The Battling Bluestocking (19 page)

“Very well,” he returned stiffly. “Then perhaps it would be as well if I said nothing further at all, except to wish you a good day.”

“Perhaps you are right.” Jessica was very much upon her dignity, but she could not help feeling a surge of disappointment that he was giving up so easily. And when he gave an angry bow and wished her a curt good day, the disappointment grew to the point where she nearly called him back. But somehow, stubbornly, she held her tongue.

A moment later the door closed behind him, and tears sprang to the back of her throat, causing an ache that she hadn’t felt since childhood. She couldn’t imagine why his anger should affect her so. Lord knew, no one else’s ever did. She remembered Lord Gordon’s frequent lectures and scolds. Never had they distressed her in the slightest. As a matter of fact, she realized now, she rather looked forward to his bursts of temperament, thinking they added piquance to an otherwise dull relationship. And her parents had scolded her, of course, from time to time over the years. But although such incidents had been unpleasant, they had never made her feel the distressing ache she was feeling now. That sensation had come only at times of deep, emotional crisis, when something happened that she couldn’t bear to discuss with anyone else. Like the time her kitten had been run over by a visitor’s carriage. Or the time her mother had been so ill that no one had expected her to live. Why, then, should that same feeling come to her now?

Telling herself that she was merely overreacting to the various strains of the afternoon, she took some moments to compose her countenance before leaving the saloon. The entry hall was empty at the moment, so deciding that her aunt was most likely to be found in the drawing room, Jessica went upstairs.

Lady Susan was indeed sitting on a green-striped, claw-footed settee between the tall windows in the comfortable drawing room, working at her tapestry frame. She looked up when Jessica entered.

“Oh, there you are, my dear. I suppose you have been discussing today’s events with Sir Brian.” Her eyes twinkled. “I fear he thought we had been a trifle precipitate in our actions this afternoon. Was he at all difficult?”

Jessica sighed at the understatement. “Men,” she said. “They really have a very small understanding of anything beyond their own needs, Aunt Susan.”

“Oh, dear,” Lady Susan said, distressed. “I suppose that means he was difficult. I knew he was a trifle displeased not to have been consulted before you left to make your offer to that dreadful man—did he accept it, by the by?”

“Indeed, he did.” Jessica smiled, remembering. “You won’t credit it, ma’am, but he actually had the effrontery to demand twenty pounds for Jeremy.”

“No!”

“Yes, he did. But I told him what Sir William said about the boy’s injuries and suggested that he might well bring charges against him for causing such harm, and he nearly groveled after that. Tried on all manner of excuses. You should have heard him. But in the end he settled for ten pounds.”

“A tidy profit for him, when all is said and done,” her ladyship stated wryly.

“It is that, but it ought to keep him from causing further difficulty. How is Jeremy?”

“Still a little frightened that Mr. Crick will demand his return, I suspect, though we have all done what we can to reassure him. He will be relieved to know that the man is no longer a threat to him. And do you know, Jessica,” she added, frowning slightly, “it was the oddest thing. When the maid brought him down after his bath, Sir Brian was here and asked the boy some questions about his origins. Got nothing to the purpose, of course. Poor little tyke can scarcely remember anything before that Crick got hold of him. But while he was talking to him, Jeremy noticed Sir Brian’s unicorn signet ring and said his grandpapa had one like it, only with some letter or other carved upon it. Well, Sir Brian was most taken aback, as indeed I was myself, for it’s a shockingly expensive piece of jewelry. I told him about the snow crystal then, and he began asking Jeremy all manner of other questions. The child seems to remember a time in the country, with trees and ponies to ride. Before that, Sir Brian had been trying to get him to tell what part of London he had come from, but it now appears that his family must have brought him here from some village or other and sold him to the sweep. It seems very odd to me.”

The situation was to become odder yet. When Jessica had dressed for the evening, the high point of which was to be a ball hosted by the Count and Countess de Lieven at the Russian embassy, she went to the little room where the boy had been put to bed to tell him good night. A candle had been left by his bed, but despite its warm glow, his face looked pale and fragile as he looked up at her.

“Cor,” he said, drawing the word out in a long breath, “you look sumpin’ like, miss. Like me mum used t’ look of an evenin’. Smell like ’er, too,” he added as she stepped nearer.

Jessica regarded him searchingly. “You remember your mother wearing a gown such as this one, Jeremy?”

“Aye, miss, only not silver, like that ’un. Me mum mostly wore pink. Like an English rose, me dad used t’ say.” He looked surprised. “I jest remembered that bit, I did.”

She patted his tousled head. “You will remember more, I hope. Can you remember any name other than Jeremy? Like Mr. Crick, you know. Most people have got two names.”

But the boy shook his head. “Don’t remember nobody callin’ me nothin’ but Jeremy, miss.”

“How old are you?”

“T’ man arsked me that this afternoon,” the boy told her, “but I dunno, miss. Guess I been wi’ Crick six er seven years, ’n ’e says I were four er five when ’e got me.”

“Merciful heavens, then you must be at least ten or eleven. You look no older than eight, though I did think from your speech that you must be older than that.”

“Guess I am,” he said. “Jest a bit small, like. You goin’ out, miss?”

“Yes, and my aunt will be wondering where I’ve lost myself,” Jessica said with a chuckle. “But I wanted to be certain you were comfortable.”

“Don’ remember ever bein’ this comfortable afore,” he muttered.

“Well, we shall see what can be done to assure that you are not mistreated again, Jeremy. That much I promise you.”

“T’ gennelmun said t’ same thing, miss. I b’lieved ’im.”

“Good.” Jessica felt the odd tightening in her throat again at just the oblique mention of Sir Brian, and left the boy rather quickly, pausing at the head of the stairs to recover her calm.

Lady Susan awaited her in the entry hall. “The carriage is at the door, my dear,” she said, pulling on her long pale pink gloves. She was looking particularly elegant in a gown of mint-green silk with a demi train. Her hair was twisted into an intricate knot at the back of her head, and she wore a becoming little lace cap, which she straightened absent-mindedly as she looked Jessica over from head to toe. “Pinch your cheeks,” she said. “You are looking a trifle pale this evening.”

Jessica obeyed her, but without much hope of putting any bloom into her complexion. She had attempted to do so with her rouge pot before leaving her bedchamber, but Mellin had thrown up her hands in dismay at the result. And indeed, no matter how lightly she applied the stuff, it made her look as though she had spilled paint in daubs upon her cheeks, so she had scrubbed the rouge off again. The scrubbing had created a momentary improvement, but the blush had faded now.

As the carriage approached the embassy on the corner of Dover Street and Hay Hill, Jessica began to tense with anticipation. Andrew had mentioned that he and his uncle had received invitations to the ball. However, they had agreed to dine at St. Erth House, for Sir Warren had been due to arrive that day from Cornwall, and so there had been no plan for them to accompany the ladies from Hanover Square. Jessica wondered now if Sir Brian would even attend the ball.

He was there. She saw him immediately upon entering the magnificent crystal-and-gilt ballroom. Despite the crush of people, it seemed as if her eyes were directed of their own accord to the tall, broad-shouldered gentleman presently leading a dusky-haired damsel through the paces of a country dance. He even, Jessica noted without favor, seemed to be enjoying himself. As if he had never been out of temper in his life.

Following in Lady Susan’s wake, she greeted a friend, stopped to chat with one of her aunt’s acquaintances, and finally made her way to a row of gilt chairs along the far side of the ballroom. Thankfully, she took a seat, but her gaze strayed immediately, albeit as covertly as possible, to the dance floor. There he was again, still partnering that fresh-faced girl with the shining dark tresses. The girl looked up at him just then, her rosy young lips parting slightly, her large wide-spaced eyes alight with enthusiasm. Sir Brian smiled at her, and Jessica’s teeth came together with a distinct snap. Her aunt spoke just then, startling her.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” she said, turning away from the scene. “I fear I was not attending.”

“Oh, it was nothing of consequence,” Lady Susan responded, regarding her with amusement. “I merely commented that these affairs tend to be stuffy.”

“We can take a turn in the garden if you like,” Jessica suggested.

“Perhaps later. I think you ought to enjoy yourself a little first. Oh, dear,” she added with an expression of annoyance, “that despicable Lady Prodmore is headed our way. No doubt she wishes to flaunt that poor little slave of hers under our noses again. If you are wise, you will accept whatever invitation the gentleman bearing down upon us from your left has to offer.”

Jessica turned quickly to see a plumpish young man whom she had met at another such affair coming her way, with Lady Prodmore in full sail right behind him. Trailing behind her ladyship, as usual, came the page, Albert, attired tonight in a purple suit and turban, exactly matching his mistress’s very expensive gown.

The music ended, and the orchestra struck up for a minuet. Jessica and her partner took their places, and if she was a trifle dismayed to see Sir Brian with a new partner taking his place in the same set, she gave no sign of it. This time he was with a slender blond, who wore the simple white muslin gown that betokened a girl in her first Season. She appeared to be exceedingly shy, and Sir Brian had obviously set himself to charm her into relaxing. Jessica found she did not wish to watch the process. Unfortunately it was difficult to avoid looking at them, for her partner was nearly a head shorter than she was, so she could see Sir Brian even when the shorter man passed directly between them. The view was disconcerting, too, for the first time she caught Sir Brian’s eye upon her, he acknowledged her gaze with only the briefest nod, causing her to swallow somewhat harder than usual and look away, but the second time she encountered his glance, she could have sworn that he was amused-by something. At that point, Jessica threw herself into enjoying the rest of the evening and ignoring him. But she could not tell if her attitude was affecting him in the slightest, for he made no attempt to approach her, though she did see him conversing briefly with Lady Susan. He departed some moments after that, and the evening suddenly seemed to become particularly dull. Even Andrew’s invitation to dance a waltz did little to cheer her.

“Are you feeling quite the thing?” he asked as they took to the floor.

“Now, there’s a tactful thing to ask a lady,” she teased, making an effort to recover her poise when she realized she must be behaving like a girl fresh from the schoolroom.

The young man’s face colored slightly, but he refused to be diverted. “You are looking a trifle pale, you know.”

“Yes, my aunt mentioned it earlier.”

“Well, I hope Uncle Brian isn’t responsible. He certainly seemed out of sorts when you and I returned to Hanover Square from Cheapside. I don’t mind telling you, ma’am, I was in a quake of fear when I left you. Expected to have a real peal rung over me when he returned to Charles Street.”

“Well, if he said half the things to you that he said to me, your expectations were certainly met,” she said, grimacing at the memory his words brought to mind.

“Well, that’s just it. Scarcely said a word. Just that I ought to have had better sense than to go trotting all over London with…well, with you, I suppose.”

“With whom, Andrew?”

His color deepened even more. “Well…” He took the plunge with a rush. “‘With a flea-brained female’ was what he said.”

“I see. Well, if that was all he said, I suppose I must be grateful. He called me a good many worse things to my face.”

Andrew nodded wisely, as if he had expected to hear as much. “I could tell he was in a thundering rage when we first saw him. Guess you dashed well bore the brunt of it, though. Could have knocked me over with a feather when, instead of tearing a strip off me as I’d expected, he apologized for ‘humiliating’ me, as he called it, in Cornwall. Couldn’t think what he meant, at first.”

Jessica’s eyes opened wide. “He apologized?”

Andrew nodded. “Never known him to do such a thing before. Can’t say I wasn’t dashed blue-deviled over that princess business, but I never thought he had the least notion of it.”

“I daresay it may have risen out of something I said to him,” Jessica said slowly.

“Very likely.” Andrew showed no disconcertion at the fact that she had discussed his affairs with his uncle. “Must say, he seemed a trifle down pin tonight. Have you spoken with him?”

“No, for he made no attempt to approach me. I daresay he is still furious with me,” Jessica said a little forlornly.

“Oh, I shouldn’t think so,” Andrew replied. “His tempers rarely last long. He’ll come about and no doubt be on your doorstep first thing tomorrow, just as cheerful as though he’d never been out of charity with you at all. Mark my words,” he added confidently. “It will be exactly as I say.”

But Andrew was wrong. Sir Brian did not call in Hanover Square the next day. Or the next. And when Andrew presented himself the day after that to take tea with Lady Susan and her niece, he had to confess that his uncle had left town.

“All he said to me was to mind my manners and keep out of mischief,” the young man told her, laughing. “I’ve not the slightest notion where he went or when he means to return.”