Regency Sting (22 page)

“You are thinking of the Cadore letter, I suppose,” Jason said. “I agree that the President has shown a certain leaning toward the French, but I believe he no longer places any trust in the Cadore letter or in Napoleon's pledges. What he truly wishes—as most Americans do—is to preserve American neutrality. But, may I add,
not
at the expense of the freedom of our ships to trade, both with you and with other European nations.”

“Lord Wellesley tells me,” Lord Castlereagh put in, “that the Foreign Office is considering revoking the Orders in Council. By that action, American ships will be free to trade with us, unhampered.”

“I'm delighted to hear it,” Jason said, “but if British ships continue their impressment of American sailors, the revocation of the Orders in Council will not be enough.”

“Impressment?” the Prince asked in annoyance. “I very much dislike that word. Our Navy knows nothing of impressment. If you speak of our right to reclaim British deserters serving on American ships, it is one right the British Navy will
never
surrender.”

“But your highness cannot deny,” Jason persisted, “that many
American
sailors are caught in that net.”

“Then tell your merchant marine not to employ British deserters on their ships!” the Prince declared angrily.

Lord Castlereagh, recognizing the choleric color rising in the Prince's face, tried to attract Jason's attention by coughing warningly. But Jason had warmed to his subject and would not be deterred. “Most Americans would reply to that, your highness,” he went on, “by sayin' that
you
should tell your Navy to pay your sailors a bit more and use the cat-o'-nine-tails a bit less, and you'll have fewer deserters.” A glance at the Prince's face told him that the Prince had little liking for that position. “Oh, well, I see that this point of view will win no likin' in this company. We'd best drop the subject, since we'll not reach agreement. This kind of talk is as useless as a snake makin' love to a buggy whip—nothin' can come of it.”

There was a burst of laughter from the listeners, but it died out quickly as one after the other of the men around the table caught sight of the Prince's face. His color was high, his mouth stretched in an angry grimace and his eyes flashing. The Prince was not amused. It was apparent that Jason had gone too far.

The Prince Regent, infuriated, rose and stood silently at his place for a moment. Then, deliberately turning away from Jason, he said to the others, his accent icy, “Well, gentlemen, shall we join the ladies?”

Seventeen

It was immediately apparent to Harriet and Anne that something had gone wrong. The atmosphere in the music room, when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, was suddenly tense. Jason insisted that they take their leave. Despite Harriet's whispered admonition that a leave-taking so soon after dinner was too abrupt, he herded them to the Prince to say their good-byes. When they made their adieus and murmured their appreciative thanks for the evening's entertainment, the Regent's coldness was unmistakable in the stiffness of his acknowledgment. And when they passed out of the room, the other gentlemen, speaking in low voices to their wives, seemed to avoid meeting their eyes. It was all bewildering and dreadful.

In the carriage, Jason was irritatingly unconcerned. He merely explained that he'd done what Anne had always warned him against—talked too much. Then he leaned back against the squabs and tried to change the subject. But the ladies persisted in their questioning until they eventually drew from him a somewhat clearer account of what had transpired. When the full import of what he'd done burst upon them, Harriet moaned and clutched her breast. “Oh, heavens, we are undone!” she uttered.

“Do you mean to say,” Anne asked, horrified, “that you made disparaging comments about the British
Navy? Good God
! Have you never heard of our defeat of the Armada? Have you never heard of
Trafalgar
!”

“I believe word of those encounters
has
reached America,” Jason responded satirically, “but you should have warned me, ma'am, that the British Navy is so
sacred
. It seems that I've
blasphemed
.

“There, do you
see
!” Anne exploded, turning to her stepmother. “I
told
you that he makes a joke of everything!”

“We must remain calm,” Harriet murmured without conviction.

“The man's
impossible
,” Anne said disgustedly.

“I think, Jason,” Harriet said worriedly, “that Anne is in the right this time. This is no laughing matter, you know. He is the
Regent
. I very much fear that we shall live to regret this night.”

Harriet's fears were more than justified. The door knocker of the Mainwaring house became distressingly unused. The number of callers dropped markedly; the flow of invitations almost ceased entirely (and those that
did
come were not the kind that Harriet wished Jason to accept); the gentlemen who had fawned on Jason at White's were now quite cool; even the eager mamas, who had once pushed their daughters into Jason's path, were suddenly hesitant. Overnight, Jason's life altered.

The entire household became depressed. Orkle remarked in confidence to Coyne that he very much feared his lordship's evening clothes “was goin' to moulder wi' lack o' use.” It had been exciting even to the servants to find Mainwaring House the center of a social whirl. Now the inactivity and gloom were doubly discouraging because of the comparison with the previous exhilaration. Everyone, from Lady Harriet to the lowliest scullery maid, was affected. Only Jason seemed unperturbed. He rode in the park every day, as usual, played chess and took his weekly trips to Jackson's Saloon with Peter, and maintained his accustomed air of untroubled amiability.

In addition to the members of the household, there were two others who remained loyal to the ostracized Viscount. One was Cherry, who followed Anne's lead in almost everything and who therefore spoke up loyally in Jason's defense whenever anyone mentioned his name in her presence. Cherry had been having a difficult time since she'd cut her hair. It was not that her new appearance was in any way detrimental to her social success—on the contrary, her daring new coiffure was much admired and had won her the attentions of two new swains. One was a pudgy-cheeked youth who spoke with a stammer and followed her around like a devoted puppy whenever she sojourned on foot through the park. The other was more impressive—none other than Captain Edward Wray, the cavalry officer who'd been Alexandra de Guis' escort that day in the park. Captain Wray, tired of the high-handed indifference he'd received from Lexie, had turned his eyes to Cherry.

With a persistence that should have been as flattering as it was unexpected, Captain Wray, who was on protracted leave from his regiment while he recovered from a wound he'd received in Spain, spent a good part of his free time in Cherry's company. Tired of the spirited but superficial flirtation he'd endured with Lexie, he found Cherry pretty, sweet and comforting. The sympathetic attention with which she listened to his accounts of his military adventures was alone enough to make him her devoted admirer.

But Cherry's attentiveness to Captain Wray's monologs came more from habit than from her heart. Inside, her feelings were focused elsewhere. For her part, the relationship with Edward Wray had only one thing to recommend it—it helped to keep her mind from dwelling on the events of a certain rainy night, the memory of which filled her with longing and guilt but which she nevertheless could not resist reliving over and over again in her dreams.

The other person who remained loyal to Jason was Lexie herself. It was Cherry who discovered Lord Mainwaring's continued relationship with Lexie and reported it to Anne. “Captain Wray had taken me up in his curricle, and we were tooling about the park when I saw them,” she related. “They were both on horseback, and they were laughing and talking together in a manner which …” Cherry hesitated, trying to find the right words to describe the comfortable intimacy of their demeanor.

“… which is only developed when two people are much in each other's company, is that what you're trying to say?” Anne asked shrewdly.

“Yes, that's it, exactly. I must tell you, Anne, that they were very much absorbed in each other and seemed completely unaware of the number of gossips who were watching and whispering behind their fans.”

Anne listened to Cherry's report with increasing vexation. Jason seemed to be determined to behave in a manner deliberately designed to discompose her spirits. Wasn't he aware that he'd done enough harm to himself and the family by offending the Regent without adding to society's disapprobation by attaching himself to a female whose reputation was no better than it should be? Every time she reviewed Cherry's words, she found herself fuming. She was in a terrible mood, and it was all Jason's fault.

Lying awake at night, she asked herself why Jason's problems should affect
her
so deeply. Even Harriet, who had learned to hold Jason in the highest regard, seemed less affected by his ostracism than she. Harriet had simply cautioned herself to remain calm, had done her breathing exercises and had managed to maintain her serenity. But Anne was somehow deeply disturbed, and Jason's indifference to his situation and his involvement with Lexie made that disturbance even more acute. She began to speak shortly to the family and the servants, her temper flared easily and even her sleep was restless and troubled by disturbing dreams.

The future for the Mainwarings and the Hartleys seemed to her to be very glum indeed. If Jason remained ostracized, the effect would be felt by Lady Harriet and Peter as well. They, too, would be subject to social disapproval and neglect. And it was only logical to assume that, if Jason continued to be ignored by the matchmaking mamas of eligible young ladies, the likelihood of his making an offer to Lexie would become more certain. Poor Mama and Peter would be forced to live in the Mainwaring house under Lexie's dominion—a fate which was beginning to seem an imminent and horrible possibility.

The fact that Anne would be far away from the scene by the time this repugnant possibility should become an actuality was of no comfort at all. Although she tried to tell herself that all this was not really her affair, and that she would soon be living in Shropshire, completely out of touch with and uninformed about the goings-on at home, the thought only seemed to exacerbate her tensions. Could she possibly permit herself to run away, callously leaving behind all familial feelings? Could she embark on a new life, knowing that the family she'd left behind was enmeshed in a coil of problems? Had she no responsibility for their happiness and well-being?

The date of her elopement loomed very near. In just over a week, she would be starting for Gretna Green. If only she could do something to reestablish Jason in society before she left. But the dark hours of the night offered no inspiration, and she eventually fell asleep without having found a practical solution to the problem.

She awoke the next morning heavy-eyed and depressed. Pulling aside the curtains, she discovered that the weather exactly matched her mood. The sky was gray and lowering, and a distant rumble promised the coming of a storm. As if to spite herself, she dressed in a drab, puce-colored muslin round-gown (which she absolutely detested) and made her way to the breakfast room. There she found Jason seated at the table cheerfully sipping a cup of coffee and reading his newspapers. She sat down without speaking a word and reached for the teapot.

“Good morning, my dear,” Jason greeted her with a smile.

She looked at his newspapers in annoyance. “Haven't you had
enough
troublesome news from America? Or are you searching for
new
material with which to offend your friends?” she asked maliciously.

Jason laughed. “Oh, I'm quite capable of inventin' offensive comments without referrin' to my newspapers at all. For example, I might remark that you are not in your best looks this morning.”

She glared at him. “
Offensive
is quite right. It wanted only
that
, my lord, to make my morning complete. If you will be good enough to pass me the jam, I shall refrain from speaking to you further.”

“But I have no wish for you to refrain from speaking,” he said, grinning and handing her the jam pot. “I enjoy listenin' to you, even when you're churlish.”

She did not deign to respond but stirred her tea in silence. With a shrug, he returned to his newspaper. But after a silence of several minutes, during which the only sounds were the rattle of his newspaper and the clink of her spoon against the cup, she could endure it no longer. “I wonder, my lord,” she ventured, “how you can be so cheerful and unconcerned when your position in society has been so seriously injured.”

“But I've told you before,” he explained, putting aside his paper readily, “that I don't care a fig for my position in society.”

She leaned her chin on her hand and surveyed him wonderingly. “Yes, so you have, but I can't quite believe you. You are not a fool—you
must
realize that the rest of your
life
will be adversely affected.”

“My life does
not
depend on the good will of the
ton
, my dear,” he declared firmly.

“But, Jason, it
must
,” she said, leaning forward and speaking with an intensity and sincerity she had not shown since their estrangement. “In your position as a peer of the realm, you must live your life among us. Didn't you enjoy the attentions of society before, when they made so much of you?”

“Yes, I suppose I did. But I knew it was only a temporary phenomenon. I didn't take it seriously. Just as I don't take its loss very seriously either.”

“Temporary phenomenon?
Why
did you assume their good will was only temporary?” Anne asked.