Captain and Countess Page 10

  “—room,” someone said.

  Jason pulled himself away from the erotic image and focused on his brother beside him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Lady Rushford would like us in the dining room,” Thomas said.

  “Of course.”

  The ladies went ahead, followed by the vicar. Thomas held him back. “And stop staring at her bosom.”

  “Was I that obvious?”

  “You looked as though you expected something to hop out from between her breasts,” Peter said.

  He groaned.

  “Buck up.” Peter slapped him on the arm. “Stronger men than you have melted into a puddle over a bosom like hers.”

  “Keep that to yourself,” Jason snapped.

  Peter laughed. “I wasn’t the one staring.”

  Both men stood there with grins on their faces, as if they’d caught him at something. Perhaps they had, but they must have appreciated Lady Rushford’s form. No flesh-and-blood male could have failed to. At least the ladies and the vicar weren’t here to witness his embarrassment.

  “Very well, you two,” he said. “I think we’re wanted at table.”

  “Behave yourself at dinner. We’ll be watching,” Thomas said.

  Jason huffed and led them into the dining room, which was easy enough to find with the sound of voices coming from it. By the time he’d taken his seat, reality had returned. The vicar had taken the host’s place opposite their hostess, so Jason didn’t have to look at her directly. When he did glance in her direction, he kept his eyes on her face. Unfortunately, that gave him a view of her lips, so soft and tempting. All the more so because he’d tasted them and felt them move beneath his own.

  Bloody hell. This was going to be torture. Why had he agreed to it? Oh yes, so they could become friends. Brilliant idea, that.

  “I do hope Lady Hadleigh is well,” Lady Rushford said.

  “Quite. She’s . . .” Thomas made a slight movement of his head toward the vicar and cleared his throat.

  “I noticed,” the lady said. “She seems healthy.”

  “She tires easily. And then, I’ve been performing a bit of an experiment on the baby,” Thomas said.

  Mrs. Thornton raised her hand to her throat. “An experiment?”

  “Not the sort one does in a laboratory, ma’am.” Thomas set his spoon down into his soup, allowing it to clatter. “You see, I have a theory about development before birth—”

  “Spare the ladies your theories, Thomas,” Jason said.

  Miss Pembroke paused in the act of lifting her spoon to her mouth. “Why the ladies?”

  “It’s a delicate subject,” Peter said.

  “And one women know a great deal more about than men,” Miss Pembroke replied.

  “Forgive me, Miss Pembroke,” Peter said. “I must bow to your expertise on the subject.”

  “I’ve never had children, Lieutenant, as you know,” Miss Pembroke said. “But I’d wager I still know more about babies than you.”

  Peter lifted his wine glass in a toast. “No doubt you’d win.”

  A flash of anger showed in Miss Pembroke’s eyes, and Peter responded with a smile. He’d scored a point in what appeared to be an ongoing battle, and he clearly knew it.

  “All I know about babies is that I’d like to have a large family,” Lily said.

  “Is that so?” the vicar asked, easily doubling the number of words he’d put into the conversation thus far.

  “Oh, yes. I’ve been so fortunate to have two brothers who dote on me,” Lily answered. “Always spoiling me and complimenting me.”

  “Surely, that’s no more than your due, Miss Northcross,” the vicar said.

  “The vicar’s right, pet,” Jason said. “You’re our treasure.”

  Lily didn’t blush easily, but she did it now. Her gaze met the vicar’s briefly, and then they both looked down.

  The staff cleared away the soup and served the next course. Fish in some kind of butter sauce. It smelled fresh, not the way the fishmonger’s did from time to time. Jason tried a bit and found it perfectly delicious.

  “I must compliment you on this, Lady Rushford,” Thomas said.

  “Thank you.” She brushed her napkin over that delicious mouth. “I took them from the river this morning.”

  Peter’s brow went up. “Do you fish?”

  “Does that surprise you?” Lady Rushford answered.

  “It’s not something most ladies do,” Peter said.

  “She hunts, too,” Miss Pembroke said.

  “You’re welcome to join me whenever you wish, Lieutenant,” Lady Rushford said.

  “We can see who’s the better shot,” Anna said.

  Peter’s grin returned. “Don’t tell me you shoot, too, Miss Pembroke.”

  Miss Pembroke grinned right back at him. “Not yet.”

  Once the fish was gone, servants presented the meat course of beef and potatoes. Excellent, just like everything else.

  “Lord Hadleigh, you’ve yet to explain your theory,” Lady Rushford said.

  “Theory?” Thomas said, looking up from his food, his fork raised. “Which one?”

  “About development before birth,” she answered.

  “Ah, yes. You see . . .” He waved his hand in the air and then, apparently noticing he still held his fork, put it down again. “I believe that stimuli from the outside can influence what goes on within the womb.”

  The vicar coughed.

  “Inside the mother,” Thomas corrected. “I’ve been talking to the child. Discussing science, speaking Latin, that sort of thing.”

  “Thomas is very clever,” Lily tossed in.

  “Do you think it’s having some effect?” Mrs. Thornton asked.

  “We won’t be able to tell until the child is born, but so far, my wife is tolerating it well,” Thomas said. “Until I got out my violin.”

  “Not the violin,” Jason said. “You didn’t.”

  “So, you play the violin,” Mrs. Thornton said.

  “Not well,” Thomas said.

  “And not in public,” Jason added.

  “My brother sings wonderfully,” Lily said.

  “Perhaps he’d sing for us,” Mrs. Thornton said.

  “Yes, Thomas, you must do,” Lily exclaimed.

  “Only if one of the ladies will join me in a duet,” Thomas said.

  “Bess, you will, won’t you?” Mrs. Thornton asked.

  For once, something flustered Lady Rushford. She twisted her napkin, her fingers fluttering over the linen. “Our guests wouldn’t want to hear me.”

  “I would,” Jason said softly.

  Their gazes met in a connection that held their past encounters in it. Knowledge of each other that the rest of the company didn’t share.

  “If you really want . . .” she said.

  “Please, sing for us, Lady Rushford,” Lily said.

  “I suppose we could have dessert in the music room.” Lady Rushford pushed back her chair and rose. The rest of the group did as well and proceeded to another room furnished with chairs, settees, and a modern pianoforte. Jason took a seat a bit behind the others and watched as Lady Rushford sifted through a pile of sheet music.

  She opened one booklet and handed it to Thomas. “What do you say to this, Lord Hadleigh?”

  “Mozart,” he said. “Don Giovanni.”

  Miss Pembroke sat at the piano and lifted the lid from over the keys. “Bess loves the opera. Unlike most people, she actually goes for the music.”

  “It’s in Italian,” Thomas said.

  “We can find something else, if you like,” Lady Rushford said.

  “I think I know the tune. Let’s try this.” He handed the score to Miss Pembroke, and he and Lady Rushford took their places behind her to read over her shoulder. Mrs. Thornton stood off to the side, ready to turn pages.

  The piece started innocently enough, with Miss Pembroke playing the piano introduction. Thomas came in right on cue, singing in a warm bass baritone.

&nbs
p; The duet was hardly a sweet little song, despite the simplicity of the tune. In it, Don Juan seduces a naïve country girl, played by Lady Rushford. When she joined in, the room filled with the sound of her song. Lilting and high, her voice flowed easily over the melody. The perfect match to Thomas, who now sang with more enthusiasm. As bad as he was on the violin, he could impress the most jaded listener with his singing. The two of them created beauty, and the rest of the party listened in awe.

  Of course, it took Jason back to that night when he’d rescued her from that fellow at the opera. How he’d touched her for the first time. How she’d melted in his arms the first time he’d kissed her. Now, watching her lean toward the music, her breasts rising and falling as she took breaths, he could hope to hear a different song from her lips. The sort a woman shared only with her lover when she’d reached the pinnacle of her desire. To be embedded inside her while she sang out in orgasm would be the ultimate in physical pleasure. And yet, he was supposed to be her friend.

  Friends didn’t harden until their cocks pressed against their pants. Friends didn’t ache to strip every bit of clothing from the other and cover her body with kisses. She was not his friend, damn it. She was his torment.

  When it ended, the tiny audience jumped to its feet with cries of bravo, and brava. He rose, too, making sure his coat covered the state of his member, and joined in the applause.

  Lady Rushford’s skin turned a lovely pink, all the way down the revealing bodice. “That was wonderful, Lord Hadleigh. We must do it again.”

  Thomas bowed. “Your servant, madam.”

  Delightful. They’d have more of these evenings. Maybe many more. How would Jason get through them without disgracing himself completely?

  *

  While the rest of the party was gathering itself to wait for the carriage to take them back to Hollyfield, Bess found Lily in the library, staring at the shelves of books. When she cleared her throat, the girl started, straightening and turning.

  “Lady Rushford, I hope you don’t mind my exploring a bit. This is such a lovely room,” Miss Northcross said.

  “There’s nothing hidden here,” Bess answered.

  Oh, no. That wasn’t exactly true. There was something here that should have been hidden if she’d taken a bit more care with the secret she shared with Anna and Rose. Because of her lack of attention, the damaging evidence lay unconcealed on the desk. The new pages of Jack Sterling’s latest book sat there where she’d forgotten to put them away in the confusion of dressing for this dinner. Bess caught their presence from the corner of her eye and then looked away. Perhaps if she pretended the papers didn’t exist, Miss Northcross wouldn’t notice them.

  “You have so many books,” Miss Northcross said. “You must read a great deal.”

  “I enjoy it.”

  “Reading exercises the intellect the same way practice perfects needlepoint or drawing,” Miss Northcross said. “Women’s minds should be as keen as men’s, don’t you agree?”

  “I think our minds are, whether or not men will admit it.”

  The girl gave Bess one of her beaming smiles. She clearly had a sunny disposition to match her innocent beauty. Both of her brothers doted on her, but the admiration hadn’t made her vain, but rather open and forthright in her dealings with others. So unlike some young women who hid their true selves behind pretty clothing and fluttering lashes.

  Miss Northcross turned toward the shelves, studying the spines of the volumes closest to her. “You have the classics, of course. The Odyssey. Shakespeare. I do adore Shakespeare.”

  For a moment, Bess might have found the opportunity to make a dash for the papers and snatch them away before Miss Northcross’s gaze could fall on them, but the girl turned toward her.

  “Which play do you prefer?” Miss Northcross asked. “Hamlet broods too much, and Romeo and Juliet is so sad.”

  “I prefer Taming of the Shrew.”

  Miss Northcross put her fingers to her lips. “That’s very bawdy, isn’t it?”

  “I’m surprised your brothers let you read it.”

  The girl’s blue eyes sparkled. “They don’t know everything I do.”

  “Then you are well read, Miss Northcross.”

  “I don’t think Petruchio really tames Katharine, though. I think she just pretends. A game she plays.”

  Bess couldn’t help but smile back. “Exactly how I see it.”

  The girl approached, almost as if she’d embrace Bess, but stopped herself at the last moment. “Lady Rushford, I hope you won’t think me forward. But I do hope we can be friends.”

  Friends again. First with her brother and now with this slip of a girl. Well, why not? This friendship would be an innocent one, in contrast to how she’d begun with the captain. And they would live near each other for some time.

  “I know we’re rather different,” Miss Northcross said.

  “In age?”

  “Heavens, no. I meant in station,” Miss Northcross said.

  “You’re the sister of a viscount.”

  “And you’re a countess,” Miss Northcross declared.

  “Let’s ignore status and be friends,” Bess said. Now she’d have two friends in the Northcross family. At least this one wouldn’t be a complicated relationship.

  The girl gripped her hands. “I’d love that.”

  “It’s settled then.”

  “We could share our books.” Lily went back to exploring. When she arrived at a certain shelf, her eyes went wide. “Jack Sterling. Lady—Bess—do you read Jack Sterling?”

  Ah. Yes, well . . . rather. “Some.”

  “I adore his books.” Lily pulled one from the shelf. “High Seas Ransom. I devoured this one.”

  Oh, dear. If so, the child had read about Foul Walter’s abduction of poor Nell onto Satan’s Frigate in preparation for her ruin. Not for the faint of heart, but the rapture on Lily’s face said she’d weathered the ordeal and looked forward to more.

  “Do you think Walter’s really that foul?” Lily asked.

  “He does terrible things.”

  “I think he has to. I think the world has made him cruel.”

  Rose’s influence there. She’d managed to hint at a secret wound that made Walter seem redeemable. Of course, having him behead someone to avenge Nell might take the image a bit too far.

  “I do hope Jack Sterling tells us what happened to Foul Walter to make him the way he is,” Lily said. “I’d like to think that a good woman could heal him.”

  “I hardly think so.”

  Lily put the book back on the shelf. “I hope you’ll visit me at Hollyfield, and that I may visit here.”

  “Of course.”

  A breeze blew in from the hallway. No doubt someone had opened the front door of the house and the current of air had traveled here. It held a chill, but more importantly, it blew the pages from the desk.

  “Oh, look,” Lily said. “Let me get those for you.”

  “Please, no. I’ll gather them up myself.”

  Too late, though. The girl had already arrived at the desk and bent to retrieve the papers from the floor. Bess stood by, doing her best to look unconcerned while she watched Lily study them. After a moment, the girl’s brow furrowed.

  “How odd. It seems to be a story about Foul Walter, but it’s not one I’ve read before.”

  “You’ve probably forgotten,” Bess said.

  “I’ve read them all more than once. I wouldn’t forget,” Lily said. “And see. Here’s a pirate with a peg leg. There’s never been one of them before.”

  “There must have been.”

  Lily glanced at Bess. “And these are original pages. And in a woman’s hand.” Lily lowered the papers and stared at Bess openly. “Lady Rushford. You’ve written this.”

  Bess tried to smile but didn’t do much of a job of it. “I was just playing.”

  “It all makes sense.” Lily took in a sharp breath, almost a gasp. “No one knows who Jack Sterling is. He’s quite a mystery
. Because . . . oh my . . . he’s a woman.”

  “You don’t honestly think—”

  “I do. I know it. You’re Jack Sterling!”

  Anna chose that exact moment to enter, no doubt having heard Lily’s last proclamation. Instead of acting nonchalant, she closed the door behind her. “What’s going on here?”

  Oh, dear God. There went any hope of bluffing her way out of Lily’s discovery. Anna had as much as announced that she and Bess had something to hide. That could only confirm Lily’s suspicion.

  “Oh, Miss Pembroke, it’s wonderful,” Lily burbled. “But then, I suppose you must know.”

  “I think we all do now,” Bess mumbled.

  “Lady Rushford writes Jack Sterling’s novels. It’s so exciting,” Lily said.

  Anna groaned.

  “I left the last chapter on the desk,” Bess said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Is there more you’re not telling me?” Lily asked. She shuffled through the pages again, scanning them with a keen eye. “Is there more than one person’s handwriting here?”

  “Miss Northcross—” Anna began.

  “Lily,” Bess interrupted. “This is a very great secret, and you must not tell anyone.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “I promise.”

  “The three of us—Anna and Rose and I—collaborate,” Bess said. “We’re all Jack Sterling.”

  “Oh, my.” Lily sank onto the chair behind the desk, blinking at them. “Oh, my, my.”

  “It’s not the sort of thing a lady is supposed to do,” Bess said.

  “A lady isn’t even supposed to read what we write,” Anna added.

  “I don’t care much for my reputation,” Bess said. “But Anna and Rose . . .”

  “I’d never tell,” Lily said. “I’d rather die.”

  “You needn’t do that,” Bess said.

  Lily spread the pages on the desk in front of her, smoothing them out carefully. “Let me write with you.”

  “Oh, dear.” Anna also dropped into a nearby chair.

  “No, please.” Lily got up, skirted the desk, and went to Bess, taking Bess’s hands in hers. “Let me try. I have such ideas. If I could learn to write them the way you do, my mind would soar.”

  “Your brothers would never approve,” Bess said.