Maggie MacKeever (5 page)

Such paradoxes as her brother presented were beyond Lady Bliss’s comprehension. “How will Cristin give you the
entrée?”
she asked, in search of enlightenment.

Innis recalled, belatedly, that he had not meant to show his sister his hand. He wondered vaguely from where she’d learned her scruples, such liabilities being alien to the other members of the Ashley clan. “Cristin knows of my sad plight,” he explained, rather mournfully, “and sympathizes wholeheartedly. A great deal more than you appear to, I must say! She has written to Miss Lennox, and begged her to call on us.”

“I cannot think,” Lady Bliss interrupted doubtfully, “that it is at all proper for Miss Lennox to present herself at this house.”

“If Miss Lennox don’t mind it,” snapped Innis, exacerbated beyond bearing, “why should
you?
This skimble-skamble stuff you’re spouting is the outside of enough! Can it be that you do not
wish
your little family to be happy? Do you not wish to see Cristin happily settled, or me to win my object? It seems not! It seems that you would stand between me and she who holds my heart enthralled, would prevent Cristin from enlivening her dull and dreary days with her dearest friend. Lady Bliss, they call you! Hah!
I
could tell the world that you are completely heartless.”

Thus accused, and most unjustly, Adorée profusely apologized. She claimed herself more than willing to secure her little family’s happiness by whatever means were necessary, and promised even to oblige her brother in the matter of the viscount. Then, exhausted, she dissolved again into tears.

Innis eyed his sodden sister with a fine blend of exasperation and contempt, and approached the brandy decanter. Women were ever contrary creatures, he mused, as he filled a glass; and the most contrary of them all, according to rumor, was the fabulously wealthy Miss Lennox. Innis raised the liquor to the light. He did not think that even the contrary Jessamyn would long withstand the fatal charm of the Ashleys.

Chapter Four

Nor did Lord Peverell think that Miss Lennox would benefit from acquaintance with the feckless Ashleys, though he did not phrase this foreboding so clearly, even to himself. He trailed along behind Miss Lennox, a dazzlingly beautiful young man dressed in the highest kick of fashion: light brown coat, a fifteen-guinea embroidered waistcoat from Guthrie in Cork Street, nankeen pantaloons fastened at the ankle with two brass buttons. His guinea-gold hair was cut in the fashionable Brutus crop; his physique was excellent; his eyes, if a trifle vacant in expression, were a warm shade of brown. “I wish you’d reconsider, Jynx!” he protested, as with brisk and purposeful step Miss Lennox approached a certain red brick dwelling in Portland Place. “If Shannon should find out about this, there’ll be the devil to pay.”

“Fiddlestick.” Jynx surveyed Lord Peverell who, having given strident voice for the past several minutes to his great disapproval of this enterprise, was sadly short of breath. “Don’t tease yourself, Percy! What is Shannon to do, pray? Should he find out about this excursion, you need only explain that you accompanied me of your own accord, to protect me from the consequences of setting forth without so much as a footman in attendance, and thus clear yourself of all blame.”

Lord Peverell doubted that his innocence would be so easily established. Shannon Quinn was a deuced high stickler, and this was a grave indiscretion indeed. Furthermore, Shannon Quinn was of an athletic persuasion, and had a very handy bunch of fives, and a temper that was no less terrifying for its infrequent appearance. “When we were at Eton together,” Percey offered, “Shannon swam the Thames with a live hare in his mouth.”

So little impressed was Miss Lennox with this proof that her fiancé was a gentleman to be reckoned with that she merely cast her friend an amused glance before setting her foot on the red brick stair.

“Damned if I don’t wonder if you’re cast away!” uttered Percy, as Jynx approached the front door. She looked inquiring. “Bosky! Foxed!
You
know, in your cups! Dashed if I can think of any other reason why you should be acting in this huggermugger way. Or,” and his eye lit up hopefully, “maybe it’s all a hum? That’s it, ain’t it, Jynx? You’re bent on hoaxing me! Well, you’ve done a deuced good job of it, and I’ve been properly taken in, so be a good girl, do, and come away!”

“Gammon.” Miss Lennox applied herself forcefully to the door knocker, brass in the form of a lion’s head. “You’re a pudding-heart, Percy!”

Lord Peverell took no exception to this unflattering remark, having heard himself referred to in such wise all his life, and in addition frequently called a handsome moonling. He supposed there must have been some truth in at least the latter, or he would not have been persuaded by Lord Roxbury’s betrothed to call with her upon Lord Roxbury’s all-too-recent inamorata, the consequences of such action being much too dreadful to contemplate. Percy had a rather horrible vision of Lord Roxbury once more plunging into the Thames, this time to violently drown his old friend of Eton days.

Miss Lennox, meanwhile, had stepped back to study the house. “It doesn’t,” she remarked judiciously,
“look
like a den of iniquity.”

“Little do you know!” responded Percy, in the gloomy tone of one who
did
know, and to his cost.

“No.” As ever, Miss Lennox was of good cheer. “But I’ll wager I’ll soon find out!”

The front door swung open to reveal an impeccable individual of superior and suspicious mien. “Truly, we are neither law officers or spies!” Jynx remarked, when the butler exhibited a great reluctance to step aside. “Oh, you silly man, do let us in!”

The butler did so, due not to the young lady’s insistence, but to his belated recognition of the young lady’s companion. “Good day, Lord Peverell,” he unbent sufficiently to say. “May I express our pleasure at seeing you again at Blissington House? The master was remarking just yesterday on your absence.”

“Good day, Tomkin,” Percy replied, very much aware of Miss Lennox’s interest. He was vastly relieved when she was distracted by a flurry in the upper hall.

“Who is it, Tomkin?” A lovely dark-haired lady peered over the railing, then hurried down the stair. “Ah! Not the bailiffs, then!” She grasped Jynx’s hand. “My dear, you
do
have a look of your father! I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”

Miss Lennox studied her hostess, whose dark hair was fastened up behind and fell in light ringlets from the top of her head to her neck. Lady Bliss wore a prodigiously low-cut gown of gray muslin that not only matched her eyes, but was so transparent that it revealed the lines of leg and thigh. “Relieved, ma’am?” inquired Jynx, in her lethargic way. Lord Peverell cast his eyes heavenwards, clearly wishing to disassociate himself from the scene.

“Oh, not that you look like your father, though I’m sure Sir Malcolm is a very presentable man—and so are you, my dear, though not a man, but very presentable all the same—but that you’re not a bailiff! Not that anyone would think you
were
after they’d had a good look at you.” She paused for breath and giggled. “What a pea goose you must think me! My dear, I am Adorée Blissington.”

“So I perceived,” Jynx replied, a trifle drily, and extricated her hand. “Forgive me for bursting in on you in this manner, Lady Blissington, but I wished——”

“I know, and it is very good of you, but I have been thinking about it very seriously, and I have decided you should not!” Lady Bliss frowned, an enchanting exercise, as she tried without success to grasp at logic. “I mean, of course you should see Cristin, for
she
at least is unexceptionable, but no matter what Innis may say I do not believe it proper that you should have come
here.
Not that I am not pleased to meet you, for naturally I am, particularly since I
wouldn’t
have in the ordinary course of things—but still, you’d be much wiser to have refrained.”

“There!” Lord Peverell was delighted to receive assistance from this unexpected quarter, and anxious to prevent Lady Bliss from embarking in her bird-witted manner upon the taboo topic of a certain viscount. “Told you it was a hubble-bubble notion. Deuce take it, Jynx, a gaming house!”

“Precisely.” Lady Bliss had no difficulty following Lord Peverell’s reasoning; his intellectual prowess was no greater than her own. She practically shoved her guests toward the door. “A privilege to make your acquaintance, Miss Lennox, but you’d better leave before further harm is done.”

“Harm, Adorée?” came a masculine drawl from the staircase. Lady Bliss, Jynx noted, turned pale as parchment. “You are being very foolish, dear sister. And Peverell! You’d leave us so soon? But now I remember! Your cousin redeemed your vowels, did he not? In return, I suppose, for your promise to remain at a safe distance from the cards and the dice?” Percy, to Jynx’s surprise, blushed and stammered incoherently. She turned to regard the gentleman who had roused in her companions such stricken response.

He was a very handsome man, she decided, in a very rake-helly way. His gray eyes rested on her with a brooding, knowing expression, and his dark hair tumbled in a studied manner over his brow. He was dressed for riding in a blue coat with brass buttons, breeches, and top boots, and such attire left no doubt that his physique was superb. “Miss Lennox,” he said, as he approached and bent over her hand. “I am more happy than I can say to make your acquaintance. Innis Ashley, at your service, ma’am.”

Innis may have been sincerely happy at this development, but he was the only member of the quartet to greet this development with the least felicity. Lady Bliss, who had taken a sudden liking to Miss Lennox, and who additionally recalled the fate of other young ladies with whom Innis had professed himself enamored, was very much afraid that this latest flight would land them all in the suds; Lord Peverell considered Viscount Roxbury’s probable reaction were he to learn of this, a reaction that would doubtless involve Percy’s head being severed from his neck; and Jynx wished that the dashing Mr. Ashley would not retain such firm possession of her hand. A great lot for the casual embrace, the Ashleys. Then she recalled Lady Bliss’s reckless reputation, and realized the aptness of her errant thought, and smiled.

Innis congratulated himself, considering that smile inspired by his polished address. Lady Bliss, whose conclusions were similar, again frowned. Percy cleared his throat, and shuffled his feet, and suggested timidly that his horses would grow tired of standing.

“Surely,” said Innis, “you cannot be serious! Miss Lennox has not yet spoken with my niece—and that was your purpose in calling, was it not. Miss Lennox? Adorée, take Peverell into the saloon while I speak with our guest.” His glance at Percy was wicked. “You might pass the time with an innocent game of picquet.”

Though Lady Bliss did not like the situation, especially since Miss Lennox’s appearance recalled strongly to mind Sir Malcolm and his gallant if unsuccessful courtship, she knew that to try and interfere with Innis was extremely unwise. Too, Innis claimed to be bewitched by Miss Lennox, and she could not bring herself to throw a spanner in the workings of his romance. But again, Lord Roxbury too had always been gallant. “It is very difficult,” she said aloud, “this knowing what is best for everyone. Come along, Percy!”

Lord Peverell did not in the least wish to leave Miss Lennox alone in the company of a noted profligate, but Innis’s mention of gaming debts had unhappily reminded him that all those debts had not yet been paid. There remained a sum of several hundred pounds which he had not dared mention to his cousin, and that sum was owed to none other than Innis Ashley. He cast an anguished glance at Jynx, as Lady Bliss led him away.

“If you will accompany me?” murmured Innis, and offered Jynx his arm. She allowed him to escort her up the stairs.

Miss Lennox, for all her phlegm, was not an unobservant soul, and Miss Lennox had decided that, in Blissington House, any number of things were afoot. Evidently Percy had fallen into careless ways, and she was unhappy about it; though to be in the clutches of moneylenders was more or less
de rigueur
for a young gentleman, Percy was a nodcock, and could not be expected to extricate himself. Then there was Lady Bliss, who was equally brainless, and who was obviously caught up in a dilemma of some sort. Jynx recalled the incoherent note she had received, and wondered if Cristin’s dilemma and her aunt’s dilemma were one and the same.

Innis glanced down at the silent Miss Lennox, and decided that she had been stricken speechless by his abundant charm. He found her more attractive than he had expected, in her gown of pale green muslin with waggoner’s sleeves, a cottage vest of sarsenet that laced across the bosom—on which his glance lingered appreciatively—and a white gauze hat adorned with tea roses and green foliage. An expensive ensemble, reflected Innis, and perfect for a wealthy and docile young lady. It seemed that this was to be an easier conquest than he’d dreamed.

“You must not think poorly of my sister for running polite gaming rooms,” he remarked as he led Miss Lennox into the drawing room. “Everyone in society gambles, after all. Even ladies of fashion succumb to the fascination of the tables.”

“Staking fortunes and estates on a single throw of the dice?” Jynx seated herself in the uncomfortable cane chair and prepared to divest the dashing Mr. Ashley of his delusions. “Gambling has ruined more men than drink and dissipation combined. I do not approve of it.”

Innis was not so easily daunted; he merely quirked a dark brow. “In England the fashionable vices are gambling and wenching and drunkenness—not pretty vices, I’ll admit, but better than elsewhere. The Turks, for example, prefer smoking opium and practicing sodomy.”

Any other well-brought-up young lady would have, upon being presented with this most improper view, shrieked and swooned away. If he had hoped to shock Miss Lennox out of her languor, however, Mr. Ashley had gravely failed. “You would know about that, I suppose,” she remarked absently, and had the pleasure of seeing him stare. “We have strayed a great distance from the subject of your niece. I would like to see Cristin now, if you please.”