Red Jack's Daughter (23 page)

The fact that she was becoming uncommonly desirabl
e
was, admittedly, often disturbing. But there was nothing new in that. He had known innumerable desirable females
and
yet remained wise enough to sate desire only with those whose state or station precluded marriage. So far as matrimony went, he felt it could continue on is way without him. Lord Leith’s brother may have gotten the title and inheritance, but his own birth as second son, plus the wages he had earned in his years of exile, had given him the freedom to wed where he would. But he would not.

Yet the odd Miss Eastwood most decidedly did not want the services of either husband or lover. In fact, he thought with only a little annoyance, she seemed to dislike any physical contact with him.

The slight sound of his valet tapping upon his door eased his thoughts from their deepening channels. He would, he decided as he absently requested a bath be drawn, look after her interests as a brother should, for he was only trying to secure her happiness in much the same way that he would for any young person he had grown fond of. He decided with relief that he felt it such a paramount, pressing duty only because of the trials he had suffered because his own brother had not so exerted himself for him.

When Sir Selby’s valet, freed for the task by his employer, knocked upon Mr. Preston’s door to offer his services, he was politely told that there was no need for him.

“In fact,” Mr. Preston said, “you know we old army fellows can take care of ourselves. Unless,” he added, giving the man his best white-toothed grin, “we come into a title, of course.”

The valet had accepted the lighthearted answer and taken himself off to the kitchens for some gossip to fill his unexpected free time. It was because of such proclivities that Mr. Preston had disdained his help in the first place. Because, he told himself as he shut the door and went back to the task of dressing himself, it was bad enough to have to watch one’s step every moment without one’s missteps being the subject of idle servants’ banter as well. Although he had come from a good family, there were leagues of differences between a country squire’s establishment and a palatial home such as the one he now found himself within.

He washed and dressed quickly, with a neat economy of motion that left little time wasted. Thus, when he had done
,
and examined himself in the glass for faults and found none, he discovered that he had time to spare. As it would be socially incorrect to lounge about belowstairs as though he were so hungry he could not bear to wait for dinner, he sat in a chair in his room until he judged it would be late enough to make it seem as if he had just recalled the hour. But he did not relax.

There was so much latent energy in his trim frame that he appeared to be poised for some more dire activity than a pleasant country dinner. He was a man of decision and he could scarcely bear to wait to put his most recent decision into action. Events had taken him far in time, place, and mind since he had struck his bargain with the noxious Cribb.
He still planned to wed Jess, he thought with a grim smile, it was only that unexpected impediments had come into play against him. But if he knew anything, it was the maneuverings of war, and if it were to be a battle, he was the man for it.

T
hat Leith disapproved of him was no matter, for Jess herself did not entirely approve of Leith. And it would be the work of a moment to show Jess that she was only a passing interest of the tall gentleman’s, and an obligation rather than an interest at that. No, it was Anton who troubled him
.
For he could not explain that young man’s motives at all. Was it cousinly affection that glued him to Jess’s side, or was it something more? And if something more, why?

It was true that Jess was becoming something quite out of the ordinary in looks, but not even her dearest champion could claim that she had a patch on some of the great Society beauties that a gentleman like Anton had access to. She had none of the graces, wiles, and fascination of those females. She was still in many ways, no matter what the costumes she now affected, more lad than lass. But lass enough for him
,
Tom thought, a rare real smile softening his tight lean face
.

He had few illusions about her gender. He had a need for females, but he fulfilled that need as he would any other appetite. And he would no more refine the next day upon any female he had spent a most enjoyable night with than he would rhapsodize and moon over an excellent roast he had
partaken of the night before. In much the same way that, if no gourmet repast presented itself when he grew hungry, he would devour inferior dishes, he placed no high premium upon any bed companion. He liked to think of himself as a practical man. But he never actually thought of females as a class, as being precisely human. He had little interest in them aside from the bodily pleasures they presented.

But Jess was different. For all her new trappings, he had almost to remind himself at times that she was not just another bright young fellow. She would suit him perfectly. And, he decided, rising now that the twilight shadows were forming, for as an ex-army man the sky was a surer clock for him than any Swiss masterpiece, he would have her. He would no longer sulk or hide when Anton came upon the scene. Upon reflection, it was he himself who held all the cards. He knew her father and the bond that had been forged between them. He knew just how strong that bond could be, and he could remind Jess of it whenever she thought to lapse. And best of all, he thought as he went to join the others, he could do all with a clear conscience. For with all her fortune, he was clearly the best man for her, for hadn’t he been told often enough that he was a man’s man?

Anton von Keller heard the door to the next room open and close, and his valet, from his place by his own half-open door, whispered to tell him that Mr. Preston had gone down to join the others. With a sigh of satisfaction, Anton stood. A glance in the mirror told him that all was well. He had spent the better part of an hour dressing, but it was well worth it. He smiled as he thought of how Jessica would be impressed with his good appearance, and as he had taken care to be the last to arrive before dinner, she could hardly miss noticing. It was odd how she did not sum up a man with her eyes as all the ladies of his acquaintance did. But then, he shrugged, she was English, after all. But only half-English, he reminded himself.

It was very good, he thought as he stepped from his rooms, that she was lovely, a copy of her mother. And even better than she had never lost her heart to anyone. The cold Lord Leith had no interest in her. The anxious Mr. Preston had too much. As Papa had predicted, it had been a worthwhile journey, even if it had taken him from his loved accustomed pastimes. But to have a wife who was the image of Mira! That was well worth any arduous travel. And if she did not as yet acknowledge that link, he would be sure to remind her.

Blood will tell, he told himself as he sauntered down the long stairs, and if it will not, he thought gaily, I shall.

Lady Grantham was well-pleased with dinner. It was a great success. The food, of course, did not matter. But the conversation was sparkling. Alex was at his top form, amusing and gracious. Ollie was clearly enjoying himself. Mr. Preston had come out of his blue dismals and was most congenial. Anton, of course, was a superb dining companion, as usual. But Jessica was transformed by their turnabout. She was in great spirits and looks. It was too bad, Lady Grantham thought as she and Jessica rose to leave the gentlemen to , their port, that such occasions could not be pressed between the leaves of a book, to be taken out and savored in some fashion long after they were over and done.

She smiled at Jessica as they sat in the music room and awaited the others. The girl was blooming, she thought with almost maternal pride. Her countenance was clear and open. Her magnificent hair had been arranged a la Sappho, and its high color exquisitely set off the periwinkle-blue gown she wore. And bless Madame Celeste, but the chit’s high tip-tilted breasts were clearly defined by the clever cut of the gown, which Jessica had put on only because she deemed the neckline high enough for propriety. We’ll get her hitched in spite of herself, Lady Grantham gloated as she tried to turn an unremarkable face to the girl.

“We couldn’t bear to leave the lovelies alone,” Sir Selby chortled as he entered the room, as he always did, bless him, Lady Grantham sighed.

“No, indeed,” Anton echoed, “for this custom of drinking alone when there are delightful ladies by themselves is quite
...
British,” he faltered. “Which is not to say that it is not a very delightful custom,” he went on hastily, “but in my homeland, we should never leave such beauties alone, for fear of losing them.”

“It is a vast place,” Lord Leith said reflectively, “but to my knowledge we have never lost a guest. Some have strayed, to be sure, but none have actually been misplaced.”

“But they could be stolen, it is not so?” Anton said with a great show of slyness, as amid the general laughter he sat down next to Jessica on the divan.

“Not Jess,” Tom said heartily, “for it would take a whole regiment to carry her off if she did not want to go.”

Jessica laughingly agreed and motioned for Tom to come and sit at her other side. Lord Leith stood and chatted with Sir Selby. Lady Grantham was content to relax in a comfortable chair and enjoy the company. But Jessica soon found that her neck was growing strained with having to turn first to Anton and then to Tom. For, though she sat back far enough so that the two gentlemen could converse, neither seemed to have any interest in talking to each other and both tried to keep up separate conversations with her.

As Tom awaited her reply as to plans for riding in the morning, and Anton bent closer to hear what she thought of the weather, Jessica’s gaze chanced to fall upon the pianoforte.

“Oh, Ma’am,” she breathed in a sort of desperation to Lady Grantham, “do you think you could prevail upon Lord Leith to play at the pianoforte? For he is the most excellent musician.”

Lady Grantham raised an eyebrow. “Been showing off, has he? That’s rare, for he usually don’t play for company. He always begs off. Well, what do you say, Alex? Here’s a request you can’t say nay to.”

“But how churlish do you think I am?” her nephew replied, breaking off his conversation. “Of course I shall play upon such a sweet request. But not a solo piece, I’m afraid. I’m far too shy for that. I shall want an accompanist.”

Sir Selby threw out his chest in pleasure, for he was known to have a fine, deep baritone. Anton smiled gaily, as his dulcet tenor was usually in great demand at home. Thomas Preston steeled himself, for although he was accounted to have a fair voice, he knew only music-hall tunes and barracks ballads of the sort that could not be rendered in polite company.

But all three gentlemen drew back in surprise when Lord Leith, seating himself at the piano, said, with a wicked arch smile, “And, of course, if I accede to such a charming request, I shall expect my request to be met with the same good grace. Come, Jessica, and sing for me.”

Lady Grantham frowned. It was very bad Ton for Alex to
corner
the child that way. With her upbringing, it was unlikely that she could sing a note. She noted Thomas Preston’s growing pale about the lips while the other two guests smiled in anticipation. She was about to volunteer to sing herself, although she had been told often enough by those even nearest and dearest that her voice alarmed crows, when she was forestalled by Jessica’s saying, “Of course, my Lord. I am honored.
”

She did not look honored, Lady Grantham thought uneasily. As she rose and strode to the pianoforte, she looked as though she might put paid to Lord Leith’s career not only as a pianist, but as a living man.

As Jessica stood beside the pianoforte she glared at her accompanist. She did not wish to sing, had never sung in company before, in fact. But she knew a challenge when one was issued, and had never turned from one yet. Though she would far rather have supped with the devil than open her mouth to sing in public, she would not cry off as a craven.

“You need not, you know,” her tormentor said in an undervoice. “I was merely teasing you. Let Ollie do the honors. His breast is swollen with stoppered song. Go,” he added kindly, “none will think the worse of you. It was, after all, an ill-mannered jest. Aunt was right, I don’t usually play for company and I expect I was only exacting revenge.
”

But the kindness in his tone signified condescension to Jessica, and she would not back down. “It’s quite all right,” she said with admirable control, “I should like to. I do not know many popular tunes, nor any opera. But,” she said as he was about to release her from the bargain again, “I do know many folk tunes. The music is not written down anywhere that I know of. But if you think you can manage without a music sheet, I should be delighted to sing,” she concluded sweetly.

The tall gentleman bit back a smile and answered humbly, “I can but try.”

The song that Jessica sang, “Fine Flowers in the Valley,” was an old one, about a deceitful woman, a murdered infant, and a wise child. Heavy stuff, indeed, Lady Grantham thought. But Alex had either heard it or in his remarkable fashion learned it quickly enough to provide gentle accompaniment. Yet the surprise was neither in the subject of the piece nor in the piano rendition. It was in Jessica’s voice. It was an intimate breathy voice, soft, throaty, and true. It was not suited to a concert hall, but rather brought to mind the gentle whispering of trees or half-remembered strains hummed at a cradle’s side. Jessica had to sing three roles, and for each her affect subtly changed. Soon her audience was enraptured.

Lady Grantham sat back in contentment. The girl was acquitting herself well. The elder lady looked over toward Ollie to see him beaming with fatherly pride. But she saw Thomas Preston at his side, looking at Jessica with a determined devouring stare. Anton too was gazing at the unknowing singer with a look of such greedy possession that Lady Grantham was startled. She chanced to look to Alex to see what he made of all this, and there surprised such a look upon his face as she had never thought to see, for he was watching Jessica with a peculiarly fond and tender gaze.