Suddenly Georgiana looked directly at her. Recognition vanquished the flirtatious smile, and with a haughty toss of her head, she looked away again. Polly’s heart sank, for if this was indeed the Gotenuvs’ party, she would definitely be unwelcome in that particular quarter; Maybe in all quarters, for it was clear Hordwell Horditall and his niece would be regarded as the villains of the Pump Room! Discretion got the better part of valor, and Polly decided to withdraw from the tent. Promise or no promise, she wasn’t going to run this particular gauntlet. She turned to leave, but had to pause because another group of guests was entering.
Bodkin had observed Polly’s reaction to Lord Algernon and his love, and sensed the hostility of Georgiana’s glance. In a trice he decided on his first attack. Jumping up, he snatched Polly’s folded parasol from her hand and hurled it at the top of Georgiana’s hat. Like a javelin, it pierced the modish net-swathed headgear and carried it into the heart of the huge raspberry-and-cream jelly that was the buffet’s
piece de resistance.
Georgiana gave a shriek of alarm, and as everyone stared, the jelly collapsed with a loud squish. Georgiana stared at her ruined hat for a moment, then, not knowing that the thrower of the parasol had an accuracy that was quite infallible, and that she had therefore never been in a moment’s danger, she fell hysterically into the marquess’s arms.
Polly was stunned, but then her glance fell upon the group of guests who had just arrived. They were mostly gentlemen who’d ridden from Bath, but among them was none other than Sir Dominic Fortune. Carrying his hat under his arm and dressed in the pine green coat and cream breeches that were
de rigueur
for riding, he was gazing at the jelly with apparently as much surprise as everyone else, but she felt certain he was the one who’d grabbed the parasol. So he wished to be avenged for this morning, did he? Well, she would see about
that!
Her eyes flashed, and she faced him furiously. “How dare you, sirrah!” she cried.
Dominic’s startled gaze swung toward her, for that was the first he’d noticed of her. Then his eyes’ expression darkened as he realized he was being accused. “Are you accusing
me,
madam?”
“I am indeed, for who else would do such a thing?”
The jelly—and Georgiana’s hysterics—suddenly took second place as all eyes swung to the new disturbance at the tent entrance.
Dominic was furious. “I have neither reason nor inclination to perpetrate such a dangerous act. Miss Peach, but since you have already attacked me once today, I presume this is yet another example of your questionable conduct!”
“My
questionable conduct? Sirrah, you seized my parasol and threw it!”
“Oh? And did you see me do it?”
“I did not need to, for you are right here!”
“So are a number of others. Why do you not accuse
them?”
Polly was so upset that she could have struck him. “I do not accuse them because I do not know of any motive they could have, but you, sirrah, have motive enough, as witness
your
conduct this morning! Your interest in a certain lady was so marked that I can only presume when you threw my parasol just now, her escort was your intended target!” The awful accusation was out before she could prevent it, and it was clear that everyone knew of whom she spoke, even though no names had been mentioned. She closed her eyes faintly. She shouldn’t have said it, she really shouldn’t...
Lord Algernon went even more pale, and stared at Dominic as if at the devil himself. Appalled gasps spread through the tent, and Georgiana screeched all me more, stamping her foot like a spoilt child. “Oh, monstrous creature! Monstrous creature!” she sobbed.
Dominic was incensed. “Miss Peach, I find your suggestion most offensive, for you denigrate not only my character, but Lady Georgiana’s as well!”
Polly’s fists were clenched as she stood up to him. “I
didn’t
throw the parasol!”
“Nor
did I!”
As they gazed brightly at each other, both so incandescent with anger that further words failed them both. Bodkin rubbed his hands with glee and gave a low chuckle. Polly heard him, and her lips parted on a gasp of realization. She glanced around, but saw nothing. She still knew he was there, though, and was deeply hurt that he could be so vindictive. She was his friend—she’d even come to Bath to help him, and this was the thanks she got!
Dominic watched her curiously. What was wrong with her? Had she been allowed too soon from a Bedlam? Yes, that increasingly seemed the likelihood! “Are you feeling unwell. Miss Peach?” he asked then.
Her eyes flew guiltily to his face. She’d accused him of a dreadful thing, of which she now knew him to be innocent. What on earth was she going to say to him? “I... I, er...”
She was spared the need to say more because at that moment there came from outside the sound of a resoundingly
feu de joie,
followed by hearty cheers as the Duke and Duchess of York arrived with their entourage. As the regimental band began to play “God Save the King,” the need to see royalty at close hand got the better of the gathering in the tent. The incident with the jelly was forgotten as everyone surged out through the entrance, forcing Polly and Dominic to step hastily out of the way. Lord Algernon dashed out as well, for he had duties to perform in the review, but Georgiana had to remain behind, because it would be a social disaster to appear before royalty without a hat. Sniffing pathetically and dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief, she stared at her once jaunty hat and the devastation of jelly and parasol. Gingerly she reached out, took the parasol between her thumb and first finger, and dropped it contemptuously to the grass. Then she rescued the hat and tried to mop up what she could.
Polly found the jelly of infinitely more interest than Georgiana, for it was shaking most suspiciously, as if someone—or something—were eating it
Bodkin!
Without a second thought she hastened forward, and at her approach Georgiana fled from the tent, not observing Dominic, who had withdrawn into the shadows to watch Polly’s peculiar conduct.
Chapter 12
Polly reached the shivering jelly and whispered urgently. “Bodkin? I know you’re there! Why have you done this?” she hissed angrily, but there was no response.
Dominic heard her low voice, but could not make out what she was saying. All he knew was that she seemed to be addressing the jelly, and his conviction increased that she should be under lock and key.
Polly spoke again, but there was still no answer, even though she
knew
the brownie was there by the way the jelly continued to tremble. Now that she was close she could see small pieces of jelly ‘being grasped by invisible fingers and shoved indecorously into an invisible mouth. Hoping to catch him unaware, she suddenly darted forward, snatching at the air where she knew he would be. She caught his arm, and with a squeal he squirmed so frantically that he wrenched himself free almost immediately.
Dominic’s eyes widened. What on earth was she doing? And why did she squeal like that? Oh, heavens, she was becoming violent!
A whiff of cloves drifted briefly over Polly, then the buffet was knocked in all directions as Bodkin fled along the trestles. She followed, trying to snatch him again. “For heaven’s sake listen to me!” she breathed.
Traitor!” he hissed from the end of the last table, and then jumped down. She saw his footprints on the grass as he ran to the side of the tent.
She called after him a last time, still keeping her voice low, for fear someone might be just outside the tent. “I’m not a traitor, I’m your friend, Bodkin. Please go to Zuder’s. I’ve left a message for you!” But the side of the tent was wrenched up as he wriggled beneath it, then he’d gone.
Knowing there was no point in trying to find him once he was outside, she picked up her parasol from the grass where Georgiana had dropped it, glanced in dismay at the mess of jelly and cream all over it, then turned to leave the tent. She immediately halted in, dismay, for Dominic barred the entrance. His arms were folded, and his eyebrow was raised quizzically, indicating that he was now thoroughly convinced that she belonged in a lunatic asylum.
Polly found it hard to meet his eyes. “Please stand aside, sir.”
“Why have you taken it upon yourself to hound poor Lady Georgiana?” he demanded, thinking that was as good a place as any to commence a probe into her sanity.
“Hound her? I’m not hounding anyone, sir. To be sure, her ladyship is a very silly creature who seems quite capable of all manner of hysterics without any help from me.”
“Miss Peach, you have quite clearly set out to pick on her, and—”
Polly interrupted. “Even if I were, what business would it be of yours? Are you the lady’s husband? Her beau, maybe?”
“I happen to be her very close friend.”
“Clearly not as close as you’d like,” Polly observed with stinging accuracy.
He colored. “Improper remarks seem to flow from your lips, Miss Peach.”
“And ungentlemanly conduct appears to come equally as easily to you! How dare you accuse me of making improper remarks, when your own comments haven’t exactly been agreeable for the past minute or so!”
“When it comes to manners, may I remind you that you not only consigned me to that cursed farmer’s yard yesterday, but you also threw a glass of water over me earlier today!”
“Both actions being the direct result of your rudeness, sir!”
“And I suppose you also threw your parasol at Lady Georgiana because
I
was at fault?” he inquired icily.
“I didn’t throw it.”
“Which presumably means you are about to accuse me again?”
She lowered her glance. “No.”
“Well, that is something, at least.” He searched her face. “In your questionable opinion, who is the guilty party? The Duke of York? The Duchess, maybe? Perhaps you think the man in the moon came down on the off chance?”
Fresh anger sparked in her lavender eyes. “I don’t know who did it, but I
do
know that you are one of the most obnoxious men in England!”
“No, madam, not obnoxious, merely unfortunate for ever having crossed your path!”
“Oh, believe me, I feel unfortunate for the very same reason!”
For a moment they glared at each other, then he glanced at the ruined buffet “Why. were you talking to the jelly?” he demanded. “You do know you were talking to it?”
She was acutely embarrassed. Could she risk telling him the truth? No, for he didn’t seem the sort of person who would ever believe in brownies, and he clearly already thought her to be quite moonstruck.
“I’m awaiting an explanation, Miss Peach.”
“I wasn’t talking to the jelly, sir, but to a small boy, a street urchin, behind the trestles. You probably couldn’t see him, but he was stealing food. I challenged him, and he scrambled under the side of the tent Surely you saw the canvas move?”
“No, I saw nothing.”
“Nevertheless, that is what happened.” She met his gaze without flinching. “Look, Sir Dominic, I’d be grateful never to see you again, and I will dance a jig if I am spared any more of Lady Georgiana’s studied hysterics, so if you will let me pass now, we can forget each other’s existence.”
He hesitated, ran his fingers through his dark hair, and remained where he was. “Miss Peach, street urchin or not, I have to say that I find aspects of your conduct quite disturbing.”
“What exactly are you implying, sir?” she asked stiffly.
He didn’t quite like to go so far as to say he thought she was utterly mad. “Just that maybe you aren’t quite as, er, hale as you might be.”
“Meaning you think I am deranged?”
“Er, no, of course not...”
“Don’t lie, sirrah, for that is
exactly
what you think!” she cried.
His patience snapped. “Very well, yes, that
is
what I think! In fact, I believe you to be the most unhinged creature I have ever encountered!”
“Excepting only Lady Georgiana!” she fired back. “Be honest, sir. The only reason you’re attacking me like this is because you wish to curry favor with the most monstrously insincere female in society!”
“Don’t presume to criticize her!”
“I’ll criticize her if I wish. Sir Dominic.” Polly was becoming increasingly upset by the argument, although he could not have told that from her spirited stance.
He looked away. “I think perhaps we should call a truce, Miss Peach, otherwise this unedifying contretemps will keep us here until the review is over.”
“I asked you to let me pass some time ago, but you would not.”
“So again it is my fault?”
“Yes, on this occasion most definitely.”
He stood aside and swept her a bow. “Then pass, by all means,” he said sarcastically.
She stalked out of the tent without another word, and hurried back to her carriage. Inside, she leaned her head back against the upholstery and closed her eyes. What was it about Sir Dominic Fortune that so set her at sixes and sevens? If she wasn’t furious with him, she was pondering how it might be to surrender to his kisses! She determined to remain in the carriage until the review was well under way before slipping back to Bath, but then she remembered the Gotenuvs. She’d given her word to Uncle Hordwell, and before scurrying away with her tail between her legs, really ought to seek them out, at least for a while. With a sigh, she alighted again.
The review was just commencing. The immaculately turned out cavalry regiment was lined up in readiness, and as the necessary orders were given, the band struck up. Drums and brass thundered to “The British Grenadiers,” and the magnificent cavalcade moved forward to pass before the royal pavilion, where the Duke and Duchess of York and their entourage sipped champagne.
The thirty-seven-year-old second son of King George was splendid in the uniform of commander-in-chief at Horse Guards, the army headquarters in London, with immense plumes streaming from his
chapeau-bras.
The duchess, a German princess, was dressed in blue and white, also with vast plumes, and she carried the ribboned basket of asters that had been presented to her on arrival. She was a small, vivacious, rather eccentric woman who kept over a hundred dogs, which caused so much dissent in the marriage that she and her husband now lived separately. There had been an argument that very morning, but while her face was stony, his bore the vague smile of someone who had started drinking champagne before breakfast. On an occasion like this, it would have become him much more to take the salute properly on a horse, without any sign of champagne within fifty yards, but he was too dissipated and pleasure loving to bother with such niceties. He found the delights of the officers’ mess infinitely preferable to those of the parade ground, much to the overt anger and disapproval of many of the officers present.