Authors: Hazel Statham
Blushing, she pulled away. "I'm sure I don't know what
you mean"
"I suspect that you do, my dear," he replied, dropping his
voice even lower.
"Edward, Edward," cried Flora imperatively. "Carlton has
come up with the most excellent idea that we remove to
Brighton, now that the London season is closed. Indeed, he's
sent his man of business to secure a property on Marine Parade. Would it not be delightful if we all could go-that is, if
the Earl of Hawley will agree that Jenny and Freddie should
join us, and Estelle has no objection to the move?"
A general babble of agreement ensued, only Flora noticing
that neither Jennifer nor Sinclair added their tones to the general consensus that it was an excellent suggestion. Perry and
Freddie went so far as to declare it a ripping idea, as it would
be their first season at the resort and promised all forms of
hitherto unsampled delights.
Later that evening, when challenged on her thoughts of the
projected scheme, Jenny confided to Flora, as they sat slightly
apart from the others in the drawing room, that she doubted
Hawley would agree to their going.
"Then I shall send Carlton to visit him," Flora assured her.
"He will scarcely refuse his permission when approached in
person, and, when need be, Carlton can have such a persuasive air about him."
"If he can be persuaded, then I would be glad to go," replied
Jenny, smiling. Then, as indifferent as she could make the question, she asked, "Do you think Edward will join us?"
"Who can tell?" replied Flora. "Though I promise to do my
best to ensure that he does. He never had a great liking for
Brighton and its society, but perhaps the thought of a congenial gathering may change his mind." She studied Jennifer for a
moment, then, leaning confidingly close, she asked solicitously, "Has there been a falling-out? There appears a new restraint between you."
"Indeed, I don't know what you mean," cried Jennifer.
"There has been no falling-out, I assure you"
"Then if it's Estelle who concerns you, you may put all
thoughts of a match out of your head."
As Jenny would have given an indignant reply, there appeared to be an animated conversation taking place at the far
side of the room as Estelle attempted to persuade Sinclair to
join her in a duet while Carlton played the piano.
"I have no voice," complained the earl defensively.
"Nonsense. You've the most pleasing baritone when you
choose. I've heard it on several occasions when we were in
Spain," declared Estelle.
"They were campaign songs, hardly suitable for a drawingroom recital," replied Sinclair, nonetheless appearing pleased
by the compliment.
"Then 'tis settled. I know the very piece. Do you know `The
Turtledove'?" she asked Carlton enthusiastically.
"I most certainly do," he replied, taking his seat at the piano and running his hands over the keys.
Taking hold of Sinclair's hand, Estelle pulled him from his
seat to stand beside her at the instrument, holding him there as
he would have pulled away. But as the melody began, he appeared to relax, and soon they were joined together in the
melodious strains of the song.
Their voices appeared to match perfectly, and once the
song ended, the gathering called for an encore.
None seemed aware of the effect the duet had on Jennifer.
Pleading a headache, she quietly left the company, but her
leaving did not go unnoticed. Seeing her departure, Sinclair
had the desire to follow in her wake but, much to his frustra tion, was prevented from following his inclination, as everyone
joined the performers around the piano to add to their tones.
The following morning, having reached a momentous decision during many wakeful hours, Sinclair rose shortly after
dawn and penned a brief note to Jennifer requesting that she
join him in riding out immediately after she had breakfasted.
Folding the missive, he gave it to his valet with the instructions that it be handed to the lady's maid as soon as possible.
However, upon its receipt, and feeling much piqued at the
mode of communication, Jennifer tore it into pieces and returned it from whence it came with the added rejoinder that if
my lord wished to communicate with her, he should do so in
person!
Uttering an oath and disparaging all willful females, as
soon as he'd been assisted into his riding coat, Sinclair strode
along the corridor. Now that his decision had been made, he
was impatient to put it into action, and, oblivious to Croft's
questioning gaze, he rapped none too gently on Jennifer's
apartment door.
As the door was opened by an inquiring maid, he pushed
past her into the sitting room, demanding to see her mistress.
When informed that the lady had breakfasted but was still at
her toilette, he forgot himself enough to demand that she be
told to hurry herself.
There had been no need for the maid to repeat his words to
her mistress, as Jenny had heard them well enough through
the closed door, but she went through the motions of listening
to the message. "You may tell my lord," she replied in only a
slightly calmer tone than his, "that I will be with him directly
and will join him at the stables."
The groom preparing the earl's horse for the projected ride
confided to his companion that he'd never seen the master
appear in such an agitated state. No matter what the cause, he
always managed to keep his temper. Quite unlike the old master, who was likely to throw whatever came to hand at your head if his will was crossed. Indeed, the earl was acting quite
out of character.
Seeing Jennifer approaching across the yard, Sinclair strode
to meet her, but at the sight of her pale countenance, his mood
took a complete turnabout, and he appeared contrite.
"Forgive me, Jenny, for acting so imperatively, but I wanted
to speak to you alone," he said, standing before her. "The
house seems overfull, and we are forever being interrupted.
We never have the opportunity to be private."
"And what purpose would that serve?" asked Jennifer curtly,
refusing to meet his gaze and drawing on her riding gloves.
"Indeed, why should it matter when you've others who would
be only too willing to be private with you?"
"My God, you're jealous!" cried Sinclair, falling back in
amazement.
"Certainly not," she cried hotly. "To be jealous, one needs
to be ... And I am not. Most definitely not"
Sinclair gave a crow of delight, but as he briefly took his
eyes from her, she ran across the yard and, with the aid of the
groom, quickly mounted her waiting horse. Almost before the
earl could realize what she was at, she'd urged the horse to a
canter and headed out toward the park. As he would have taken
his own mount, it sidled and fretted at the leaving of its stablemate so that he was unable to mount immediately, and Jenny
was out of sight before he, too, was able to leave the confines
of the yard.
Seeing her some distance ahead, Sinclair set his mount at a
reckless gallop, ignoring obstacles, intent only on halting her
headlong flight.
He called her name but to no avail as, becoming aware that
he gained on her, she urged her mount to even greater efforts,
the wind taking her breath at the speed they traveled.
Realizing that she did not know the terrain as well as he, Sinclair decided to take a chance and, leaving the pathway, headed
across adjoining fields, attempting to head her off before she
should reach the roadway. The maneuver paid dividends.
She'd slackened her pace somewhat as she entered a heavily wooded area, but as she emerged from the trees and was about
to set out at a gallop once more, she found her way barred as
Sinclair sat patiently waiting across the path. She drew rein
and sat defiantly before him, her face flushed with the exertion
of the ride.
As he said nothing but only sat regarding her with a deal
of amusement in his eyes, she demanded, "Well, Edward
Thurston, what now?"
"Get down," he demanded as he himself dismounted and
tethered his horse to a tree. As she sat mulishly regarding some
point above his head, he repeated his command more forcibly.
"Get down, or do I need fetch you myself?"
That was enough to bring her eyes to his face, but as she
would have given a scathing reply, he strode over and, grasping her about the waist, scooped her from the saddle, standing
her none too gently on the ground before him. He stood holding her tightly to his chest, examining her features as if he saw
them for the first time; then, issuing a groan akin to a sob, he
covered her lips with his own, taking her breath and making it
necessary for her to lean against him.
Suddenly, as if coming to realization, she braced her hands
against his chest, crying against his lips, "No, Edward, no!"
Immediately he released her, but she found she needed his
arm for support.
"You do not love me?" he queried softly, a strange note
sounding in his voice.
"How can I, when you hold another in your heart?" she cried.
"What other?" he demanded hotly. "Who tells you lies?"
"There is no need to prevaricate, Ned. I know."
"Then you know nothing...
"I know of the portrait, the one you carry with you always."
Throwing back his head, he gave a bark of laughter. "And
it's on this you base your accusations? It's on this that you accuse me?"
"It is Estelle's portrait that you carry. Don't tell me to the
contrary, for I will not believe you"
"Will you not, my little love?" he replied, a gentle smile twisting his lips, and, putting his hand into his pocket, he drew
out the portrait and held it out for her inspection.
With great reluctance she took it from his hand, not daring
to lower her eyes from his face for fear of whose likeness she
might see.
"Look," he demanded. "Then you may tell me whom I love."
She examined the portrait, and her eyes filled with tears as
her own face looked back at her from the silver frame.
"Your father gave it to me just before I was dispatched to
Spain," he said softly. "He thought I should have a memento
of you. Little did he know how much I would come to rely on
it. How it only served to increase my love for you.
"Ah, yes" He smiled, seeing the disbelief in her eyes.
"Although I'd seen you on so few occasions, even before our
betrothal I loved you. When our respective sires proposed
the match, I couldn't believe my good fortune."
"I never knew," she whispered.
"How could you, when we were accorded so little time together? I had no opportunity to try to fix your affections. You
were so young and had spent so little time in society, and when
I was posted, the chance was lost."
"Dearest Ned, I had no idea. Your letters gave no indication, and I was desperate for some word of affection from
you, but none came"
"It was so difficult to woo you from such a distance, my
love," he said, smiling, "and I couldn't tell you of the horrors
of war. Your letters were the only normality in my life, and I
clung to them. In their naivete they diverted me from the violence of the battlefield."
"I can't bear to think of what you endured," she cried, putting her arms about him and laying her head on his chest.
"Why didn't you tell me when you returned?"
"How could I?" he scoffed, laying his cheek against her
curls. "How could I expect you to continue with the betrothal?
I wanted to be the man you knew, the one you thought I was,
not the wreck I'd become."
She raised her face to receive his caress. "You are no wreck, my love," she whispered against his neck. "I didn't realize I
loved you until we journeyed to Buxton together and you
treated me like a scrubby schoolboy. You were overbearing,
high-handed, provoking, and you broke my heart. Until then I
wasn't aware of just how dearly I loved you"
"Then why did you refuse me when I offered for you?"
"I thought you only offered out of honor, that you thought
you'd compromised me"
"It was no such thing." He smiled. "Though I must admit, I
did it badly." Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips. "Now
I will ask you that question again, Jen"
"I will consider it." She chuckled, evading his embrace. "I
will give it my honest consideration and give you my answer
in a few days"
"You will ... what?" he cried in disbelief. "No, you won't,
my girl. I will have your answer now, or you will pay the consequence. Will you have me or no?"
She looked at him mischievously, feigning deliberation. "I
must first take into consideration this propensity you have for
keeping portraits of unknown females... "
"Jen . . " he warned, taking a step toward her.
"Very well, dearest Ned, I will have you"
He reached out to her and snatched her to him, kissing her
fiercely until they fell breathlessly apart.
"Damn it, Jen, you terrified me" He chuckled, sinking to
the ground at the base of a tree, a lock of damp hair falling
across his brow, which only served to make him appear all the
more vulnerable. "Forswear, I've never been so frightened in
all my life." He held out his arm that she would join him.
"How was I to know it was my portrait that you carried?"
she cried, spreading wide her riding skirts to sit beside him.
"Edward Thurston, L.
"No, you don't, Jen. You know you don't." He laughed,
pulling her roughly to him.
"Well, perhaps not, Ned," she conceded, making no attempt
to withdraw from his embrace, "but at times I have so wished
to box your ears"
"Then box away, my love"-he laughed-"for 'tis naught
but your way of proving you love me"
"And I do, Ned, most truly I do," she vowed, winding her
arms about his neck and pulling his head down to hers.
As they rode slowly homeward, it was agreed that they
should keep their secret until Sinclair had spoken to Hawley.
"And then we will surprise them all, sweetheart" He smiled.
"It will come as no surprise to Flora," said Jenny. "She has
guessed it all along."