Anita Mills (18 page)

It had been a foolish ploy, and one unworthy of him, and he knew it. But he’d not been able to show to advantage, to court her as he ought. And there had been the presence of Sturbridge to contend with. But it didn’t matter—he’d played the game abominably, and lost. It was his first losing campaign, he realized bitterly.

“Hallo, sir,” Rollo spoke from the doorway. “Is aught amiss? Kit came down as mad as fire, and said if I wouldn’t take her home, she’d walk again.”

“You’d best take her.”

“Are you all right?” the boy asked anxiously. “Look more than a trifle queasy to me.”

The two mixtures churned in Jack’s stomach, reminding him of what she’d done to him. “No, I am going to be thoroughly, completely sick.”

“It ain’t too bad, Red Jack—had it done once to me. Ain’t what a man’d like, of course, but bound to get rid of any poison anywheres in your body. Tell you what—take Kit home and come back to sit with you,” Roland promised him.

“Been hoisted on my own petard,” Jack muttered. “The Bard was wrong—hell hath no fury like a woman bamboozled.”

“What? Oh, collect you mean Kit. She’ll come around, I daresay.”

“No. Underestimated the whole thing—bungled it.” He looked up miserably. “No way to explain.”

“Females is queer creatures. I know—been living with a bunch of ’em since I was in short coats, and I can tell you there ain’t no telling what they’ll let go by. No telling what they won’t, neither,” he added judiciously. “Just got to give her time, that’s all.”

“No. Got to get well and go home.”

“Red Jack Rayne give up the field?” Roland’s voice rose incredulously. “Never! If you’d have thought like that in the war, we’d have never beaten Boney!”

“My dear Rollo,” Jack countered tiredly, “I had help with that.”

“G
AWD
, but he was sick, Kit!”

“Was he now?” Kitty asked mildly. “All I can say is that he is well served for it.”

“Crawford said you must have misunderstood the directions and gave him too much of the stuff.”

“Possibly,” she agreed almost noncommitally.

“Feeling like the devil over everything.”

“I expect he was turned inside out.”

“Dash it, Kit, but that ain’t what I meant! Never saw a man as was so cast down—and that’s the truth of it.”

“Rollo, I don’t care if he was cast into the pits of hell.”

“Kitty!”

“Stuff, Jess!”

Kitty rose angrily and stomped from the room, leaving her cousins to stare after her. “Uh—I’d best see to her,” Jessica mumbled guiltily. “ ’Tis my fault, after all.”

“Your fault? How the devil can it be your fault?” Roland demanded.

“Actually, it was both our faults, Rollo. You told him she was tender-hearted, and I allowed as how if he were helpless, she’d fall in his arms.” As her brother looked at her in dawning horror, she snapped, “Well, how was I to know she’d discover him out?”

“You mean he was bamming her?”

“Of course he was, sapskull! We put our heads together to keep Charles at bay!”

“I say, I don’t—”

“Oh, Rollo, use
your
head for something besides playing soldier!”

“If you are meaning I am a slowtop, I ain’t. Just cannot follow this roundaboutation you are giving me, that’s all.”

“Very well. I don’t want to marry Lord Haverhill—yes, your Red Jack Rayne, Rollo—and he does not wish to wed me.” As he stared incredulously at her, she sighed. “ ’Twas always Charles.”

“You mean Sturbridge wasn’t head over heels for Kitty?”

“Of course not! ’Twas for me—but there was the other Haverhill, as you will recall.”

He digested the story for a moment. “Then it seems to me, Jess Merriman, as you got to set a few things straight. The clunch in this family ain’t me—’tis you.”

“Rollo—”

“And if you start blowing the blubber, I’ll tell Mama— this is your brother, Jess, and I’m proof to your tears,” he declared forcefully. “Save ’em for those as isn’t.”

Her chin set mulishly. “I wasn’t going to cry.”

“See as you don’t. Now, the whole, if you please, and don’t be giving me no Cheltenham tragedy.”

She gulped, then nodded. “Well, I pushed Charles to take Kitty in the first place, because I was not free. And then when I was, Charles was too much the gentleman to cry off, so I thought—”

“So you thought if you was engaged to Red Jack, you’d get Charles? Jess, it don’t make no sense!”

“I don’t want Red Jack Rayne, Rollo! I don’t care if he defeated Boney all by himself! I should hate being married to him—I should hate it!”

“They why the devil did you do it?”

“ ’Twas Old Pennyman—she’s too blind to know what she saw!”

“Dash it, Jess, but you don’t have to yell—I got ears on both sides of my head,” he complained. “Why didn’t you just say she was mistaken?”

“Because Charles acted like he cared! Oh, Rollo!” she cried, flinging herself against his shoulder and bursting into tears.

“Now, damn it, I ain’t Sturbridge or Haverhill,” he muttered, disengaging her hands from his lapels. “And I ain’t got enough coats to ruin one of ’em.” Nonetheless, he patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Come on, Jess—it ain’t that bad—it cannot be.”

“Mama will make me wed the colonel, and Charles will marry Kitty—I know it!” she wailed.

“Cannot make you marry anybody you don’t want,” he murmured soothingly. “But it ain’t right, what you did to Red Jack. Put him in a deuced bad spot, you know.”

“Him? Rollo Merriman, all you care about is your stupid war hero! What about me?”

“If it was me, I’d go to Charles.”

“Obviously, you are not a female, Rollo.”

“No, and damned glad of it, thank you. Why is it that females can never say what they mean to a man? Here you make Sturbridge offer for Kitty in some sort of mistaken notion, then you ain’t got sense enough to tell him you have changed your mind.”

“Charles is a man of honor. I was hoping that Kitty would display a
tendre
for Haverhill and cry off.”

“Well, she didn’t. Hates him now, in fact.”

“Rollo, you
are
a slowtop. Her hat’s been over the windmill ever since she saw him. And I quite understand it, for next to Charles, I do not believe I have ever seen a handsomer man,” she admitted.

“A female don’t purge a man if she wants his attention, Jess. Got to be deuced mad to do it, Uh-oh. Mama,” he uttered in warning.

“I vow I have never been so overset in my life,” Isabella Merriman declared, dropping to the cushioned settee. “What can that vexatious girl have been thinking of? If Charles does not think her positively rude, I am sure I will not know why. And Louise. After Kitty left so precipitously,
she
was like a tabby over spilt cream. Said I ought not to refine too much on the girl’s lack of manners, for she is American—as though that explains the girl’s queer starts!”

“Well, daresay it does,” Rollo said soothingly.

“ ’Twill be all over the neighborhood how she nearly killed Haverhill. I shall not be able to hold my head up before the world, I shan’t.”

“It ain’t that bad, Mama. She just overphysicked him, that’s all. Be kinda funny if it weren’t Red Jack, you know.”

His mother cast a baleful eye over him. “Sometimes, Rollo, I think you are a changeling.”

“Well, if you think we are ruined for it, I say we go away for a while—London or Bath,” he suggested. “Don’t mind going, I suppose, for it don’t look like Red Jack is going to want my company now, anyways.”

“Rollo, ’tis the Season—there will not be a decent address to be had in all of the city,” Jessica reminded him.

“Not to mention that we have no connections there,” his mother added. “I should rather stay home than be a nobody.”

“Got Cousin Margaret, don’t we? Tartar, I own, but she ain’t bad
ton.”

“I have not even written to her in years.”

“Write now. Tell her we got business—need to talk to Papa’s man of affairs anyway, so’s we know how bad this thing with the Funds is. Tell her we ain’t there for the Season precisely, so she don’t need to put herself out.”

“Rollo, nobody goes to London during the Season with the intention of not going to anything,” his sister protested.

“Stay a couple of weeks, take in the opera, Vauxhall, the Mint, and come home,” he responded reasonably. “Nobody here has to know why we went.”

“Oh, Rollo.”

“I don’t know,” Isabella said slowly. “I am so mortified … mortified, Rollo.”

“And it ain’t like Kitty and Jess were going to the Marriage Mart, anyway, for they are betrothed, ain’t they?”

“No.” Jessica’s chin came up as her eyes met her mother’s. “Mama, I am sorry for it, but Lord Haverhill and I are agreed we should not suit.”

For a long moment, Isabella stared at her eldest daughter through narrowed eyes, then she sighed. “Well, after what Catherine did to him, I cannot think he would wish to ally himself with this family anyway.”

“No.”

“Do you think Catherine would go?” she asked suddenly. “I mean, she has not seen London at all, and she has a liking for museums and things.”

“And libraries,” Jessica recalled. “She reads almost every night.”

“Too many demned romances, if you was to ask me,” Roland muttered. “But don’t know why she wouldn’t. Wants to go back to America, you know, and she cannot go if she ain’t got the money. Tell her we mean to inquire about the Funds.”

“We most certainly do. But ’tis the first I have ever heard of her returning to America, Rollo. Females say things they do not mean when they are in disgrace.”

“I’ve got no clothes for London!”

“Get ’em made, Jess.”

“Where? All the modistes will be too busy!”

“Hire a seamstress then. Daresay Cousin Margaret will know of someone.”

“I could not go about in old clothes while I waited,” the girl wailed. “I could not.”

“Fiddle,” her mother said. “Fiddle. It is not as though we shall be invited to any
ton
parties—unless someone notes that Catherine is betrothed to Sturbridge, and then I cannot think—”

“Don’t think she wants Sturbridge, Mama.”

Mrs. Merriman fixed her only son with a look reserved for imbeciles. “Nonsense. Sturbridge is a catch. Jessica, run tell Catherine that we are going to London for a few weeks,” she decided impulsively. “And if she cavils at it, tell her that I am determined. Hopefully, by the time we are returned,

Lord Haverhill will have departed and Charles will have forgotten the embarrassment she has caused.”

“We shall look like the veriest country dowds,” the girl complained.

“The guards at the Mint ain’t going to know it,” Roland retorted. “Go on.”

Jessica found her cousin lying upon her bed, staring at the ceiling. “La, Kitty, but Mama has discovered the best diversion! We shall be going to London!” Without waiting for the older girl to react to the momentous news, Jessica sat down beside her. “Only fancy—we shall have new gowns, and we shall see so many things! Rollo is promised to take us to the Mint and to Vauxhall and—”

“We are in disgrace then,” Kitty observed tonelessly. Rolling over to face Jessica, she sighed. “I don’t belong here, you know.”

“What fustian.”

“Was she very angry with me?”

“Not angry—vexed, perhaps,” Jessica conceded. “And then Rollo proposed that we go to either London or Bath so that we need not see the baron again. Mama agrees ’tis the veriest thing, Kit.”

“I am too old for the Marriage Mart,” Kit said tiredly. “If Aunt Bella thinks—”

“You are forgetting Charles.”

“No, I am crying off. ’Tis up to you to bring him up to scratch, Jess. I am wearied of the business.”

“You are hagged, ’tis all. I daresay ’twill look better in the morning,” her cousin murmured soothingly. “And then we shall think what we shall pack—for the museums and libraries, of course,” she added judiciously.

“Hagged? You have no notion, Jess,” Kitty murmured. “I was frozen and cooked in alternation, while Red Jack Rayne was laughing up his sleeve at me. I shall never forgive him for it.” She exhaled heavily as though she could expel the awful memory. “But I don’t think London is the answer for me.”

“Mama and Roland are going to discover what happened with the Funds, Kit. There is a rumor they are turned around a bit.” Jessica slid off the bed and stood. “You’ll feel more the thing in the morning—I know it. What you need is sleep.”

After she left, Kitty continued to stare at the ceiling. She was in such disgrace that her family had to flee. Everything about Red Jack had been a mistake from the very beginning, and she was heartily sorry for most of it. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, but then she saw his face again. And it seemed his hazel eyes mocked her from beneath that unruly auburn hair. Her heart aching in her breast, she forced herself to rise and undress for bed.

I
SABELLA’S
C
OUSIN
M
ARGARET
, Lady Millhaven, welcomed them on short notice, and after the customary kiss between the two widows, turned to survey Jessica and Kitty critically. It was, Kitty was to fume later, as though they were horses at auction.

“So this is Jessica,” she murmured, walking around the younger girl first. “A pity she had no Season, for she most surely would have taken. Such carriage, such a trim figure. Why is it that she wasn’t brought to town?”

“Er—measles,” Isabella invented hastily. “And then poor Mr. Merriman passed on, and there was mourning, of course.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Hmmmmmm. Nearly impossible, I should suppose.” Turning her attention to Kitty, she observed, “And this is the American cousin, is it not?”

“Yes. But really, Meg, we are not come for the Season—not at all.”

The other woman waved an imperious hand to silence Isabella and continued to study the girl before her. “One could wish you were taller, my dear, for short women are not in fashion this year.”

“I refuse to go on the rack,” Kitty managed through gritted teeth.

“So droll.” Lady Millhaven cocked her head to one side for a moment. “But the face is good, the complexion excellent, and I like the hair. How old is this one?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four! Oh, my! Well, I have heard ’tis done differently in America, but here I am afraid—”

“I am resigned to leading apes in hell, Lady Millhaven.”

“Dash it, but she ain’t
that
long in the tooth!” Rollo protested, taking offense at the woman’s attitude. “Dashed taking little thing, if you was to ask me!”

She turned a frigid face to him. “And this must be Roland. Yes, the name suits him. Young man,” she addressed him coldly, “you will hold your tongue until I am done.”

As he fell into mollified silence, she continued to consider Kitty. “A widower perhaps—or an older gentleman. There is Mr. Threll or Lord Pemberton, I suppose.”

“Pemberton?” Roland howled. “Fellow’s fifty if he’s a day!”

“And she is not in the first blush of youth,” Lady Millhaven retorted.

Isabella, who was also beginning to take umbrage at her cousin’s perceived criticism of her niece, felt it incumbent upon her to set her straight. “We are quite proud of Catherine, for she is promised to Lord Sturbridge. He would think it a pity if she were to grow.”

“Charles Trevor?” Lady Millhaven asked with renewed interest. “You don’t say!”

“Well—” Kitty opened her mouth to deny it, then shut it. For Isabella’s sake, she would try to hold her usually ungovernable tongue.

“Well, if he does not mind that she is so short, I am sure I must not,” Margaret decided. Abruptly, she returned to Isabella. “I attempted to gain an appointment with Madame Cecile, but to no avail, I am afraid. However, there is another emigré, a Madame Francine, who does creditable work, and she is agreed to take a look at them. She will not, of course, do them herself, but she has an assistant who has hopes of gaining custom.”

“Meg, I thought I made myself quite clear in my letter,” Isabella protested. “We are come to see Mr. Merriman’s man of affairs.”

“And the Mint,” Rollo added in support of his mother.

“No one comes to see the Mint this time of year, young man. There is no point in being in London now if one is not to be seen.”

“Meg, I have not the money for a Season,” Isabella told her bluntly.

“Oh, a Season is out of the question, Bella dear, for they are far too old to be presented now. But that does not mean that I shall not contrive to have a small party or two of introduction, after all. And we shall, of course, be seen about a bit.”

“I say, but we ain’t staying overlong,” Roland insisted.

“How old is he, by the by?” she asked Isabella, ignoring him.

“Roland is twenty.”

“Quite old enough to provide escort for unmarried females. One could wish for broader shoulders, but perhaps a good tailor can remedy that. Does he drive?”

“To an inch,” Jessica declared proudly. “And there is nothing wrong with Rollo’s shoulders. The Misses Peavley admire him excessively.”

“They do? Egad.” Then, as Lady Millhaven’s intent sank in, he knew he’d been had. “I say, but I ain’t going to parties and routs! Maybe the opera once, or to see a play—the girls can have their choice of that—but I ain’t about to do the pretty for ’em. Told ’em as I’d take in a few of the sights, but that’s all.”

“Nonsense. You cannot wish your sister to remain unwed, young man. There is nothing worse than a maiden aunt in your household, which is what you will have one day.”

“Really, Margaret, but I cannot think—”

“A few gowns merely. A few drives in the Park. A party here and there. See and be seen, Bella—’tis how it is done.” Lady Millhaven fixed her cousin with a sober gaze. “I should be remiss to do less.”

“But we shall not stay above two weeks,” Isabella protested weakly. “There is not time.”

“Nonsense. Jessica’s future demands the time. And if she returns to Rose Farm without an offer, she has at least gained some town bronze with which to dazzle the country gentlemen.”

“Please, Mama—I should like it, I think,” Jessica coaxed.

“Jess, if you think I—”

“Stuff, Rollo!”

“Then ’tis settled.” Lady Millhaven looked to where Kitty stood silently studying a painting. “Is she always so quiet?”

Roland snorted. “Them that knows her don’t think so.”

Later, as the two girls got into bed, Kitty allowed that she was not about to be paraded around for anyone’s gratification. But Jess snuggled beneath the covers happily. “Just think, Kit!” she crowed. “I shall go home with new gowns, and Charles cannot help but note it.” Then, turning over to face her cousin, she added anxiously, “You did post the note to him, did you not?”

“Yes, I have cried off,” Kitty said wearily. “You can have him. I just could not let the woman think I was too short to get anyone.”

“You aren’t that short, Kit. The French would say merely that you are petite.”

“Which translates into little, Jess. I cannot help it, you know. I was used to pray to grow, but it did not happen.”

“I don’t think Haverhill minded it one bit.”

“I never want to hear that man’s name again, Jess,” her cousin declared emphatically. “Never. And if ’tis discovered that I have the price of passage, I shall go home and forget I ever met him.”

“I sent my note also,” Jessica murmured, adjusting the covers beneath her chin. “So we shall both have to wait.”

“For what?”

“Something to happen. Do you still pray, Kitty?”

“Often. Why?”

“Just wondered. G’night.”