The Ice Captain's Daughter (11 page)

Chapter Seven

Bleak House

S
EVERAL
H
ATBOXES
L
AY
O
PEN
on Jillian’s bed, revealing merry bits of colored straw, feathers, and ribbons fashioned into concoctions designed to catch a gentleman’s eye. Jillian sat at her dressing table with one such creation on her hair. She cocked her head to one side as she gazed into the mirror, trying to decide which was the most fetching angle to wear her new three-cornered Marquis hat.

Aunt Letty’s maid tapped on her door. “Excuse me, miss. A Sir James has come to call.”

“Thank you, Alice.” Jillian handed her the Marquis hat. “Could you put this away for me?”

As she descended the stairs to the drawing room, Jillian sought to remember where she’d met a Sir James. Fortunately, she recognized him right away as one of the young men she’d met during her ride on Rotten Row.

“Jillian, Sir James informs me that Miss Watkins has already introduced you,” Aunt Letty said.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Roring.” He gave her a bow.

Jillian returned his bow with a curtsy. She lowered herself into a chair, and he resumed his seat on the horsehair sofa.

“I was just telling Mrs. Marsh how fortuitous it was I should happen to see you both out shopping earlier today,” he said. “My club is on Bond Street.”

“Ah, yes, this morning my aunt took me to one of the best milliners in London. We lunched afterward at the Empress ladies club on Dover Street. I had a lovely time.”

“I’m so glad.”

Sir James spent the next few minutes recommending various merchants and places of interest around town. Exactly fifteen minutes later, he took his leave. Aunt Letty waited to speak until after the front door had closed.

“It seems you’ve made an impression, Jillian. Sir James never would have called upon me if you were not here. Do you like him?”

“He is amiable.” Jillian paused. “Erm…perhaps I should have mentioned before, Sophia and I also met Mr. Logan in the park yesterday.”

“What?”

“Don’t be concerned, Aunt. He and I both behaved as if it was our first introduction.”

“That is not the reason for my surprise. I can’t help but wonder why Mr. Logan would travel to town unless he means to pursue you?”

“I’m certain he will not. Sophia has changed her mind and says she will accept him after all.”

“I would be shocked if he renews his offer to her.”

“She
is
extraordinarily beautiful, Aunt.”

“As are you.”

“That, perhaps, is in the eye of the beholder. And Sophia informs me my connections are insignificant.”

“Her connections are no better than yours…
and
she is a jilt.”

“She says Mr. Logan is a rake.”

“That
is
his reputation, I’ll grant you. But now that I’ve met him, I am not so certain it is accurate.”

“You think not?” A weight lifted from Jillian’s shoulders. “I suppose I
should
reserve judgment then.”

“That would be wise. You cannot rely on Miss Watkins to be wholly disinterested in her assertions about Mr. Logan. She may rightly view you as competition.”

“How silly.”

“Tell Sarah to lay out something pretty for you to wear tonight. We are attending a play at Toole’s Theatre.”

“How marvelous! I look forward to some diverting entertainment.”

“It is not the time to relax, my girl. Make no mistake, until you are engaged, you are on constant display.”

In the lobby of the theatre, Aunt Letty made sure to introduce Jillian to her beautifully dressed friends. They, in turn, introduced her to their sons and daughters.

“Be as pleasant to the girls as you are to the young gentlemen,” whispered Aunt Letty as they were ushered to their seat. “Some of them have eligible brothers.”

Jillian suppressed a smile, but her aunt was perfectly serious. As the farcical comedy unfolded on stage, Aunt Letty tapped on Jillian’s arm with her fan.

“Keep a composed expression. You’re a fool if you believe all opera glasses in use tonight are trained on the actors.”

Although she was startled, Jillian did her best to comply. At the end of the evening, however, her ribs hurt from holding in her mirth. Sophia was not among the theatre patrons, fortunately, but she caught herself scanning the crowds for a certain dark-haired gentleman.
Stop it, Jillian. Mr. Logan will not magically appear everywhere you go.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but wonder if he and Sophia were at a dinner party or dance somewhere together.

Logan walked into Sophia’s drawing room, but he did not sit. He’d barely set his hat upon a table when Sophia glided into the room and shut the door.

“Thank you for coming so promptly,” she said.

He folded his arms across his chest. “I cannot imagine what we have to discuss.”

She quickly closed the distance between them.

“Oh come now, Logan. I was so happy to see you out riding the other day. Weren’t you the least bit glad to see me again?”

“I thought you looked quite well.”

Sophia pouted. “You’re still angry, and I don’t blame you.” Her slender fingers traveled across his shoulder and down the length of his sleeve. “For the sake of Christian charity, can’t we put our differences behind us, and carry on as before?”

He leaned over to pick up his hat.

“Don’t speak to me of Christian charity,
Miss Watkins
. My behavior toward you shall remain civil, as always, but I shall not seek to deepen our relationship beyond that.”

Her face clouded over. “That’s very hard-hearted of you.”

“Be that as it may.” He bowed. “I bid you good evening.”

When he opened the drawing room door abruptly, he discovered Mrs. Watkins listening at the door. She jumped back with a guilty start. If Logan weren’t so annoyed with Sophia, he would have laughed out loud.

“Beg pardon, madam,” he said.

The night air felt refreshing on Logan’s face as he walked away from the Watkinses’ townhouse. When he’d received Sophia’s note begging him to discuss a matter of critical importance earlier, he could not as a gentleman refuse to respond. Although he still found her exceedingly beautiful, to rekindle their romance was not only impossible, but also unpalatable. For him, her beauty was as attractive as poison. Sophia’s touch was unwelcome, and even the fragrance she used seemed noxious to him.
I am completely over her.

Not wishing to be alone, Logan headed to White’s. With no other engagements, he would spend the rest of his evening surrounding by masculine conversation and pursuits.

I shall celebrate my release from Purgatory with a drink.

“Score round one to Sir James,” Nelson said. “I understand he called upon the mysterious Miss Roring today.”

The smoke filled room at White’s was filled with gentlemen at cards, reading newspapers, or nursing after dinner drinks. Logan, Hawkins, and Lord Yardley were engaged in a lively game of Commerce, but they glanced up when Nelson spoke.

“Sir James, you must share what you discovered,” Lord Yardley said.

“And give up my advantage? I think not!” Sir James replied, a smile playing on his lips.

Laughter ensued. Mr. Loach, who’d just settled onto a sofa with a brandy, cleared his throat. “Allow me to enlighten you, Lord Yardley. I just came from Toole’s Theatre, where my wife and I met Miss Roring. She is the niece of Mrs. Leticia Marsh, and is staying with her for the Season.”

“There goes my advantage,” Sir James muttered.

“What was your impression of the young lady, Mr. Loach?” Hawkins asked.

“Miss Roring offered her opinion of the play most decidedly.” Loach paused for dramatic effect. “But were I twenty years younger and unmarried, I would welcome her opinions on anything.”

More laughter.

“I knew her late mother, Miss Katherine Monroe, many years ago. When she began to keep company with Captain Roring, I was quite disappointed,” Loach said. “He was a handsome Norwegian devil who had all the ladies atwitter. I believe he has accumulated a vast fortune importing ice.”

“The Ice Captain is Miss Roring’s father? How intriguing,” Hawkins said.

Lord Yardley frowned. “He’s a merchant?”

“That is an uncharitable characterization. Queen Victoria welcomes him to the palace whenever he sails into Regent’s Canal, and his daughter was presented at court not more than eight weeks ago,” said Loach.

“Her Majesty has grown liberal in her old age,” Nelson said.

Logan bristled. “If Miss Roring is fit to be presented at court, she’s good enough for any gentleman in England.”

A long pause ensued.

“I quite agree,” said Lord Yardley. He raised his glass. “Here’s to the Ice Princess.”

Logan drank the toast before returning to his cards. Although he pretended to be absorbed in the game, the conversation about Miss Roring had been torture. To hear her evaluated and weighed on every level grated upon his nerves.

Perhaps I should pay her a call…just to see how she fares.