the crackbrained notion that I’m prone to violence, I’d like to know!”

Pointedly Jessabelle refrained from comment. Vidal was more affected by the termination of his betrothal than she would have thought possible. That realization stung her. He had not been half so overset by the termination of his first marriage, she thought. “I
am
sorry,” she repeated, somberly. Accompanying that somber tone was the pensive expression that Lord Pennymount found so difficult to resist.

And why should he resist it, pray? Jessabelle might be exciting the emotions of half the men in London these days, but surely he had some privileges, since his were the first passions she had ever roused. Yes, and much as she might dislike him, she was not indifferent. Ignoring Adolphus, peering cautiously around the clock, he pulled her roughly into his arms.

“Zounds!” ejaculated Adolphus.

“The devil!” cried Jess, when she was at length released.

“Jade!” snarled Lord Pennymount, in the midst of a fit of jealousy prompted by thought of all the other gentlemen who had enjoyed the favors that he recalled so well. As if to set his stamp on Jess he then embraced her again. Since it was clear he was not inspired by affection, Jessabelle struggled to free herself. Since he did not realize her struggles were half-hearted, Lord Pennymount abruptly let her go.

“How
dare
you!” cried Jess, having decided outrage was preferable to tears.

Lord Pennymount curled his lip. “Why should I
not
dare?” he inquired. “When everyone else does?”

With trembling fingers Jess straightened her nightcap, which had during his lordship’s demonstration of ardor been knocked askew. “I think that you had better explain yourself, Vidal.”

“Gladly!” Lord Pennymount was pleased to note her damnable composure had at last begun to crack. “Do not try and deny you have been inviting frippery fellows and loose screws to kiss you—or that you are dangling after Aethelwine’s fortune, much good it may do you! Old Aethelwine is a nipfarthing and he’ll cut his son off without a groat before he gives it over to you to spend.” He cast Adolphus a contemptuous glance. “I told you before that I will not permit this marriage, Jess!”

“And I told you,” snapped Jessabelle, “that I don’t care a button for your opinion! Indeed, for all
I
care, you may go to the devil, Vidal!”

Obviously his first countess had deliberately set out to inflame his senses or she would not have set herself at loggerheads with him, decided Lord Pennymount, quite overlooking the circumstance that he had never informed Jessabelle that her defiance invariably had that effect. “Do not try and turn me up sweet!” he demanded, as he grasped her shoulders and gave her a strong shake. Jessabelle retaliated promptly: she kicked him in the shin. Lord Pennymount winced and bent to rub the afflicted limb. When he straightened, it was not for long. Adolphus—having decided that he was a gentleman, and therefore honor bound to defend his fiancé from further gross insult—felled him immediately with a swift blow to the chin.

“I say!” said Dolph, staring at his victim. “Didn’t realize how handy a bunch of fives I have! Not that he’d have let me nap him a rum one had he seen it coming, which is why I made sure he
didn’t.
I’ll be hanged if I see why you’re making such a piece of work of it!” he added, because Jessabelle had dropped to her knees beside her prostrate ex-spouse. Startled, he goggled as she stood up, moved, bent and grasped his lordship’s feet, and pulled. “By Jove! Tell me he ain’t dead!”

“Clunch! Of course he is not!” gasped Jess. “But if you do not help me get him into his carriage before he recovers his senses,
you
are very likely to be!”

Adolphus blanched. “Egad!” he squeaked, and hastily lent his efforts. Together they wrestled his lordship’s inert body out of the morning room and along the hallway, rolled him down the stair. Then they were outside and his lordship’s groom was persuaded to assist. Dashed clever it was of Jessabelle, thought Adolphus, to hint that his lordship’s unconsciousness was due to an overindulgence in the grape.

Dashed considerate Jessabelle was also of his lordship’s unconscious person, decided Adolphus, as she fussed about his placement in the coach. A suspicion struck him. Her conduct bore it out. Adolphus was not accustomed to being visited by revelation. Consequently he was very pleased with himself. “Tell you what!” he said, eager to share his revelation with its object. “You’re in love with Pennymount! It’s plain as the nose on your face!”

Mme. Joliffe evidenced no admiration for the quick workings of her fiancé’s brain. In the point of fact she bade him somewhat rudely get out other way. Hastily he stepped back. She climbed out of the carriage, closed the door, bade the groom take his master home and see him safely put to bed.

She had not denied his accusation, decided Dolph. “But if you’re in love with Pennymount, why do you want to marry
me?”
he inquired plaintively.

Jessabelle had done with charades. The sight of Vidal stretched out senseless on her carpet had made her realize very clearly the nature of her feelings toward him. She had made him very unhappy, she thought sadly; she had mocked him, and made a byword of his venerable name; she had destroyed his romance with Lady Camilla, and had shattered his hopes. He would never forgive her. In atonement she could only insure that she embarrassed him no more.

 “I
don’t
wish to marry you!” she snapped. “Do go home, Adolphus, and let me pack.”

“You don’t?” echoed the Honorable Dolph, vastly relieved. “By Jove! I don’t mind admitting you gave me a very nasty turn. Devoted to you, of course! Fine as fivepence and all that! Thing is, I don’t think we’d
suit!”
Then he frowned. “Pack, you say?” But Mme. Joliffe had already escaped into her little gray brick house and behind her slammed the door.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Meanwhile Sir Edward, upon conclusion of his dinner party, had discovered both his offspring missing from his house. Consequently he sought out Lord Pennymount, whom he considered either directly or indirectly responsible for all his woes, only to discover that the earl was also unaccounted for. The Ladies Dimity and Emmeline were present at Pennymount House, however, and came downstairs to discover what all the fuss was about.

Sir Edward spared no gruesome detail. The ladies listened, exchanging several speaking glances. Then Lady Emmeline sternly announced that since Sir Edward had roused them from their slumbers, he could not in good conscience refuse to allow them to accompany him to the gaming-hell of Capitaine Chançard. To ensure that he did not try to slip away while they attired themselves suitably for the occasion, Lady Dimity left Tom and Tab and Puss, Grimalkin, and Marmalade on guard.

“Isn’t this
exciting?”
breathed Dimmy, as they set out. “I grow more and more convinced that Papa guided you to us, Sir Edward, because never before have we had opportunity to view a gaming-hell!”

That Reverend Vickers should wish his innocent daughters to visit so depraved a setting accorded perfectly with the bizarre viewpoints regarding sanitation and women’s rights and free trade as expressed so eloquently by that gentleman in letters written to the
Times.
“The deuce!” muttered Sir Edward, who at this point in a long and harrowing evening was concerned primarily with finding someone on whom he might fairly vent his wrath. Denied access to his offspring and Lord Pennymount, the ideal candidate was Capitaine Chançard.

As matters evolved, Sir Edward was not forced by circumstance to vent his wrath solely on Capitaine Chançard. No sooner did he step into the Ionic-columned reception room than his ear was smote by the sweet music of a harpsichord. Sir Edward knew well those gracious tones, achievement of which had cost him many a headache and a staggering tuition fee. “Thunderation!” he ejaculated, greatly startling Lady Dimity, who had been inspecting the side posts of the doorway, worked with bands of guilloche work enclosing honeysuckle.

“Sir Edward!” cautioned Lady Emmeline, who had spent these several moments in terse conversation with the pugilistic—and highly astonished—Pegs. But her warning came too late; Sir Edward had already set foot on the stair. Once more the sisters exchanged a meaningful glance before setting out in pursuit. Pegs stared after them. Then, like many another good servant after discovering his master’s horse inexplicably missing from the barn, he bolted the door.

Within the tall and lofty saloon, merriment reigned. At its center, Lady Camilla played eloquently upon a harpsichord that had been moved in from elsewhere in the house. She looked quite lovely, flushed and excited and altogether adorable. Alas, Milly’s obvious enjoyment of the situation did not endear her to her sire, who no sooner glimpsed his daughter than he stalked wrathfully across the room and slammed shut the keyboard cover, very narrowly missing her hands.

“Papa!” protested Lady Camilla, with a wounded glance. “I did not know you disliked music. You should have said so.”

Sir Edward was, for once, wholly unaffected by his lovely daughter’s pretty airs. “It ain’t music I dislike!” he ominously announced. “But
you
, my girl
!
Would you mind telling me what the devil you think you’re about?”

“Not at all!” Lady Camilla responded cheerfully. “Because it is very clear that I will have to explain sometime, and it might as well be now. What is it you do not understand, Papa? Why I do not wish to marry Pennymount? Not because of what Adolphus told me about him being depraved, so you must not rip up at Dolph. He must have mistaken the matter, I think. Because if Pennymount was depraved, he would have had much more practice kissing. Not that he doesn’t kiss nicely! I was used to think him very practiced until—but we won’t talk of
that!
The thing is, I don’t love Pennymount! And old dogs cannot learn new tricks!”

What dogs, old or otherwise, had to do with the current situation, Sir Edward was afraid to ask. “I don’t mind telling you I’m cross as crabs about this business!” he snapped.

Lady Camilla wrinkled her pretty nose
.
“I know you are. Everybody knows it. I am not so shatterbrained as all that! But you see, Papa, he has taken my fancy to an alarming degree, and I’m
not
a pudding-heart!”

Who had taken his daughter’s fancy? Pennymount? If so, why had she broken off their betrothal? Sir Edward groaned.

The Ladies Dimity and Emmeline glanced at one another, then at the handsome gentleman who was gazing with a fond expression upon the young lady seated at the harpsichord. Together they advanced. Capitaine Chançard was roused from contemplation of his beloved by two identical gray-haired ladies clad in black accessorized by cat hair. The ladies in turn were exposed to Michon’s beguiling smile. It was a case of mutual affection at first glance.

“Gracious!” said Lady Dimity, happily. “Papa is definitely guiding our footsteps! Not only are we actually inside a gaming-hell, we have discovered the perfect person to explain to us how it goes on! But how silly you must think us! You do not even know who we are. We know who
you
are, sir, and though my sister may accuse me of having a heart tender as a chicken, I am very grateful to you for standing Jessabelle’s friend!”

Upon receipt of these praises—which, considering how his acquaintance with Mme. Joliffe had come about, were highly undeserved—Michon had the grace to flush. Lady Emmeline performed a more proper introduction, and reiterated Dimmy’s request to be shown the workings of a gaming-hell. Capitaine Chançard cast a glance at the harpsichord, where Lady Camilla was in full spate: Sir Edward’s eyes threatened to pop right out of his head. Clearly Milly had the situation well in hand. Politely Michon escorted the Ladies Dimity and Emmeline around the saloon, explaining to them the rival attractions of whist and macao, hazard and deep basset. Then he left them to observe a rubber of piquet being played, and retraced his steps.