My Dear Jenny (24 page)

“But Emily—I admit that she has behaved very
foolishly, but—”

“Foolishly!” He gave a great bark of laughter. “Your
patience is greater than mine, Jenny. I have put up with that child’s airs and
notions, have watched her tyrannize over you—”

“Hardly tyrannize! I suspect that you know very little of
tyranny—from the aspect of the ... the tyrann
ee
.”

“Probably true.” He smiled again, and her heart gave a
lurch. “But do you seriously propose that I go after that child and tell her
that I lied? That I do cherish some unlikely passion for her despite her
ninnyhammer ways and selfishness, and that she was altogether wrong in her
fancies that I harbored some feelings for you?”

“Well, the last, at least...” Jenny said thoughtfully. “No,
I don’t suppose that you ought to go after her; she has been unconscionably
froward and stupid tonight, and I’m really rather—embarrassed—at
some of the things she has been imagining, although your aunt—”

“Planted some of those thoughts in her mind?”

“Yes.”

“Even if they were correct?”

The words were spoken in a level, even tone, hardly one
calculated to make Miss Prydd execute the sudden, startled turn back in his
direction.

“But she isn’t, of course,” she said, with almost a match to
his evenness.

“I said the child was selfish, and a ninnyhammer, and had
allowed her jealousy to overrule her affection for you. I did not say that she
was wrong on every count.”

“Just what are you saying? Or are you saying anything at
all?” Jenny asked, just a little breathlessly.

“At the moment? That I am tired of beating around the bush.
And I have hoped to remove from you some of your original, very patent dislike
of me. And that now, since Emily has obligingly opened the subject, I would
like very much to know what my success has been. Do you think you could learn
to care for me, Jenny?”

He stood across the room from her, his back to the door,
light from several dozen candles illuminating his countenance, yet Jenny found
that she had trouble clearly seeing him. “Care for you, Mr. Teverley?” She
repeated blankly.

“Confound it, if you are going to talk with a man in this
sort of vein you ought at least to use his Christian name. Even if it’s only to
let him down easily. You know it, don’t you?”

“Of course I know it,” Jenny answered indignantly.
It has
been singing inside of me these three months
. But she did not say that
aloud. She wished desperately that this were not happening; it was almost as if
he were testing her. The whole thing was absurd, a strange conceit on Teverley’s
part, and he had no idea how he was wounding her.

“Well, then, do you need coaching? You have only to say ‘Peter,
I might try.”’ He looked at her ruefully, and she saw that his color was high. “Of
course, you might prefer to say that nothing in the world could persuade you to
make the effort.”

“But why? That is, what are you asking?” Jenny asked
stupidly, feeling wildly as if there were some segment of the conversation she
did not understand. “Perhaps it is only that idiotic knock on the head, but I
cannot think straight—I—”

“Dammit, woman!” He scowled. “They don’t school you to make
speeches of this sort in the India trade.” He crossed the room and took her by
the shoulders, facing him squarely. “I want you. I want to marry you. I love
you. Do you understand?” He looked at her anxiously.

“Yes, of course I
understand
.” Jenny murmured. “But
why? I mean, you cannot be serious, you cannot mean that—Oh, God, I have
never been such a ninnyhammer in all my life.” She sank away from him onto the
sofa behind her and sat staring at her hands. “The problem is that while I
understand your words, I don’t understand it, I can’t believe—I’m not the
sort of woman—and Emily was only being stupid and fanciful, so there is
no reason to be gallant about—but that makes no sense, for you aren’t the
gesture-making sort of man. I simply—”

“Don’t believe a word that I have said? I should have
thought that my willingness to put up with Miss Emily’s simperings of the last
few weeks would have indicated that no sacrifice was too great,” he said
lightly.

She simply could not believe what he had said. He was, she
felt, far above her touch. Jenny sank further into the sofa and dropped her
gaze again. “This is a very strange interview,” she murmured after a moment.

“Damn it, Prydd,” he muttered through the silence. “When I
first saw you at the Green Falconer I thought you were simply what you appeared
to be: a poor relation, who might as well have been the chit’s governess. The
sort of woman who is referred to as ‘excellent’ or ‘worthy’ and is never
invited to dine with the family. But—I don’t know what it is: You’re
damned argumentative, provoking, commonsensical at the most inconvenient times
... and it has been some while since I have been able to look at you without
thinking you the most exceptional woman I know. Good God, on the other hand,
why should you look at me? I was never what you call handsome, even in my
younger days. I come out raw and rude at the most awkward times, and sometimes
I hardly know I’ve done so. To be sure, I’m wealthy enough, but you’ve never
struck me as the sort of woman to marry only for an establishment. What Miss
Emily sees as romantic in me you might well, as a woman of sense, shudder at.”
He set himself beside her and stared out the darkened window. “Damn it, how
do
you feel about me?”

“Why,” Jenny said slowly, not fully believing that it was
she who spoke, “I’ve been in love with you since the Green Falconer.” She
turned to him in amazement, as if she had just startled herself beyond bearing.
Teverley was not one to let such a disclosure go by; he gathered her to him
strongly.

“Then why the devil,” he murmured tightly into her hair, “have
we been making each other so miserable these ten minutes?”

And kissed her.

Jenny had experienced the kisses of her cousins, her uncles,
and her father. She had even, once long ago when she was home on a holiday from
her school, been kissed by an interesting young man who was nephew to the
curate. Nothing in all her life had prepared her for Teverley’s kiss. And
nothing had prepared her for her response to him. When at long last they drew
apart, somewhat shakily, to laugh and regard each other with new eyes, she
smiled and remarked that kissing him felt so natural she was surprised, in
retrospect, that they had not discovered it before. Teverley gave a shout of
laughter.

“Jenny, you madwoman! How I ever saw past those impossibly
prim clothes and your schoolmistress manner to find the astringent witch that
lurked within, I cannot say. I suppose I can only thank my stars.”

“I don’t believe there was such a woman until I met you,”
she said. “I think you must have created her from whole cloth, for, to be quite
frank with you, I have never in all my life behaved in the way I have behaved
in these last three months. And always around you. I believe that is how I
first knew that you were special—you brought out such extraordinary
things in me! I can recall sitting at Mrs. Hatcher’s table in the coffee room
wondering what had come over me to quarrel with a perfect stranger!”

“Not a quarrel, my love. Merely a quibble.”

“See, you do it again! And how was I to answer but in kind?
Only, I never had before—I don’t think that I even knew that I could
before. You keep surprising me with myself. Unless you simply create the
things, and leave them for me to discover.”

“Very fanciful,” Teverley approved, gathering her into his
arms and kissing her ear. “Sweet Jenny. Darling Jenny. Pretty Jenny.”

Miss Prydd drew away. “I am aware of your partiality, Peter—”

“I should hope so, minx.” He continued to nibble on her
earlobe, unperturbed.

“But calling me pretty goes beyond everything—into the
realm of fairy tales, and—”

He forced her face up to meet his eyes. “Enough of that
nonsense. No, my love, I am desolated to inform you that you are
not
a
nonpareil
.
You will never be written into the
Gazette
as one of the great beauties
attending Almack’s. But as for anything else, I beg leave to inform you that
once you leave off your servant’s gowns and schoolroom air, you are a very
handsome woman. Pretty. And just at this moment—” He smiled into her
eyes. “You are very beautiful. I realize that this is just a transitory
enchantment, but nonetheless, I will not have you abusing yourself because you
cannot rightly interpret the image your mirror gives you.”

“Peter, I love you.”

“For telling you that you are pretty? A fine love, that.” He
pulled her into the curve of his arm contentedly.

“For telling me that I am pretty in such a fashion. As well
as for a million other things. Particularly your smile.” She was rewarded by
that smile at very close quarters.

A few minutes later she roused herself from his embrace. “Peter,
you know that I have only just recalled that we are still at your aunt’s
fête
?
At any moment—”

“No one will come to disturb us, love. I made certain of
that. However, it has been a rather—uhm—taxing day for you, on top
of your injury—I swear I was never so ready to kill anyone in my life as
I was Domenic that morning! And dearly as I would love to stay here with you
forever—” his smile underscored the words— “I think it is the
better part of valor that I send
you
to your room with a cup of warm
milk as well as Miss Pellering.”

“Am I supposed to tell you that I hate you? It won’t wash,
for I am a great deal more stubborn than Emily is.”

“I fervently hope so,” he agreed.

“But Peter, what are we to do? I mean, immediately? I must
get Emily back safely to her parents, for her mother specifically asked that I
watch out for her. And my aunt Winchell—”

“Damn it, there you go, sinking Jenny in lphegenia.”

“You must admit that I have spent seven and twenty years
being Iphegenia, and only three months as Jenny. Try as I will, the strain will
show through now and again.”

“It is only for me to keep a very close watch on you and
help you overcome your impulses to sacrifice all your comfort for someone else’s
convenience.”

“Even yours?” she teased.

“Especially mine,” he said seriously. “I know I can be a
dictatorial sort, and you must keep a watch on me.”

“Oh, I will keep a very close watch on you,” Miss Prydd
assured him.

“Prydd, my very dear Prydd,” he laughed. “If you smile at me
that way you will never see your warm milk, and both our reputations will be
gone by morning. What I propose, love, is that in the morning you will depart
for London—with Miss Pellering, and with my escort. And we will dispatch
your Emily to her family, and I will have a talk with Lord Graybarr, so that no—uhm—misunderstanding
is possible about her conduct or yours here. After which I will take you to
your friend Lady Bevan. And as soon as I can procure a special license, I will
wed you from there.”

“Peter, the whole of it sounds like heaven. And it is lovely
to give the management of things over to someone else for a while, although I
will probably give you a fight for it in another situation.”

He accepted her challenge and asked: “And shall you mind—shall
you dislike it very much if I do, no, if
we
do have to return to India
sometime?”

“I shall like it above all things. Had you not realized that
I am incurably fascinated by the glimpses of your travel and business you have
given me? I shall be a sore trial to you, for I will quiz you on every move you
make.”

“And make more of your eminently practical suggestions, as
practiced in Dumsford-parish church work?” he teased.

“Certainly,” she agreed. “And I shall love you very much.
Will you mind?”

He rose and took her hand. “My dear Prydd, I shall like it
above all things.”

My Dear Jenny

A Regency Romance

Madeleine Robins

Copyright © 1980 Madeleine Robins

ISBN: 978 1 61138 070 5

Cover design by Amy Sterling Casil

First publication: Fawcett

Book View Café eBook Edition

July 12, 2011

www.bookviewcafe.com