The Battling Bluestocking (8 page)

“Well, she still needs to get dry and warm,” Lady Gordon said firmly. “Take her upstairs, Andrew. Mrs. Borthwick will show you. Perhaps if you soothe her the way one would soothe a wild bird, it would help.”

He nodded gratefully, then began to murmur soft nonsense to the girl as he followed Mrs. Borthwick up the wide stairway. The girl seemed to settle more quietly into his arms as he spoke.

Jessica looked at her sister. “You handled that very well, Georgie.”

Lady Gordon straightened a little, smiling. “Yes, I did, did I not? I expect it comes of playing Lady Bountiful so often. One learns what to do in certain circumstances.”

“You speak as though a refugee washing up on the beach is a common occurrence,” Jessica teased.

“No, of course not,” Georgeanne said with dignity. “It is simply a matter of using one’s common sense and doing the most important thing first. It was perfectly clear that the most important thing was to get the poor creature dry and warm with some nourishing English food in her.”

“You are a good person, Georgie, but something feels odd in all this.”

“Time enough to sort it out once she’s on her feet again,” Lady Gordon said practically. Then, with a spark of mischief in her eye, she added, “Perhaps you ought to seek Sir Brian’s advice in the matter.”

“Don’t be ridic—” Jessica broke off when she noticed her sister’s laughing eyes. “You rogue, Georgie. You know how I detest receiving advice from that man.”

“Or from anyone else,” her ladyship pointed out with sisterly bluntness. “I have frequently noted, however, that Sir Brian quite enjoys being asked for advice. Or have you not observed that fact?”

“He has a habit of thrusting it upon one whether one asks it or not,” Jessica replied, not without a touch of tartness in her tone.

“I expect it comes of being a justice of the peace and deciding other people’s lives for them,” said Lady Gordon placidly, “and since he will learn about this business soon enough, you might as well be prepared.”

Jessica smiled at her. For once she didn’t think she would mind at all hearing what Sir Brian would have to say. It was a puzzling situation. Andrew, when he came downstairs again, agreed with her.

“Uncle Brian will know what to do,” he said. “But I think before I ask him, I shall just ride round to the nearest villages to see if I can discover any information that will help us.”

Whether he discovered anything or not, Jessica had no way of knowing, for he did not return that day to Gordon Hall. The stranger slept most of the afternoon and was still asleep that evening when Borthwick announced Sir Brian.

They had gathered, as was their custom, in the first-floor drawing room after supper. Lord Gordon sat near the cheerful little fire, a glass of port and a branch of working candles on the low parquetry table beside him and the ever-present stack of estate papers in his lap. Lady Gordon, in a chair on the opposite side of the parquetry table from her husband, worked diligently at her tapestry frame, chatting all the while with her sister, who was attempting to convince a square of cardboard, a pile of gaily colored ribbons, and some yellow netting that they ought somehow to form themselves into the exact sort of elegant reticule pictured in the copy of
La Belle Assemblée
that rested upon the settee beside her. The instructions which accompanied the drawing in the fashionable magazine repeated from time to time the assurance that the pattern in question was simple enough to enable the most inexperienced hand to achieve excellent results. So far Miss Sutton-Drew had failed to achieve anything remotely resembling the exquisite drawing. She looked up with undisguised relief when Borthwick announced Sir Brian.

That gentleman had condescended to honor them by wearing evening attire instead of his usual riding dress, and he looked more precise than Jessica had yet seen him, in black trousers and coat, well-polished half-boots, a white shirt, and embroidered waistcoat. He was not dressed nearly so fashionably as Lord Gordon, who sported padded shoulders and a wasp waist to his dark blue coat, worn over yellow cossack trousers that, in Jessica’s opinion, merely gave his lordship the unfortunate appearance of a plump toby jug. By comparison, Sir Brian’s height and regal carriage gave him an air of elegance that no tailor would ever achieve for Lord Gordon.

The dark brown eyes met hers immediately, and the tall broad-shouldered gentleman smiled. It fascinated her to watch the way the smile lit his eyes as well as his face. In repose his strong features looked almost harsh, but when he smiled, they softened dramatically. Feeling a glow of gentle warmth, Jessica smiled back, little realizing that her own countenance altered nearly as much as his, making her look younger and more vulnerable, while adding a gentleness to her features that was otherwise concealed by her air of dignity.

Lord Gordon set aside his papers and took snuff. “Welcome,” he said, carefully dusting his sleeve. “I daresay you’ve heard all about our latest excitement. To be sure, you must have done, for young Andrew was no doubt full of his discovery when he returned to Shaldon Park.”

“He was,” replied Sir Brian. “Good evening, Lady Gordon. I trust my nephew’s imposition upon your good nature has caused no serious problems.”

“No, indeed, sir,” she answered, blushing a little. “How could she, when she has scarcely wakened since Mrs. Borthwick tucked her up in bed? Do sit down, sir. Cyril, pour out a glass of port for Sir Brian.”

“You relieve my mind considerably, ma’am,” Sir Brian said, accepting the glass offered by his lordship and taking a seat on the settee next to Jessica, grinning at her when she scrambled in a most undignified fashion to clear away the magazine as well as the odd bits and pieces of her project to make room for him.

“Were you concerned about our young stranger?” his lordship inquired, frowning a little at his sister-in-law. “I cannot think why you should be. Pretty young thing.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Sir Brian replied, smiling slightly at him. “You would be well advised to place a guard at her door, however.”

“A guard! Well, upon my word, sir. Surely you don’t think that poor young thing is in any danger?”

Lady Gordon’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, dear,” she murmured.

“Nothing of the sort,” Sir Brian said. “It is rather the reverse, I fear. You know nothing of her antecedents, after all. This may be no more than a rather complex ploy with your silver as the target, ma’am.”

“Oh, surely not,” protested her ladyship. “Why, you haven’t seen her, sir. She cannot be more than eighteen at the most. And so innocent and helpless. Why, she does not even speak English. Mrs. Borthwick quite despaired of being able to communicate with her, though she did somehow manage to elicit the information that the poor child’s name is Kara—Kara Boo is what Mrs. Borthwick thought she said, though we cannot help but think that a trifle unlikely. I believe most of their communication is accomplished through the use of hand signals, you know.”

“No doubt.” Sir Brian’s tone was dry, and he turned to Jessica. “What do you think of the refugee, Miss Sutton-Drew?”

“So far I have no reason to form any judgment at all, sir,” Jessica returned primly.

“I doubt that would stop you,” he murmured in an undertone, his eyes dancing. “Will you ride with me tomorrow?”

Color flooded her cheeks, but as Lord Gordon chose that particular moment to demand to know what Sir Brian would advise him to do in the situation, she was spared the necessity of an immediate reply.

“I should do what I could to discover more about her origins,” Sir Brian told his lordship. “And I should certainly do whatever was necessary to protect my own, in the event that your Kara is a thief or worse.”

Lord Gordon tut-tutted and Lady Gordon protested that she could not imagine that the poor young thing upstairs might be a danger to anyone. During the ensuing conversation Jessica was able to compose herself, so that by the time Sir Brian arose to take his departure, she had herself well in hand. When he bent near to inform her that he would call for her at ten the following morning, she replied calmly that it would be her pleasure to ride with him.

When he had gone, Lord Gordon commented with a touch of pride that they had been seeing quite a lot of that gentleman of late. “Stroke of luck when young Andrew chose our coach to hold up, what?”

His wife, with a twinkling look at her sister, agreed that it was indeed a stroke of luck and then deftly changed the subject. Jessica, attempting to sort out the tangle of cardboard, ribbons, and netting that she had jumbled together in order to make room for Sir Brian to sit beside her, had no idea what to think. All she knew in that moment was that she was looking forward with more than ordinary pleasurable anticipation to riding with him the following morning.

Accordingly, she was dressed in her lavender riding habit and ready to go long before the appointed hour, so when Mrs. Borthwick informed her that the young person upstairs would no doubt like to sit for a spell in the garden, Jessica volunteered to accompany her there. The housekeeper brought Kara down immediately, indicating with hand signals that she was to go along with Miss Sutton-Drew. The girl, attired in a serviceable blue gown that no doubt belonged to one of the maidservants, and wearing her hair combed simply back behind her ears to fall in dark brown waves to her slim waist, seemed not in the least averse to accompanying Jessica. Within a few moments they were seated side by side upon a stone bench at one side of the path in the rose garden.

Trying to keep her interest inconspicuous, Jessica casually loosened the jacket of her riding habit and looked Kara over carefully while the girl feasted her eyes upon the beauty of the garden. She was very pretty and, Jessica mused, she scarcely looked like a thief. Still, it seemed odd that she spoke no English at all. And whatever language she did speak was nothing like any Jessica had ever heard. The girl turned and smiled at her, and Jessica smiled back. It occurred to her then that it was exceedingly awkward not being able to converse with her. When she saw Sir Brian descending the terrace steps a moment or so later, she leapt quickly to her feet.

“Good morning, sir,” she called with more enthusiasm than he was accustomed to hearing in her voice. “You are in good time to meet our guest. I cannot introduce you properly, of course, for I do not know her full name, and I must agree with my sister that Mrs. Borthwick’s suggestion seems improbable. As to that, I suppose Kara would be as unable to pronounce your name as she seems to be to say any of ours. Still, you can at least have a look at her and see for yourself how pretty she is.” His understanding smile telling her better than words would have done that she sounded perfectly demented, Jessica gathered her dignity and turned toward the girl, who was watching Sir Brian’s approach with wary interest. “This is Sir Brian Gregory, Kara,” Jessica enunciated carefully, pointing at him.

The girl murmured something, then gave a sad shake of her head, as though the foreign sounds were too much for her unpracticed tongue to imitate. Then, with a regal air that surpassed Sir Brian’s at his most arrogant, she held up her hand to him.

“I believe she expects me to kiss her hand,” he said in an aside to Jessica as he nodded to the girl.

“Or perhaps to kneel before her,” she suggested with a wicked gleam in her eye. He shot her a speaking look, and she chuckled. “She certainly does have an air about her. Even Mrs. Borthwick, though she still refers to her as young Kara, or more simply as ‘that young person,’ treats her with respect to her face.”

“And Borthwick?”

Jessica chuckled again. “Doesn’t pay her any heed at all. She might as well be so much air as far as he is concerned. I cannot recall a single instance when he has referred to her at all.”

“I see.” His expression was serious, but he said nothing else, beyond asking her if she was ready to depart, and Jessica nodded, surprised that he did not see the humor she saw in the situation. She was further surprised when he indicated to Kara that she was to accompany them inside. It would have been more logical, as Jessica saw matters, to have left her to enjoy the warmth of the garden while they followed the path around the house to the stables.

Mrs. Borthwick met them in the hall and took charge of Kara, saying she had some nice broth waiting upstairs for her. Borthwick approached them just then to see if either Sir Brian or Jessica had orders for him, and Jessica watched curiously as Sir Brian took him to one side and spoke quietly with him. She could not overhear their conversation, but she saw grim respect dawning in Borthwick’s eyes as he nodded in reply to something Sir Brian said. A moment later Sir Brian turned back to her.

“Ready?”

She made a face at him. “Hours ago.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he told her, looking down into her eyes, an enigmatic expression in his own.

Instantly, all thought of the strange girl vanished, and Jessica felt only warm and alive and excited about the ride ahead. She could not reach the stables quickly enough, and even the fact that her groom rode close behind them could not spoil the sudden magic of the morning for her.

T
HE RIDE WAS EVERYTHING
Jessica had expected it to be and more. When she put her heels to her mount on a long, straight patch of greensward, Sir Brian responded instantly and with enthusiasm, turning the run into a race and beating her by a horse’s length. She drew up beside him, laughing.

“That was wonderful!”

He grinned at her but said nothing, merely giving his horse its head and moving on at a walk. They rode for some time in companionable silence until they came to a gate. As soon as she saw it, Jessica turned in her saddle and signaled her groom to ride ahead and open it for them. But Sir Brian, giving her a look, waved the lad away and, leaning down from his saddle, swung the gate back easily himself. With a courtly gesture, he indicated that Jessica should precede him, then followed her, leaving the groom to shut the gate behind them.

Strangely, it did not bother Jessica at all to have her order so casually countermanded. Nor did it disturb her independent spirit some moments later as they rode through a shady wood, when Sir Brian insisted that she fasten the jacket of her riding habit despite the fact that she told him she wasn’t the least bit chilly.