Her Heart's Captain (13 page)

Every evening, too, was fully engaged. Lady Rowcliffe, Captain Allenby and their hosts were inundated with invitations to receptions and fetes of all sorts as every fashionable hostess of northern Gloucester sought her turn to entertain the famous visitors. Tris expected to see Jenny at each of these affairs, but the girl was present at only one. The occasion was a rout-party given by Mr. and Mrs. Vesey, for which all the gentry of the region for miles around had gathered. During the dancing, he noticed that Jenny was sitting on the sidelines, watching the dancers forming their sets, the broad-shouldered young Boyce standing beside her. He approached them and tried to convince her to stand up with him, but she gave him a frightened look and said she was spoken for.

“Spoken for, ma'am?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Her hand flew up to her throat, where a deep flush was spreading quickly from her chest (enticingly revealed by the
décolletage
of her pretty apricot-colored gown) to her cheeks. “M-Mr. Boyce has already asked me, haven't you, Toby?” she murmured awkwardly.

But Tris had caught sight of the slight movement of her foot as she'd stepped quite deliberately on the young man's toes.

The Boyce lad started in surprise, blinked at her stupidly and then said quickly, “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed,” and the two of them went off together to the dance floor.

But Tris contained his chagrin. He refused to permit himself to be put off by her ridiculous little subterfuge or to become discouraged by the girl's withdrawal. For one thing, it had been quite plain that she'd had no intention of dancing with Boyce until he, Allenby, had come up to her. And Boyce had had no intention of asking her. Therefore they were probably not romantically involved. She'd gone off with Boyce only to avoid what was, to her, a less-pleasing alternative. Tris could see quite clearly that the girl had found a reason to wish to avoid him, and until he could discover what that reason was—and act on that knowledge—he couldn't expect her attitude to change. Meanwhile, he would keep his eyes and ears open … and bide his time.

For Jenny, that first week of Captain Allenby's visit had been a difficult one. In order to avoid attending social gatherings where she knew she'd encounter the captain, she'd had to resort almost daily to little falsehoods—she'd told her mother that she had headaches. By patient arguing, she'd managed to convince her mother to go to all the celebrations without her. (Since Jenny always appeared to be completely recovered by the next morning, she was able to keep her mother from feeling unduly troubled by the state of her daughter's health.) Only for the Vesey rout-party had Jenny been unable to win her mother's permission to remain behind, and
that
occasion, being such a squeeze, produced only one very small encounter with the captain she was so assiduously trying to avoid.

But even without having attended the dinners and parties, Jenny found that the presence of Captain Allenby and his mother in Wyndham was a troublesome distraction. She did her best to ignore their presence by proceeding with her life in her usual fashion. But Robbie and her mother talked of nothing else, which made mealtimes annoying. And even if she wished only to take a stroll, she restrained herself, for with Clement Hail a mere two miles away, who could tell when one might accidentally come upon the captain on the road?

Another distressing effect which the presence of the London visitors had upon her daily routine was the absence of her friend. Andrea had become infatuated with her awe-inspiring, swarthy, seafaring cousin and tried to be in his company as much as possible. And when it wasn't possible (as for example when her “Cousin Tris” was so uncharitable as to go off shooting with the men), she was too busy preparing her wardrobe or her hair for her next encounter with him to find time for Jenny.

Therefore it gave Jenny particular delight, one sunny morning at half-past ten (just one week to the day after the arrival of the London visitors), to learn from Cullum that Miss Andrea Clement had called and was awaiting her in the downstairs sitting room. Jenny dashed down and embraced her friend with such enthusiasm that one would have thought four months rather than four days had separated them. “Andrea, my dear, what a gratifying surprise! How did you manage to tear yourself away from your guests?”

“Well, you see, Cousin Tris has gone off to spend the day with a retired admiral under whom he once served, who's settled somewhere in this vicinity. And Aunt Dulcie's been invited to Mrs. Welker's for luncheon, as you know. So I have the day completely free.”

“I'm
so
glad. It's been much too quiet and inactive here without your company.”

“Then you'll be pleased to learn that I've come to shake you out of your inactivity,” Andrea declared briskly. “Get out your warmest pelisse, for we are going to Cheltenham in Toby's phaeton.”

“
Cheltenham
? That will take
hours
. Why do you want to go there?”

“I need a pair of gloves to wear with my orchid gown—for Mama's ball on Saturday, you know—and there's not a thing to be found here at Marsden's. And since Toby has been ordered to pay a call on his grandmother in Winchcombe (she's ailing, you know, since that injury to her hip), we've decided to join forces for the outing and agreed that you must come, too.”

Jenny eyed her friend with amused suspicion. “And how did you convince Toby to agree to
that
? He certainly can't wish for me to make a third when you've given him this rare opportunity for a
tête-à-tête
.”

“I don't care what he wishes,” Andrea retorted with a toss of her head. “If he wants my company, he must accept my terms.
Do
say you'll come, Jenny! If you don't, I shall have to listen to Toby declare himself again, and you know what a bore that can be. Every time I refuse him, he spends the whole day pouting. I can't bear him when he's in that state. Besides, I have a
thousand
things to tell you.”

“Yes, I'm sure you do.” Jenny, her smile fading, turned away. “And they are all about Captain Allenby, I've no doubt. I don't wish to sound rude about your relatives, Andrea, but you know my feelings on the subject of the captain, and you must understand that I don't wish to discuss him.”

“Really, Jenny, must you poker up every time you hear his name? I'm convinced you're wrong about him. I've been with him every day for a week and find him invariably charming and agreeable.”

“I know you do,” Jenny said, biting her underlip to keep from making a sharp retort. “I've no wish to change your mind on the subject. I just don't want to talk about him.”

“Very well, we won't. If I give you my word on it, will you come?”

“I'd love to, Andrea. I've not been anywhere all week, and the sun looks glorious. But I promised Mama I'd be here this afternoon when Mrs. Elvin comes to fit her new ballgown. She wants my advice about the trimming. And she's also insisting on having her old burgundy velvet cut down for me. If you're going all the way to Cheltenham, we would never return in time—”

“At what time is Mrs. Elvin expected?”

“No later than three, I believe.”

Andrea pursed her pretty lips. She was not the sort who would easily permit anything to interfere with her plans. “Can't you ask your mother to excuse you this once?” she asked petulantly. “Must you always obey her every whim?”

“She might very well excuse me, if I could ask her. But she's already left for Mrs. Welker's, to—”

“To attend the luncheon for Aunt Dulcie,” Andrea finished irritably. “I might have guessed.”

She paced about the room thoughtfully for a moment while Jenny tried to placate her with promises to join her “the very next time.”

But Andrea would not abandon her plans without a struggle. “Wait,” she said, brightening, “I have an idea. What if you came with us only as far as Winchcombe? I expect that old Mrs. Boyce will insist that we stay for a late luncheon (for you know that she doesn't permit visitors to leave her premises before she's filled their stomachs), so we shall have to remain at Winchcombe until two at the very least. That will give us three hours together, which is better than nothing. And then Toby and I can proceed to Cheltenham, while you return home in plenty of time.”

“Oh? And how, pray, am I to get home? Eleven miles on shank's mare?”

“Tell Cullum to have your carriage sent to Winchcombe to pick you up at two o'clock sharp.”

“But Stebbins has taken Mama in the barouche, and heaven only knows
when
they'll return.”

Andrea, remarkably ingenious in finding the means to get her own way, was undaunted. “Then tell Robbie to come for you in the old laudalet.”

“I don't know, Andrea,” Jenny demurred. “It seems a great fuss for nothing—”

“Nothing?” Andrea drew herself up in offense. “Is my company
nothing
to you?”

“Oh, pooh! I was going to say nothing
urgent
. Don't raise a dust, love. You know I would go with you if I could.”

“But you
could
, if you weren't such a mollycoddle.” She put up her chin and stalked to the door. “Where is Robbie? Just leave this to me.”

“Wait, Andrea. Where are you going? Don't disturb him. He hasn't come down yet.”

“Hasn't come down? It's almost
eleven
! I'm going up. I. don't see why that … that sluggard can't be made to do something useful.” And she swept out the door.

“Andrea! You're not going to
wake
him, are you?” Jenny hurried out after her friend, half dismayed and half amused. It was just like Andrea to insist so doggedly on having her own way.

“Of course I'm going to wake him,” Andrea said over her shoulder, marching up the stairs. “He's not the crown prince, after all. He can't have me
beheaded
, can he?”

“But Mama doesn't want him disturbed in the mornings. She says he needs all his rest after having endured such dreadful strain on board his ship.”

Andrea refused even to slacken her stride. “What folderol! He's been home for weeks since then. Besides, Papa says your mother makes too much of that so-called ‘strain' of shipboard life.” She strode down the hall, arms swinging purposefully. “Papa says Robbie is healthy and strong and quite capable of dealing with the sailorly life.”

Yes
, Jenny thought, hurrying after her;
I'd quite agree with you if the sailorly life the boy had to endure was a normal one. But under that monster of a captain …

But aloud she said nothing. There was no point in arguing the matter with Andrea. Her friend would not be receptive to disparaging remarks about the cousin to whom she'd suddenly become so attached.

Andrea had arrived at Robbie's door and was hammering at it. “Robbie,” she clarioned loudly, “
do
get up! It's I, Andrea, and I want to talk to you.”

There was a muffled reply, and after a few minutes the door opened. “Andrea?” he asked bewilderedly, peering out into the hallway. His thick curly hair was disheveled, his eyes bleary and his dressing gown inside-out. “What's the to-do?”

“I want you to promise to take out the laudalet this afternoon and drive to Winchcombe to call for Jenny. Will you do that, please? You're to be at old Mrs. Boyce's cottage at two o'clock. Two o'clock sharp. Is that clear?”

Robbie looked from Andrea to Jenny in utter confusion. “Why? Is somethin' amiss?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“No, but Jenny must be home at three, and this is the only way we can think of to get her back.”

“Tha's why y'
woke
me?” He blinked at them in annoyance. “Can't do it. It'd take an hour to get there an' an hour back. Waste th' entire afternoon.”

Andrea grasped his dressing gown and tried to shake him. “Have you anything better to do, you slugabed, than to look after your sister?”

“Andrea!” Jenny interjected, trying to restrain her friend.

“As a matter of fact,” Robbie said more clearly (having been shaken awake), drawing himself up in a semblance of injured dignity, “I've an engagement for billiards with Timothy Vesey and some of the other fellows this afternoon.”

“When this afternoon?” Andrea persisted.

“I don't know. Threeish.”

“Then you'll be ready for it. If you have any consideration for your sister at all, you'll do it. You can be at Winchcombe
and back
by three.”

Robbie made a face. “Do you really have to go to Winchcombe, Jenny?”

“I don't
have
to, exactly,” she admitted, “but it's such a lovely day, and I haven't had an outing all week …”

He sighed in ungallant acquiescence. “Well, if I must, I suppose … Did you say I should meet you at old Mrs. Boyce's cottage?”

“Yes. You know where it is, don't you?” Jenny asked, smiling at him gratefully.

“I think so. But if I meet you there, Mrs. Boyce'll be bound to see me, and she'll insist that we stay for tea. And then I'll be too late for the billiards.”

“I know what to do,” Andrea suggested, ever able to override objections which threatened to block her plans. “We'll drop Jenny at the crossroad. You know the one I mean—where the Cheltenham road crosses Hailes Abbey Lane. She can meet you there.”

Robbie cast Andrea a look of disgust before he nodded. “Very well. Two o'clock.” And he shut the door in their faces.

Chapter Eleven

A triumphant Andrea hurried Jenny into her pelisse, snatched up her friend's bonnet and muff and pulled her out the door. Jenny, beset with guilty misgivings, nevertheless greeted the waiting Toby with a smile, tied the strings of her bonnet tightly and climbed into the phaeton. Toby tucked a warm lap-robe about the knees of his two passengers, jumped up on the driver's box and started off.