Her Heart's Captain (22 page)

She lowered her head to her hands and forced herself to remember what had made her come to the decision, just a short while ago, to put Tristram Allenby out of her life. There had been three reasons. The first had been her doubt that such a fascinating, sought-after gentleman could actually have fallen in love with
her
. That reason had, since last night, completely lost its validity. He'd
told
her he loved her—and with such fervor that she couldn't doubt his sincerity. The second reason had been that Andrea wanted him. But she, Jenny, had not done anything to steal Tris's affection away from Andrea. He'd told her that he'd loved her since the day at Portsmouth. So Andrea would not be justified in accusing Jenny of beau-snatching. That left only the third reason: Tris's reputed tyrannies as a sea captain. That was the only stumbling block in the whole situation. And for that, Jenny could find no solution.

She glanced up at her mother who, with hands clenched at her breast and eyes eager with hope, sat waiting impatiently for her daughter's answer. It was almost time. A mere fifteen minutes remained before Tris was expected. Jenny's innards were trembling like a pile of nervous leaves shimmering in the wind. She needed to calm herself. She yearned for a few minutes at the piano to steady her mind, to find some semblance of serenity before facing Tris again. If she told her mother that she didn't yet know her mind, she was certain the nagging would be resumed. One more moment of her mother's importunities would completely shatter her control.

She lifted her head and met her mother's eyes. “All right, Mama,” she said wearily, “I'll do it. I'll accept him … if he's foolish enough to ask me.”

Chapter Eighteen

He paused before knocking. The sound of a piano, coming to him faintly from somewhere within, stilled his hand. There was something soothing in the sound. She was playing Bach, and the intricate regularity of the rhythm, the mathematical precision of the interlocking harmonies, seemed to create an antidote for the unruly trumoil in his head. He would have liked to stand there listening until the music ceased, but she played on and on as if driven, and he realized that he would be accused of tardiness if he procrastinated any longer. He lifted the knocker and hammered it firmly.

The music stopped abruptly. “I'll get it, Cullum,” he heard Lady Garvin call from within. She opened the door and ushered him in with babblings of eager welcome. Her effusions sickened him. She couldn't have made it more clear if she'd said in so many words that she expected him to make her daughter an offer.

“Jenny's in the music room,” she said with a conspiratorial twinkle. “It's just down the hall, opposite the drawing room. You can find your own way, can't you, Captain? I'm … er … needed in the kitchen, so I'll have to leave you and Jenny to your own devices for a while.” She gave a shrill, high-strung laugh. “I suspect you won't mind.”

Before he could reply, she scurried off. He looked after her in chagrin. In her excitement she hadn't even taken his hat. Perhaps his mother had been right—he shouldn't have come. He could have written a note … made some excuse. What was the point of coming here now?

Nevertheless he walked down the carpeted hall in the direction Lady Garvin had indicated. He found the music room without difficulty, for its large double doors were open and he could see the piano at once. It stood in the far corner of the room, brightly lit by the sunshine filtering in through two tall windows on the adjacent wall. Jenny still sat on the piano bench, her eyes lowered and her hands folded in her lap. She had evidently not heard his approach. “Good morning, ma'am,” he said from the doorway.

She gave a little start and jumped up. “Capt—Tris!” she said, with a quick, nervous smile. “Come in. I was expecting Cullum to announce you. Goodness, where
is
he? Why hasn't he taken your hat?”

“Your mother admitted me,” he explained, feeling a sharp sting of pain at the sight of her face—the sweetness of her expression, the innocent glow in her eyes, the slight flush of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks.

“Mama is sometimes a bit … overzealous. She shouldn't have … but never mind. Let me take your hat.”

“It doesn't matter. I'll just leave it here.” He deposited the headpiece on the nearest chair and looked down at her, feeling miserably awkward and boyish. “Is it permissible to close the doors, Jenny?”

“I don't know if it's permissible or not,” she said frankly, “but I wish you would. My affairs have been receiving more attention from my family than I can bear, and I'd welcome a little privacy. You take that door and I'll take this.”

As the doors met in the center, his hand brushed hers, and the touch sent a tremor right up his arm. To make matters worse, she looked up at him with a completely unexpected grin. “There!” she said mischievously as the latch clicked shut. “I feel better already.”

He couldn't manage an answering smile.
Damnation
, he thought,
if she's going to be charming, I'll have the devil's own time of it. I should never have come
.

She led him to the love seat which was set between the two windows and sat down. He stood uncertainly before her, reluctant to take a seat so close to her. He was a fool to have come. He didn't even know what to say to her.

She peeped up at him shyly. “Are you going to sit here beside me, sir, or will you be more comfortable pacing about? You may do anything you like, of course, so long as you don't continue to stand there and glower at me. You're putting me quite out of countenance, you know.”

“Was I glowering?” A small smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. “I'm sorry.” He took the seat beside her. “I think sitting will be less nerve-wracking than pacing, don't you?”

“Infinitely less.”

She took a quick look at his face. For the first time, she noticed a tightness around his mouth and a wary, strained look in his eyes. But even though she felt a tiny suspicion that something was amiss, she was aware of how pleasant it was to be sitting beside him. Whenever he was near her, it was hard to remember that he was Robbie's tyrant. She relished sitting close to him like this.

His eyes were on her face with an enigmatic, searching look, and her eyes fell away. “Did you enjoy the ball last night after we left?” she asked, not being able to fathom his silence. “I expect that the supper was a veritable feast.”

“Yes, the supper was gargantuan, ma'am,” he said drily, “and, yes, the weather is a delightful change from what it was a few days ago. Are there any other irrelevancies of which you wish to speak?”

She giggled. “I suppose I
was
babbling. I'm not accustomed to … er … interviews of this sort.”

“Neither am I.”

She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye. “But I'm quite willing to speak about whatever you wish. Choose your subject, sir.”

“You know the subject. I'd like an answer to the question I put to you last night. Have you given it any thought?”

“To be honest, I've had nothing on my mind
but
last night,” she admitted with a sigh. “But the goings-on in my head can't possibly be described as thinking.”

A reluctant laugh was wrung out of him. “Yes, I know what you mean. I've been in a fog of confusion myself.”

“
Have
you? I should never have guessed. You always seem so remarkably logical and in control of your thoughts.”

“It's only a veneer. Ever since I met you, I've been anything but ‘logical and in control,'” he said with a touch of bitterness.

She was quick to catch the tone. His manner began to puzzle her. He was not the same as last night. The importunate lover was quite gone. She didn't know what to make of it. “I didn't know I had so disturbing an effect on you,” she ventured timidly.

“Then you know it now. And you'll understand, therefore, why I'm impatient to settle matters between us so that I can return to the more stable mentality of my former self.”

There was no question that something in him had changed, and her instinct warned her that the change was not in her favor. A little seed of dismay took root in her chest and began to grow. “What matters are there to settle?” she asked shakily.

“Are you playing female games with me, Jenny? It's not like you to be coy and evasive. Last night I said certain things to you which you must surely recollect—”

“Yes.” She lowered her head and bravely plunged into the heart of the matter. “You said you … l-loved me.”

“Yes, I did. And one can't go about making such a statement … or receiving it … and then try to pretend that it never happened. Such a declaration must be in some way faced … acknowledged … dealt with.”

“I don't wish to be coy and evasive, Tris,” she said softly, unable to decipher his mood or his intentions, “but I'm not sure what it is you wish me to say.”

“Say whatever your instincts tell you to.”

Her fingers twisted nervously. “My instincts are too confused. Besides, you said earlier that you wanted me to answer a question. A declaration of love is not exactly a question, you know.”

He gave a sneering laugh. “Ah, my dear, you
are
adept at female games after all, I see. I hadn't thought it of you. What you're saying, with typical feminine circumlocution, is that I must first make you an offer of marriage before you can respond to my declaration, isn't that it?”

His tone chilled her to the marrow. What had turned him so bitter? Now that she was willing to accept him, had he changed his mind? She turned to him, her eyes searching his face for a clue. “I've been taught to believe that such was the usual procedure,” she admitted. “Am I wrong?”

“I don't know. I had always imagined that when I was ready to propose marriage, I would have reached a level of intimacy with the lady which would negate the necessity for following proscribed procedures.”

“So had I, Tris.”

“Then why are we playing this game? Why can't you say what's on your mind without my making the ritual marriage proposal?”

“Because,” she said, turning away, “I suddenly have the distinct impression that you don't … wish to marry me at all.”

He stared down at her bent head. This conversation was becoming unbearable to him.
Why did I come?
he asked himself again.
Did I imagine I would find satisfaction in taking a paltry revenge on the girl by making her miserable? If so, perhaps I
am
a vindictive beast, as she suspects
! But it was not so. He had no wish to give her pain. He put a hand on her arm. “Jenny, I—”

But she turned around, her eyes wide with a sudden shock of apprehension. “
Oh
! You don't mean … you
can't
mean …”

“Mean what, Jenny?” he asked, nonplussed.

“Can it be that … that instead of marriage you've come to offer me a
carte blanche
?”

“
What?
” He gaped at her, completely taken aback.

“I'm being shockingly blunt, I know, but you said you didn't want female evasiveness. I'm trying to understand what's in your mind. You said you love me, but if you don't wish to marry me, what else can you have in mind but a
carte blanche
?”

He stared at her in utter amazement. “A
carte blanche
!” He seized her arms, wanting to shake her until her teeth rattled. “You shatterbrained little innocent, I'd wager you don't even know what those words mean!”

“Then you would most certainly lose,” she declared, putting up her chin. “I know
exactly
what they mean.”

He felt a laugh welling up inside him. “If you do, my dear, I must admit to a feeling of admiration for your ability to speak of it so frankly.”

She colored. “You're laughing at me, aren't you? I don't blame you. I'm sorry to have suspected … it was very foolish of me. Mama says that I'm not the sort that a … a man of parts would choose for a mistress, especially someone like you, who can choose from among the most beautiful and expensive—”

“Your mother, my girl, doesn't know the first thing about the desires of a ‘man of parts,'” he muttered, fighting with all his might against a desire to gather her in his arms.

Her eyebrows rose in astonishment. “Does that mean that you
do
—?”

It was too much for him. With a guffaw that was closer to hysteria than laughter, he pulled her to him. “Oh, my sweet,
sweet
Jenny,” he murmured into her hair, “you can't really believe that, loving you as I do, I would ever demean you in such a way?”

She sagged against him, relief flowing through her like a cleansing breeze. “I didn't
seriously
think that to be your intention,” she whispered, burying her burning face in his shoulder.

They clung to each other for a long while, each one finding solace in the closeness of the other. Then, without a conscious realization of what he was doing, he lifted her chin, turned her face up to his and kissed her. It was so instinctive and natural that, for a moment, he forgot the bitter anger that had been tormenting him. This sweet, vulnerable girl in his arms had been so devalued by her mother that she didn't know what a prize she was. He wanted nothing more than to protect her, to prove to her what a gem she was.

But when he let her go, Andrea's revelations came flooding back into his mind. Staring up at him, Jenny could see his eyes darken. “Tris, what
is
it?” she asked, putting a hand to his cheek.

“Blast it, Jenny,” he muttered, thrusting her hand away and jumping to his feet, “I should never have done that!” He turned and strode to the window, keeping his back to her and his hands clenched. He had to find a way to extricate himself from this entanglement with the least possible pain to her and to himself.
What insane impulse
, he wondered again,
made me come here today?