A Shadow's Bliss (27 page)

“Don't be a marplot, my pretty!” Green settled himself in the bow, seized an oar and thrust it at the dock, knocking Jonathan's restraining hand away and propelling the boat into the lake.

Jonathan rubbed his wrist and watched tensely, schooling his mind to the fact that this was not the ocean and his dread of water must be ignored if his beloved was at risk.

Others viewed the proceedings through different eyes. A girl said clearly, “This is
so
much more diverting than palemaille, but I do hope poor Miss Britewell can swim!”

A laugh went up.

The elderly beau with the peach said, “Some of you young Bucks will be obliged to rescue the lady, I think.”

Wandering to join the merry crowd, August Falcon enquired, “Why does he wave the oar about?”

Lieutenant Morris explained, “Looking for a breeze, poor fellow. Hi! Green! That's not for a sail. You have to stick it in the water.”

His lordship glared at the hilarious onlookers and succeeded in fitting the oar into the rowlock. He had been conveyed about in a boat from time to time, and although he had never actually taken the oars, he judged rowing to be a simple task requiring nothing more than strength. “No need to be uneasy, m'dear,” he bellowed at his decidedly uneasy shipmate. “And pay no heed to those blasted baboons on the dock. We'll show 'em what it means to make a boat move, eh?”

Show them, he did. One oar dipped too deep, and the other with his considerable strength behind it, sent the rowboat spinning at dizzying speed back whence it had come.

Jennifer dropped her parasol and grasped the sides with both hands.

Shrieks of mirth came from the onlookers. One young Corinthian who delighted to row with the Thames watermen collapsed on the grass and laughed till he cried. Falcon so far forgot himself as to cling, overcome, to James Morris.

Any delight Jonathan may have felt at witnessing the baron's embarrassment was lost in his concern for Jennifer. “Ship your oars!” he shouted.

Seeing the dock whizzing at him, his lordship fortunately had the presence of mind to obey this good advice, and seizing a boathook Jonathan was able to prevent a violent collision. One glance at Jennifer's alarmed face and outstretched arms was sufficient for him to swing down into the boat and reach out for her.

“What the
devil
d'you think you're about?” roared Green, starting up, but sitting down again hurriedly, his fury heightened by the continuing hilarity of the watching crowd. “Get the hell out of this!”

“You will first help me out, Jonathan,” said Jennifer.

Her voice trembled slightly, but the words were cold and authoritative, and in front of so many, even the baron could not dispute her right to give orders to her own coachman.

Holding with one hand to the mooring post, Jonathan steadied the boat and handed Jennifer up to James Morris, who waited, grinning broadly, to assist her. Jonathan turned to Green and enquired, “Are you finished, my lord?”

“Not with you,” muttered his lordship vengefully. Turning his angry gaze to Jennifer, who was being consoled by the giggling ladies, he shouted, “Think I cannot row this tub, do you? Watch!”

Standing amidships, Jonathan knew what he should say, but he succumbed to the gleeful voice of temptation, sprang nimbly onto the dock then gave the boat an obliging shove.

Green leaned into his oars. On this try he performed more creditably, but with Jennifer gone and all the weight in the bow, the result was inevitable. Momentarily unaware of the cause for the renewed shrieks of laughter, his lordship was nothing if not determined. He pulled mightily, but instead of slicing through the water, the boat appeared about to leave it. Before his goggling eyes, the stern lifted high and higher. Correspondingly, the bow dipped. With a yowl of rage, the baron jumped to his feet, the violent jolt doing nothing to help matters.

It could not really be said that he went down with his ship, but he was an indifferent swimmer. His temper was not improved when some uproarious gentlemen fished him out with the aid of the boathook.

*   *   *

Long before the guests sat down to a light early supper, word of the afternoon boat show had swept the mansion. My lord Green was not popular, and the recounting of his predicament aroused more amusement than sympathy. Hurrying to Jennifer's bedchamber with the white silk under-dress that had required some last minute pressing, Tilly relayed many of the jokes that were being bruited about regarding the “big fish” that had been pulled from the lake. One young gentleman, she advised with many giggles, had sent his friends into whoops by remarking that whatever 'twas, it “had the tail of a whale!”

Standing while Tilly threw the under-dress over her panniers, Jennifer smiled, but she was apprehensive. Hibbard Green's nature was vindictive. He'd not dare take out his rage on her, but it would be very like him to turn on Jonathan. She asked, “Have Sir Vinson and Mr. Howland arrived as yet?”

Tilly slipped the peach silk gown over the under-dress and stood back. “It do look that pretty with the silver 'broidery, miss,” she said admiringly. “Oh dear, if I didn't go and forget to tell you! Sir Vinson and Mr. Howland sent their regrets. They can't come.”

*   *   *

Supper was a glittering occasion. With the possible exception of the host, who looked rather solemn, the guests were in a merry humour. Elaborate ball gowns and richly hued coats created a rainbow of colour around the long table; jewels sparkled, heads were elegantly powdered or bewigged in the very latest fashion. Lord Kenneth's slightly pompous speech, formally honouring his young cousin, was met by applause. When asked for a few words, Lieutenant Morris, wearing regimental evening dress that added considerably to his dignity, spoke with shy brevity and won even more applause. Pleased with themselves and with their company, and further pleased by the achievements of Lord Kenneth's excellent chef, the cream of county society smiled and chattered amiably.

Jennifer was seated between an unassuming middle-aged gentleman and the omnipresent Lord Green. His lordship had recovered his equanimity and appeared not in the least offended when several pointed remarks concerning boating came his way. He joined in the laughter at his expense, and enlightened his companions with a long-winded discourse on boating on the River Thames. Jennifer was sure this was a pose to hide his inner rage, but she was glad to be spared the necessity of conversing with him, and experienced no difficulty in relegating his loud voice and booming laugh to the back of her mind.

She was very sure that no one had expected the reclusive Fleming to come to the ball, but his regrets had been conveyed with proper courtesy. Sir Vinson and Howland, on the other hand, had accepted the invitation and only at the last moment sent their apologies. If any explanation had been offered for this breach of manners, she did not know of it. In answer to her enquiry, Lady Kenneth explained that Sir Vinson had sent a note to the effect that neither he nor Howland was able to come. That so proud a lady would resent such cavalier behaviour was inevitable, and her faint shrug and elevated eyebrows had expressed her feelings.

Embarrassed, Jennifer was under no illusions about her parent. Sir Vinson's good looks and charming manners masked a strong tendency to selfishness. He would be the kindest and most affectionate of fathers until some problem arose, whereupon he was suddenly not to be found, neither knowing nor caring upon whose shoulders the problem fell, so long as his were not the ones so burdened. If backed into a corner and forced to make a decision he had hoped to avoid, he would simply choose the easiest course, regardless of its merits. Should it later became obvious that his judgment had been poor, he would fly into one of his violent rages so that no one dare make any further allusion to the matter. But, whatever his faults, she had never known him to be deliberately rude. Nor would she have believed he would abandon her in so embarrassing a situation as being isolated in the home of friends he had all but insulted. He must know she would be worried, and the fact that he'd not deigned to send her even a brief note of explanation made her fear that something was very wrong.

When the meal ended, the diners drifted into the ballroom, where a small orchestra was already performing some traditional airs. More guests began to arrive. Lord Green wrote down his name on Jennifer's dance card, then made a determined effort to keep it. She twitched it away, remarking airily that her papa did not permit that she dance more than once with any gentleman. His small eyes glittered with annoyance. He said softly, “But I assure you he will not object from now on, m'dear.”

Both look and tone added to her unease. Lieutenant Morris begged a dance, and she gladly surrendered her card. Green's further attempts to monopolize her were thwarted at every turn. As more and more guests swelled the crowd, she was surrounded by eager gentlemen. August Falcon secured a country dance, and when Green glared at him, he eyed the baron up and down using his quizzing glass with devastating effect. “Do I offend, sir?” he drawled. “Ah, no. I see you are already writ in for the Gavotte. Such a lively dance. Of itself … surprising.”

“I think I do not follow you,” growled his lordship menacingly.

“One can but hope,” sighed Falcon, and sauntered off leaving Green so incensed that he lost his place and the merry crowd closed once more around the lady he considered his own.

*   *   *

“The thing is,” explained James Morris, walking with Jonathan beside the lake, “it's dashed fortunate you brought him with you. Gives us an excuse to summon you, as it were.” He held up Duster's cage and peered inside. The gaily coloured lanterns that brightened the grounds around the mansion had not been extended this far, the lake being too exposed to the wind. “Dashed dark,” said Morris. “He
is
in here, ain't he?”

“Yes, I promise you. He doesn't make much noise, and I think the strange surroundings have confused him, rather.”

“D'you think he'll ever talk?”

“I try to teach him, but…, Lieutenant, had you something to say to me?”

“Eh? Oh, Gad, what a clunch I am! The thing is you see, that your mistr—er, your— That is to say, Miss Britewell wants a word with you. No, don't fly into the boughs. Falcon will bring her down when he claims his dance. Have to be careful, though. Old Hibbard's hot after her, and might not take it kindly if he knew she'd come here to meet you.”

“Very true. Has something happened?”

“We're not sure. Green has a habit of losing himself. Disappears y'know. Done it several times, and when he does, be dashed if we can run him to earth. Falcon thinks he's hob-nobbing with another member of the League, so he don't want to leave here for another day or so. And I can't go jauntering off. Guest of honour, y'see.”

“Yes, of course. But—”

“And there's the cousin. M'father's cousin, to be exact. But there you are. Family. And I can't have my family besmirched by anything havey-cavey. Have to make a push to find out who Green's meeting on the sly, and warn the old coz.”

“Yes. But—er, I don't quite see—”

“What all this has to do with you? Well, your lady has taken it into her pretty head to leave, and Falcon wants you to let us know what's to do at the Blue Rose. Try if you can get inside. If you catch a whiff of what they're about, come to us at once. Bring Duster, and we'll say we asked you to fetch him. Oh, almost forgot! August warns you to have a care.” He gave a snort of mirth. “Just like him to send you into the fiery furnace with no shoes and tell you not to burn your feet!”

Jonathan grinned. “I'll do my best to—” The words trailed off and were forgotten, and his heart began to thunder.

Peering at him, the lieutenant shook his head, then proceeded to offer Duster some instruction as he went to join Falcon. “You must talk for your supper, birdwit. Here's a good quotation for you: ‘Drink not the third glass.' Got that? ‘Drink not…'”

Jonathan neither heard him nor saw him go. Jennifer was running to him, arms outstretched. He caught her up, and for a blissful moment held her tight, then began to walk with her along the shore.

“My dear, what is it? With Green lumping about you should not take the chance of meeting me.”

“I know, I know! But—I just had to see you! Johnny, I am so worried! Did Lieutenant Morris tell you that my father and Howland have not come?”

“No. But I heard. Is that what has alarmed you?”

“Yes. Partly. Papa may not always see eye to eye with Lord Kenneth, but to accept an invitation and then refuse to attend is not his way!”

“Nor the way of any gentleman. But I fancy there is some compelling reason for his absence.”

“Yes,” she said anxiously, “that is just what I fear! And that he didn't write to me of it, because he was reluctant to spoil the party for me. You will think me foolish, I know, but I—I dread that he or one of my brothers may have become ill. I know how fanciful that must sound, but— I have such a presentiment of trouble. I must leave at once.”

“Not tonight. 'Tis too dark for safe driving.” He heard her muffled sob, and halted, turning to face her. “What is it that you're not telling me? Has that ruffian been forcing his attentions on you?”

For answer, she clung to him, burying her face against his chest. “He is loathesome. He watches me. And—and he smiles … Oh, it makes my flesh creep!”

Inwardly enraged, he said in a controlled voice, “The man who would not smile at the sight of you, Miss Britewell, must have solid rock between his ears, and granite for a heart!”

“But—it is not that kind of smile, you see. 'Tis a horrible sort of—of
gloating.
Oh, I do so dislike the man!”

He tried to comfort her, pointing out reasonably that she must tell her father if Green became a real nuisance. “You know Sir Vinson would send him packing. That great oaf cannot harm you, Jennifer.”