Captain and Countess Page 6

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Lily bubbled. “Harriett and I have become the best of friends, and so I had to invite her to come.”

  “Whatever you want, pet. This is your party.”

  Lily ran from his arms back to her friend and nearly dragged Harriett to him. The perfectly raised young lady, Harriett dropped a curtsey. “Thank you for having us, Captain Northcross.”

  “You’re most welcome, Miss Ellsford.”

  Lily took Harriett’s hand. “Isn’t everything glorious?”

  “Your house is very lovely, Captain Northcross. The grounds are perfect, and the house is quite grand,” Miss Ellsford said.

  Ah yes, adjectives. They’d gone back to that. With Miss Ellsford’s enthusiasm for the house and her mother’s sly glances topped off by the appearance of his brother, Jason’s head began to throb right behind his eyes.

  “Why don’t you take your friend inside to explore?” he said to his sister. “You might take rooms next to each other.”

  “Oh, yes, let’s do,” Lily declared. “Come on.”

  The two young women went into the house, leaving him alone with Sarah. And several manservants unloading cases and trunks.

  Sarah sidled up to him. “You’ve done well, Jason. The house looks splendid.“

  “So do you, but then you always do.“

  “Thank you, darling.“ She reached up with elegant fingers and tucked a strand of hair into her bonnet. “I can always count on you for a compliment.”

  “I’m surprised you left London. You were never one for rustication.”

  She placed her hand on her breast. “I couldn’t let my daughter come alone. There’s no older woman in the household to act as chaperone.”

  “How thoughtless of me.”

  “The other mothers will come along, too, I’m sure.”

  “I should have thought of that.” He placed his hands behind his back. “I don’t suppose you’ve brought Deauville along with you.“

  “Impossible. He’s in Scotland shooting at something.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Birds, I think. Ghastly business.“

  “We’ll likely have shooting parties here at Hollyfield.“

  “I’ll stay indoors.“ She glanced up at him, mischief and challenge in her eyes. “I don’t like what the sun does to my skin.”

  “You wouldn’t want it to burn, now would you?”

  She laughed, a deep contralto that wasn’t strictly decent. “Oh, Jason, how I’ve missed your wit, and your . . .”

  “Yes, well, none of that. We wouldn’t want the daughter to have to chaperone the mother.”

  “You really are taking up the straight and narrow, then.”

  “Absolutely. My fiancée will have no reason to complain of my behavior.”

  She huffed. “How tedious.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.” He gestured toward the stairs. “Now then, may I show you inside?”

  Lifting her skirts an inch or so, she preceded him on the short climb into the house. He might have imagined a slight swing to her hips that showed off the suggestion of her derriere to good effect. Sarah Ellsford, Lady Deauville, did nothing without gauging its effect. He’d have to keep his wits about him with her under the same roof.

  *

  “Do you think we can behead someone?”

  Bess’s head jerked up, and she stared at her friend and literary co-conspirator. “Really, Rose. Behead someone?”

  Rose paced across the carpet—her usual method of thinking. She managed to be petite where Bess was only short. Her lustrous red hair refused to stay the way her maid arranged it, sending curls in every direction to frame her face. The picture of feminine daintiness, not of someone who normally contemplated beheadings, even for evil characters in books.

  “Foul Walter’s certainly the sort who’d do a thing like that,” Rose said. “If he did that to the creature on his crew who attempted to assault his captive, young Nell, it might show his soft side.”

  “Oh, dear,” Anna said from where she sat at the writing desk. “You want to show someone’s soft side by having him cut off someone else’s head?”

  “It was just a thought.” Rose smiled. “You have to admit it would add drama.”

  “Bear in mind that many of our readers are innocent young girls,” Bess said. “I don’t think they’ll want to read about severed arteries and blood gushing everywhere.”

  “And I certainly don’t want to write it,” Anna added.

  “We could do it offstage,” Rose said.

  Bess and Anna looked at each other and said nothing.

  “At least I had an idea,” Rose said. “This book isn’t going anywhere.”

  “I want to write about a vampyre,” Anna said.

  “We’ve discussed this. Jack Sterling writes about pirates, not vampyres,” Bess said.

  “I know that.” Anna turned in her chair, draping her arm over the back. “We could write about pirates and vampyres.”

  Rose’s face screwed into a frown. “Why would a vampyre have anything to do with a pirate?”

  “Maybe the vampyre sails on a pirate ship from one place to another,” Anna said.

  “Why would someone like Foul Walter be carrying a vampyre back and forth?” Bess demanded.

  “Because the vampyre paid him a great deal of money.”

  “Dear Lord. We need another cup of tea.” Bess rose from her chair and went to the sideboard. “Or something stronger.”

  “You should stay away from strong spirits,” Rose said. “Drinking them isn’t ladylike.”

  “You know my opinion on that score.” Bess poured a bit of Irish whiskey into a tumbler and turned to confront her friend. “You’ve never seen me drunk, have you?”

  Rose straightened, taken aback by the question. “Of course not.”

  “You’ve never seen me without control of myself in any way.”

  “No,” Rose admitted.

  “Then I’ll drink if I want.” She hoisted the glass and sipped some of its contents. “My husband never told me what to do, rest his soul, and if I didn’t obey him, I don’t have to take guidance from anyone else.”

  “I’m sorry, Bess. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Rose said.

  “Don’t mind her moods,” Anna said. “She’s jumped at every little thing since London.”

  “You have, you know,” Rose said. “What on earth happened there?”

  Plenty happened there. First, that Montgomery person. He appeared ordinary enough on the surface, but something about him jangled the nerves. Something lay underneath all that ordinariness, something not quite right, and the suspicion that he hadn’t landed in that exact box at the opera by random chance wouldn’t go away. Captain Northcross seemed to have detected something, too, as he immediately began acting like her protector.

  And then, Northcross’d kissed her, the odious man. Why did he have to be so bloody good at it? On top of that, he’d sent that blasted apology. “Abominable behavior,” indeed. She should have saved the pieces and burned them.

  “Do you see?” Anna said. “She’s been that way since just before we came home.”

  “You’re right,” Rose said.

  “Stop it, both of you. We have a book to write.”

  “You know, Bess.” Rose’s complexion turned almost as bright as her hair. “We’ve both been married, and—”

  “And what?” Bess snapped.

  “Well, there are certain benefits of having a husband that one, um, misses after a woman’s, you know . . .” Rose made a fluttering gesture of her hand. “Well, don’t make me say it.”

  “Sex.”

  “That’s a crude word,” Rose said.

  “It’s a crude act.”

  Anna put her hand over her mouth and chuckled.

  “Do you have something to say on the subject?” Bess demanded.

  “Nothing.” Anna turned in her chair and stared at the paper in front of her.

  “Don’t you ever think of remarrying?” Rose aske
d.

  “Or taking a lover,” Anna added as though saying it to the pen in her hand.

  “You two are fine ones to talk. You’re both younger than I am. You ought to be the ones finding husbands.”

  “I don’t want another husband,” Rose said.

  “And I don’t have any money,” Anna added, speaking to the wall this time. “When there’s a market for impoverished spinsters, I’m sure I’ll be the first to go.”

  Anna had a lot of money, although she didn’t know it. She’d learn about it when Bess found a good match for her. As much as Rose had loved her late husband, she probably wasn’t ready to love again. That didn’t mean the two of them could live vicariously through her.

  “What I’m suggesting, Bess, is you need an outlet for those . . .” Rose paused. “. . . energies.”

  “I have my energies well in hand, thank you very much.”

  Anna half-coughed, half-choked.

  “Stop it,” Bess ordered. “You know what I mean.”

  “There’s quite a to-do over at Hollyfield, I hear,” Rose went on. “I heard it from Mrs. Doughty, who got it from the greengrocer. It seems the house has been let to a young man of some wealth.”

  “Really?” Bess downed the rest of her drink and set the glass aside.

  “There’s to be an elaborate house party with dozens of fine people coming from London,” Rose said.

  “If that’s the case, I think both of you ought to go over there tomorrow and present yourselves.”

  Rose stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “We can’t do anything like that.”

  “I don’t see why not. If there’s to be a house party, the wealthy young man will have many more of his ilk in attendance,” Bess said. “You two could have your pick of wealthy young men. I have no use for a young man, wealthy or not.”

  Anna coughed again.

  “You ought to treat that,” Bess said.

  “Why don’t you go and look? Someone might tickle your fancy,” Rose said.

  She went to Rose and gently squeezed her hands. “At five-and-thirty, I’m not likely to tempt anyone.”

  “That’s not old.”

  “It’s absolutely ancient.” Although Captain Northcross had found her adequate for kissing. More than adequate, if she was honest about his body’s reaction to the caress. “But now that you’ve thought up this plan, I must insist that the two of you make good use of the opportunity.”

  “It wouldn’t be proper for us to go over there and announce ourselves, Bess. You know that,” Rose said.

  “She’s right,” Anna added, now speaking to them rather than various objects in the room.

  “If we had a male relative, he could call on the gentleman first,” Rose said.

  “We’ll have Upton pretend to be your father,” Bess said.

  “You’re impossible,” Rose declared. “You wouldn’t use your butler that way.”

  The poor soul would do it if she asked him, although it would take ten years off his life to try such a stunt. At his age, Upton didn’t have years to spare.

  “You could go over, though. As a widow and owner of the adjacent property, it wouldn’t be odd for you to welcome your new neighbor,” Rose continued.

  “She’s right about that, too,” Anna added.

  “Oh, very well. I’ll ride over tomorrow. With any luck, the wealthy young man will be out and I’ll only have to leave my calling card.”

  Rose clapped her hands together. “I’ll do up your hair.”

  “I’ll help you select something to wear,” Anna said.

  “I’ll do my own hair and wear a riding outfit.” The very idea that they’d dress her up for this fool’s errand ought to make her laugh. “And once I’ve concluded this nonsense, I expect you both to present yourself at Hollyfield.”

  Chapter Five

  Hollyfield Hall occupied a rise of land high enough to dominate the fields and forests around it. Its size alone made it grander than Carlton House. Although Bess’s estate included more land, Hollyfield outdid her home for luxury as well as room for guests. From the number of carriages in and around the huge stable and the bustle of grooms and other servants, it seemed the hall must be filled to the rafters with gaiety. Certainly, all the saddle horses that filled the stalls suggested a throng of riders in attendance at the wealthy young man’s house party. She left her own mount in the care of a groom and headed off toward the main house.

  Once she reached the top of the steps that led to the entrance, the door opened before she’d had a chance to lift the knocker. A very efficient servant in livery stood on the other side, an even more efficient-appearing butler just behind him. After crossing the threshold, she reached into her reticule and produced her card.

  The butler bowed before taking the card and reading it. “Lady Rushford.”

  “Your neighbor from the next estate.”

  “Very good, my lady. I’ll announce you.” After another slight bow, he disappeared down a corridor, leaving her alone with the footman who’d opened the door. All very formal and proper, especially for the country.

  She didn’t have to wait long for a response. But instead of the butler returning, another man appeared. Not wearing his uniform this time, but she couldn’t mistake the tall bearing and green eyes. Captain Jason Northcross.

  He stopped dead when he saw her. “It is you.”

  Oh, dear Lord. Of all the people the earth could have coughed up to greet her, he was the absolutely last one it should have. He ought to be in London somewhere, easing some other woman’s headache and then giving her a more painful one by kissing her and following it with an insulting apology. She gaped at him for a moment. But no matter how long she stared at him, he didn’t disappear like the bad dream he surely must be.

  “You’re the wealthy young man?” she said finally.

  “You’re the amiable widow?”

  “I’m a widow,” she answered. “I wouldn’t swear to the amiable part at the moment.”

  The captain glanced at his footman. “That will be all, Ned.”

  The fellow bowed and evaporated to somewhere, as all good servants do during confrontation. She and the captain stood and stared until he had the decency to blush.

  “Shouldn’t you be—” He cleared his throat. “Well . . . at Rushford somewhere?”

  “My husband’s nephew inherited Rushford, not that that should concern you. I live at Carlton House.” She pointed in the general direction of her home, as though he could see through the walls toward it. “A few miles in that direction.”

  “Then you are the amiable widow.”

  That again. She glared at him in silence.

  “You see, the agent told me Hollyfield bordered a wooded estate and that the owner was a widow who might allow my party to fish and shoot there.”

  “In your case, Captain Northcross, I’d take care,” she said. “I might be shooting back.”

  “I deserve that, of course. I have so much to apologize to you for.”

  “Please.” She held up a hand. “One apology from you is more than enough.”

  “That especially.” The man had the good sense to look ashamed of himself. “It was ghastly.”

  “You have a way with understatement.”

  “Captain Northcross,” another voice called from behind him. A feminine voice. The woman came up beside him and stopped when she saw Bess. “Why, hello.”

  Her identity registered after only a second or two. Lady Deauville, the woman from that disastrous evening at the opera. Lady Deauville, the Perfect. Lady Deauville, the Tall. How delightful. First, the man who’d kissed her and then brushed her off. Now, a woman whose mere presence reminded her of all her inadequacies.

  Lady Deauville patted her hair, although it was already flawless. “We’ve met, I believe.”

  “Excuse me,” Captain Northcross said. “Lady Rushford, Lady Deauville.”

  The Deauville woman curtseyed. Bess didn’t.

  “Well,” Lady Deauville
said. “How nice to see you again.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Quite.” Lady Deauville turned to the captain and placed a hand on his arm in what for all the world looked like a possessive gesture. “I think you’d best come back. Your brother, the viscount—”

  “Oh, dear. Is he explaining science to the ladies?”

  “To everyone,” Lady Deauville said.

  “I’ll be right there,” he said.

  The woman gave Bess a smile, or an imitation of a smile, and disappeared down the hallway.

  “I’ll see myself out,” she said.

  “Please stay.” He reached toward her and then pulled his hand back. He had a habit of doing that. “That is, it’ll appear awkward if you don’t.”

  “I don’t see why.”

  “They all know someone new has arrived. Lady Deauville may have sensed some tension between us.”

  Bess crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t see how she could have missed it.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to come in and prove her wrong?”

  That was a tempting thought. Then, too, she’d never get Anna and Rose here if she didn’t accompany them. Unfortunately, it seemed she was going to have to share the same space as the captain at some point. She might as well begin now.

  “Very well,” she said.

  He smiled at her, showing off the dimples in his cheeks. The man could look like a choirboy in one moment and kiss like the very devil in the next. She didn’t have to kiss him again. She only needed to sit in a crowded room with him and make conversation. She could manage that well enough.

  “This way, please.” He gestured toward the hallway, inviting her to precede him to their destination.

  It turned out to be a sitting room, large and beautifully furnished and filled with glittering people. Only one person seemed out of place—a man who resembled the captain but whose hair was all askew and his clothing rumpled. He was speaking to a younger man, making wiggling motions with his hand and leaning rather too close to the fellow for comfort.