Her Heart's Captain (21 page)

“I'm off to see Jenny,” he confided in an undervoice. “With any luck at all, I shall have good news for you by afternoon.”

Sally rejoined them before anything more could be said. “Cullum has set out a bowl of the loveliest-looking oranges,” she reported, “and Cook has dressed them with little decorations of sugared nuts and raisins. It would be a shame not to eat some. Shall I peel one for you, Tris?”

He looked at her with a twinkle. “What a topsy-turvy household this is, Aunt Sally,” he teased, “where the oranges are dressed and the ladied aren't.”

The “undressed” ladies burst into guffaws, but the gaiety was abruptly stilled by the appearance of Andrea in the doorway. The girl looked like a thundercloud. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes red and darkly circled (as if she hadn't slept at all), and her expression was glowering. She, like the other women, hadn't dressed her hair, and her satin dressing gown was so carelessly tied that her wrinkled nightdress could be seen peeping through the gap. “Why all the merriment?” she inquired crossly, coming into the room without a word of apology for her appearance and surveying the breakfast fare spread out on the buffet with an expression of revulsion.

The trio at the table exchanged questioning looks. “Good morning, love,” her mother said quickly, trying to maintain the cheerful atmosphere that had filled the room before her daughter's appearance. “Shall I peel a fruit for you?”

“No, thank you, Mama. I shall only take coffee.” She sat down at the table and surveyed the company, her eyes stopping on Tris's face. “You are looking very fine, Cousin. Are you going somewhere?”

“I have a call to make, yes,” he answered, taking her cup and pouring for her.

She took the cup from him, keeping her eyes fixed on his face. “A call on Jenny Garvin, I've no doubt.”

Something in her tone and the rudeness of her comment made her mother wince. Andrea's mood was one she recognized and could not like. The portents were not favorable. Her daughter, when crossed in any way, was as likely as not to do something destructive. “Andrea!” she muttered warningly.

But Tris's mood was unaffected by his cousin's sulky manner. “As a matter of fact, that
is
where I'm going,” he answered cheerfully. “How did you guess?”

“It wasn't difficult. You danced only once last night, and that once was with Jenny. I merely put two-and-two together.”

Lady Rowcliffe was studying her niece shrewdly. “My son is sometimes deficient in the social graces, I'm afraid, Andrea. He should certainly have been on the dance floor more than once, and he
certainly
should have stood up with his cousin. You're a clod, Tristram.”

“But my cousin danced every dance, Mama, I assure you,” Tris said, giving his cousin an admiring wink. “The eligibles were lined up six deep for a chance with her. I'm sure she didn't want her elderly cousin to get in the way.”

“Elderly, indeed,” Sally twittered. “But I must agree, Andrea, dearest, that you were much sought-after. She was the belle of the evening, wasn't she, Dulcie? But then she always is.”

“You needn't pour the butter sauce over me, Mama,” Andrea said in irritation. “There were at least three other girls who danced as much as I. And it was Jenny who won the biggest prize of the evening,
didn't
she, Cousin Tris?”

No one could miss the heavy sarcasm of her question. Tris, his expression stiffening, raised his eyebrows coldly. “I don't know what you mean, Cousin Andrea.”

“I think you do. When all the girls in the room were hoping for a chance to dance with you, you gave the chance only to Jenny. It was quite a feather in her cap, you know.”

Lady Rowcliffe leaned back in her chair. “How nice,” she said smoothly, “that Tris was able to do that for the girl. It's time that Wyndham took proper notice of your friend, don't you agree, Andrea, my dear?”

Tris threw his mother a look of admiration. Her remark showed the sophistication of the true diplomat. Without the least strain or hint of criticism, she'd appealed to her niece's better nature and, ignoring the girl's obvious jealousy, reminded her that loyalty to one's friends was a praiseworthy quality.

But Andrea had spent a sleepless night and was in no mood to take the hint. In her view, a ballroom was an
arena
where she and the other unmarried girls competed like gladiators for the acclaim of the onlookers and, in the end, the richest matrimonial prize. In that arena she'd never been bested. Since the age of twelve, when her form had first begun to take on the shape of slim womanhood, she'd been able to turn her wide, hazel eyes on any man she chose and win his immediate admiration. She'd been the undisputed belle of the town ever since, and she had no intention of surrendering first place to anyone—at least not yet. Not until she was an elderly thirty-year-old, safely married to the finest “catch” that Wyndham society offered her. She sometimes wondered, during rare moments of failing self-esteem, if she would do as well in the arena of London society, but certainly here in Wyndham it was
unthinkable
that Andrea Clement could fall into second place before she was even betrothed!

Jenny's unexpected success had left her astounded, confused and enraged. Her response to these unaccustomed emotions was a determination for revenge. “But it's so strange, Aunt Dulcie,” she said, her mouth stretching into a malicious smile, “that my cousin should have singled out
Jenny
for his attentions.”

“Why strange?” Dulcie asked. “Jenny is a lovely girl.”

“Yes, but after all the things she's been saying about Tris—”

Sally, blinking at her daughter in confusion, suddenly froze. Her daughter's ugly intention broke upon her consciousness like an exploding bomb. “Good God!
Andrea
!” she gasped, horror-stricken.

The girl reached for a slice of toast and began to spread jam on it with deliberate casualness. “It's funny that Tris should have been so kind as to single out the
one person
in Wyndham who has consistently maligned him,” she said, ignoring her mother's strangulated breathing. “It strikes me as amusingly paradoxical.”

“
Maligned
him?” Lady Rowcliffe asked, throwing Tris a look of dismay.

“Oh, yes. For months now. Ever since Robbie began to report—”

“
Andrea Clement
, what's come
over
you?” her mother demanded, white-faced. “I can't believe that a daughter of mine would so wantonly reveal … I mean, wantonly repeat … I mean, it's gossip of the most—”

“It's not gossip, Mama,” Andrea said, proceeding heedlessly with her destructive strategem. “Gossip is rumor—unsubstantiated rumor. But I'm talking about things Jenny told me
directly
.”

Sally was on the verge of tears. That her own daughter, on whom she'd lavished all her love and every advantage that money and position could provide, could so viciously hurt the family that had been their intimates for a lifetime was devastating. Couldn't the girl see that, by cutting down Jenny and the rest of the Garvins, she was also hurting herself? Her cousin and her aunt would never respect her again. Was she so lost to reason, so vindictive over Jenny's small triumph, that she would destroy her own reputation in order to punish her friend? “Andrea,” she ordered, her voice shaking, “
leave this room at once
!”

“No, Sally, let her be,” Dulcie said with soft-voiced authority. “I want to know how Jenny Garvin has maligned my son.”

“Mama,
must
we—?” Tris began, wishing only to escape from the table, the room and the house.

His mother gave him a level look. “Yes, I think we must, my dear. It will be good for you to learn the truth.”

He shrugged and pushed himself from the table. With a gesture that indicated she could do as she liked, he got up and went to stand at the window, where he stared out at the lawn. The landscape sparkled in brilliant sunshine which, earlier that morning, had struck him as pleasingly appropriate to his mood. Now it shone with an agonizing, ironical incongruity.

“Go ahead, Andrea,” Dulcie commanded. “We're listening.”

Andrea looked from Tris's straight back to her mother's anguished face and knew she'd gone too far. But her aunt's expression was steely as she waited, erect and motionless, for Andrea's revelations, and the girl realized that there was no turning back. She'd taken the plunge from a precipice called betrayal, and there was nothing left to do but fall. “She said he's a petty tyrant,” she began, lowering her eyes to the coffee cup before her, “who abuses the men who sail under him.”

Dulcie lifted an eyebrow. “Did she indeed? And is that all?”

“No, it's not all,” Andrea said defensively, lifting her chin and plunging on. “She described him as cold and inhuman. She said that he's incapable of kindness or forgiveness. That he exacts cruel retribution for minor offenses and even has his men whipped until they bleed. In sum, that he's a monstrous brute. So there!”

In the long silence that ensued, no one moved. The words seemed to hang in the air as tangible as the motes of dust that were visible in the morning sunlight. It was Tris whose voice finally broke through the charged atmosphere. “That was very well done, Cousin Andrea,” he said with icy sarcasm, turning to face her. “Your recital was a revelation. It's given me a completely new concept of the meaning of friendship.”

Andrea stared up at him, her lips beginning to tremble. Then, with a choked little cry, she rose from her chair and ran from the room.

Sally pressed her hands to her mouth. “I'm … so sorry. I don't know what to—”

“Don't trouble yourself, Aunt,” Tris said in a flat, contained voice. “There's no real harm done. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to keep.”

His mother started from her chair. “Tris? Do you think you should?”

“Yes, I do, Mama. I promised.”

“But if the girl's so foolish as to think of you as a
monster
—”

“Nevertheless, I'm expected at eleven. I shall be there on the dot.” He smiled at his mother grimly. “It should be a most interesting interview.”

At Willowrise, the scene at the breakfast table was equally tense. Robbie had breakfasted early and had gone out to ride, so Jenny and her mother were alone. Lady Garvin had been berating the girl for more than an hour. Jenny sat huddled over her teacup while her mother stood over her haranguing her mercilessly. “I don't see why you can't give me your word!” she nagged. “This matter is too important to be left to chance and whim.”

The argument had been going on for so long that Jenny was benumbed. “But Mama,” she pleaded for the dozenth time, “we don't even know that he's coming to make an offer. How can I make a decision when I don't even know his intentions?”

“His intentions are quite obvious. What other reason could he have? His conduct last night left room for no other interpretation, unless it would be to offer you a
carte blanche
.”

“Oh, now, Mama!
Really
! You can't believe—”

“Of course I don't believe it. I only said it to prove my point. A man like that, with wealth and position in society, doesn't seek an innocent and gently reared country girl as a mistress. He can choose from among the most expensive and beautiful pets of the fancy. But when he chooses a
wife
… a mother for his children … a woman to run his home and entertain his friends … well, then, he looks for something else entirely. You will suit him very well.”

“Mama,
please
! I don't want to talk about it any more.”

“But we must. This is not a matter to be left to chance, as I've said.”

Jenny put her fingers to her forehead and rubbed it despairingly. “Must I make a decision on the matter now? I don't know how I feel. I need more time—”

“But there isn't any time, don't you see? If you don't snatch your chances when they are offered to you, you may lose them forever. If you put him off, he may turn to Andrea, or to some London creature whom his mother will dredge up for him. A man like that is like mercury. He'll slip through your fingers before you've managed to get a good grasp on him!”

“Oh, Mama,” Jenny sighed miserably, “you make it all sound so … so … avaricious.”

“But you must be a bit avaricious, my love.” Her mother, exhausted, sank down on the chair beside her daughter. “I know it sounds dreadful to young, romantic sensibilities, but a mother in my position, with two children whose futures are not in any way secure, cannot afford to indulge in romance. I must make you see how important this meeting will be in our lives. You have, by some miraculous quirk of fate, won the eye of a man who can give you everything a girl could want.
Everything
. But even more wonderful, it will make your
brother's
future every bit as bright as yours. Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

“Yes, of course it does, Mama. I care about Robbie's future as much as you do. But it doesn't seem proper to make a … marital arrangement on that basis. Besides, didn't you say, just the other evening, that Captain Allenby was a beast?”

“Yes, I did. But I didn't mean it. Besides, even if he is a bit brutal to his crew, he would never be so to you.”

“No, I don't suppose he would. He had always shown me the greatest kindness.”

“There! You
see
?” She leaned forward with a hopeful smile. “I knew you're too clever a puss not to understand. So you
will
accept him, won't you?”

Jenny could feel her throat tighten with unshed tears. She was too confused to make such a decision on the basis of her mother's harangue. She needed time to think, to sort out her feelings, to try to understand the nature of the man who'd already won her heart but not her mind. But there was no time.