Maggie MacKeever (13 page)

Jynx eyed this rather disgruntled-looking dignitary speculatively. One member of the Ashley household appeared to possess a smattering of common sense. “It isn’t that I
wish
to see Miss Cristin,” she allowed, “but that I think I must. Word has come to my ears that her affairs are in a bit of a tangle.”

“You might say so.” Tomkin was so delighted by the opportunity to carry on a rational conversation that he completely forgot his place. “What with her ladyship stretched out stiff as a corpse on her bed, and Master Innis raving like a lunatic because he’s discovered her ladyship’s bills are to be paid, and Miss Cristin—well! Least said, soonest mended, I always say.”

Miss Lennox did not subscribe to this maxim. “I don’t understand,” she murmured, as they mounted the stair. “Why should Mr. Ashley be angered by the payment of his sister’s debts?”

Within Tomkin’s dignified breast, prudence warred with a love of gossip, and lost. “Because Master Innis would’ve much rather had the money to use for himself, and the thing was fixed so he could not. I might as well tell you, miss, that the bills are to be paid by her ladyship’s most particular friend, and Master Innis has no great love for that gentleman.” Diligent as was Tomkin’s eavesdropping, it had not acquainted him with Miss Lennox’s association with her ladyship’s most particular friend, and he thought it odd that with these happy tidings Miss Lennox should turn pale. “There!” he said solicitously. “I’ve tired you out with my prattle, and I’m sorry for it. If you’ll wait in the drawing room, I’ll fetch Miss Cristin.”

“No!” Miss Lennox, recovered from her shock, had no wish to stem the butler’s flow of confidences. She gestured to a suite of rooms. “Are these the gaming saloons? Will you show them to me? You see, Tomkin, I’ve no notion of how such things are carried on.”

Tomkin wasn’t at all reluctant to further a young lady’s education, particularly when such philanthropy postponed the detested moment when he must go and deal with the mountain of dirty dishes that filled the kitchen sink. He pointed out the apartments where deep basset was played, and whist; he indicated the E.O. table, the stands for the punters’ rouleaux and glasses, and explained how it was the way of E.O. banks to win. When he moved on to a discussion of piquet, and the tendency of luckless gentlemen to hope for a change each rubber, to risk all on the chance of a big coup, which too often eluded them, Miss Lennox deemed it time to interrupt.

“You are devoted to the Ashleys?” she inquired sympathetically. “I feel for you, then! It must be a wearing task, keeping them from going off the deep end.”

Tomkin had long ago given up the luxury of offense at the various uncomplimentary remarks that were made about the Ashleys, most of which were true, and Miss Lennox’s acumen only increased his respect for her native wit. “Needs must when the devil drives,” he uttered gloomily. “I’m mortal afraid to turn my back on any one of them in case of what they may do. I don’t mind admitting, miss, that they have me fretting my guts to fiddlestrings! Just yesterday I had my teeth examined, and was told that I’ve been grinding them in my sleep, and have chipped their edges!”

“You poor, poor man!” Jynx’s sympathy was not spurious; she suspected her own molars might suffer a similar fate. “It is a shame the family is not more considerate of you.”

“Considerate? An Ashley?” Tomkin so far abandoned his dignity as to snort. “Dicked in the nob, the lot of them, and these two are no more than a loose fish and a pea-goose!” He realized the extent of his imprudence, and flushed; “Not that it’s my place to say so, or to be standing here jawing! If you’ll wait half a minute, miss, I’ll bring the young lady to you.”

Miss Lennox watched the butler’s exit, which was hastily accomplished, and with considerable effort restrained her mirth. It was fortunate that she did so; at the doorway, Tomkin turned back. “Since you’re here, miss, which you shouldn’t be, I’ll give you a word of warning as shouldn’t: steer clear of Eleazar Hyde!”

Jynx would have liked to ask a great many more questions, all of which concerned that last-mentioned gentleman, but Tomkin had departed. She wandered to the E.O. table, all merriment gone. Eleazar Hyde, she mused, a man of whom she had not thus far heard one good word said.

Slightly less than half a minute had elapsed when Cristin ran into the room. “Jynx!” she cried, and embraced her friend. “I am glad to see you, but my aunt is ill and I cannot stay.”

Jynx held Cristin at arm’s length and studied her. The girl’s natural gaiety was considerably dimmed, and her blue eyes were dark-shadowed. “What’s wrong with your aunt? Nothing serious, I trust? Child, you look shockingly worn!”

“Aunt Adorée? I don’t know. A seizure of some sort. She keeps drumming her heels against the bed and wailing in the most distracted manner about ten thousand pounds. I can’t make any sense of it.” Cristin’s eyes dropped. “As for myself, there’s nothing you can do about it, Jynx, so you need not even try.”

Though it was not designed to do so, that martyred statement had the effect of inspiring Miss Lennox to make inhuman efforts. She grasped Cristin’s arm, thus aborting an attempt at flight. “Cristin,” she said sternly, “who the deuce is Eleazar Hyde?”

Still, Cristin refused to meet her friend’s gaze. “A friend of my Uncle Innis. Or maybe not really a
friend:
I think Mr. Hyde has some sort of hold over him.” She took a deep breath. “You might as well know, Jynx, that I have told Percy we would not suit. I am to form a connection with Mr. Hyde instead.”

To refuse the handsome Lord Peverell in preference of a depraved-sounding person like Eleazar Hyde was behavior incomprehensible even in an Ashley. Miss Lennox, a plain-spoken soul, said as much. The result of this bluntly expressed opinion was that Cristin flew into a rage.

“I know you think I’m a gudgeon!” declared that damsel, wrenching free of Jynx’s hand. “You believe that I possess the Ashley lack of stability! Well, my understanding may not be great, but it’s greater than Percy’s, and if I make myself agreeable to Mr. Hyde, my uncle may be persuaded to let Percy off the hook.” She met Miss Lennox’s stunned gaze, and shrugged. “Mr. Hyde is heavy company, without a grain of humor, but he will not expect much of me. Besides, I am only Percy’s calf-love, so what does it signify?”

“Moonshine!” exploded Miss Lennox. She was prepared to utter a great many more objections but fate, in the form of the dashing Mr. Ashley, intervened. “Cristin,” he remarked, from the hallway, “your aunt is calling for you.” Cristin’s leave-taking was accomplished in a manner that left little doubt that she held her uncle in a great deal of awe.

Innis contemplated Miss Lennox, who was toying in a dilatory manner with the E.O. table, and watching the gyrations of the little ball, and congratulated himself on the foresight that had kept him from his usual daily pursuits, from a stroll up St. James’s Street, a spot of exercise in the fencing rooms of Gentleman Jackson’s Bond Street boxing saloon, a pleasant hour passed in examination of the latest acquisitions at Tattersall’s. In truth, it had not been so much foresight that had prompted Innis to refrain from the usual pursuits of the gentlemen of fashion that he aped, but an unconquerable fury at his sister’s unprecedented sleight-of-hand. However, to Innis, it was ever the end that was important, not the means.

“You are in high bloom today. Miss Lennox!” He sauntered into the room, noting with approval her simple—and obviously expensive—white muslin pelisse and walking dress. “A sight to brighten the eye of the most jaded gentleman.”

Jynx raised her own sleepy eyes to him. If Innis expected an exchange of compliments—and well Innis might have, for he was a figure of quiet splendor in his coat of green superfine, well-starched shirt collar that brushed his earlobes and framed his chin, pale salmon marcella waistcoat, green kerseymere trousers, and tasseled Hessian boots—his hopes were doomed. “A pretty scoundrel
you
are!” Miss Lennox remarked. “If you did not run up such profuse expenses in the gratification of your caprices and luxuries and silly appetites, you would not have to go about coercing people to your will.”

Innis was a trifle discomfited by this cold remark, which was clearly as much a reflection on his intelligence as on his habits; but Innis was also sublimely confident of his ability to lure the loftiest young lady down off her perch. Therefore, he adopted a disarmingly rueful expression. “Sweet torturer, I thought you had forgiven me.”

“I expect that is your problem.” Jynx didn’t appear the least affected by either contrition or palpable charm. “People have forgiven you all your life, so you think that they are bound to do so, and therefore you are absolved of one offense only to go out and commit another.” She cast him a distinctly quelling glance. “I do not think I wish to engage in conversation with a shocking rake-shame.”

Innis wondered if perhaps he would not have found more congenial company in Bond Street or St. James’s. But that company would not have been half so wealthy, he reminded himself, and persevered. “You wound me,” he murmured, and came even closer. “If that is the way you speak to all the gentlemen who discover in themselves a distinguishing preference for you, my darling, you will soon lose all your
beaux.”

“Excellent!” retorted Jynx. “I’ve already told you I don’t care for
beaux.
We will go on much better, you know, if you spare me your nonsensical vows and professions. I have no taste at all for Spanish coin.”

Nor for him, it seemed, Innis reflected with chagrin. He wished to please Miss Lennox, and not entirely because of her wealth, but in lieu of fulsome praise he did not know what to say. Perhaps she might prefer a man of action to a man of words? He took hold of her shoulders and drew her abruptly into an embrace.

Miss Lennox, however, was no shrinking violet to be cast into confusion by an uninvited caress, nor was she unacquainted with familiarities attempted by reckless gentlemen. Innis attempted to kiss her and she averted her head, so that he found himself in close proximity to her bonnet’s ostrich-plumes; he sneezed and she kicked his shin. Innis swore in a most ungentlemanly manner and released her. Jynx grinned at him. “You can’t say,” she observed, “that you were not warned.”

The situation was nothing short of deflating for a man considered on all sides dangerous. Innis scowled, then noticed how enchanting were her dimples, and then found with some amazement that he was returning her smile. “Witch!” he said, when the pain in his abused leg had subsided enough to permit him to speak. “It seems I must apologize again. I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I assured you that I should pine away of a melancholy if you are not reconciled to me?”

“Don’t sham it so.” Jynx perched in a graceless manner on the E.O. table. “A simple expression of your regret is all that’s required.”

“But I
don’t
regret it, only that you foiled my attempt. Nor do I promise to refrain from trying again.” Innis fancied that control of the situation was again his. “Now, since you are here, would you care to try your luck at the bones? Perhaps play a rubber or two of piquet?”

But Miss Lennox, thanks to the efforts of Tomkin, was forewarned. “I do not gamble,” she reproved, as her gaze traveled around the room. All the same, she wished to speak further with Innis Ashley. “There, sir, is the perfect thing. I will engage in that game with you, if you so wish.”

It was a game of an altogether different nature that Innis had in mind, but his brief association with Miss Lennox had already taught him the wisdom of biding his time. He fetched the board. “You came here alone?” he asked, as he set up the game. She nodded. “And you call
me
imprudent. Miss Lennox?”

“I am supposedly matching some ribbon.” Jynx pulled off her gloves in preparation for play. “There’s none to say that I’m not doing that very thing, even my poor maidservant, whom I gave the slip in the Pantheon Bazaar. And now, sir, since you are a betting man and I would not wish to spoil your pleasure, I will suggest a wager of five pounds on the outcome of this game.”

“You
are
my pleasure, so you can hardly destroy it.” Innis had watched with no small appreciation the serious manner in which she prepared to play. “No matter how you try. Very well, five pounds it shall be.”

And so the game began. Innis quickly discovered that his opponent had no small skill. She also possessed no little guile, for she distracted him at crucial moments with questions that required all his attention. For example: “I understand,” remarked Miss Lennox, “that you have lured Lord Peverell further into debt. Was that an honorable act, Mr. Ashley?” Of course, Innis was forced to defend himself. And: “I also understand,” observed Miss Lennox, as her fingers flew over the board with lightening speed, “that you have encouraged Cristin to turn down Percy’s suit. It seems very foolish to turn aside a prospectively wealthy nephew-in-law when one is persistently in debt.” To this, Innis responded in greater length. Eleazar Hyde, he explained, was a much larger catch than Lord Peverell, and additionally Percy was already deep in his debt. So stirred was Miss Lennox by this admission that she remorselessly cleared all his pieces from the board. “You have underestimated your opponent once again,” she commented, with her lazy smile. “Five pounds, Mr. Ashley.”

Even that small amount hurt his depleted purse, but Innis behaved like a true gentleman and promptly paid the debt. If only, he thought again, he had known of Roxbury’s generous treatment of his sister in time to persuade Adorée to ask for cash. But Roxbury was a damned knowing one, and probably wouldn’t have obliged. Innis glanced at Miss Lennox, who was looking very smug, and experienced a tardy astonishment that anyone should have inveigled him into something so mundane as playing checkers. In confrontations with Miss Lennox, Innis was coming out all too consistently on the losing end. “You have a positive talent for silence, my darling. I wish that you would talk more, for talking makes a woman think less.”

“And you do not wish me to think about your preposterous behavior, lest I conclude that you are definitely not to be trusted, and deplorably frivolous, and that it is altogether displeasing of you to have persuaded Cristin to marry Mr. Hyde to serve your own ends.” Jynx regarded his startled face. “How many times must I tell you that there are no flies on
me,
Mr. Ashley?”