Mindful of his sister's words, he did not immediately seek her out. Instead, he merely nodded briefly in her direction when she became aware of his presence.
Jennifer was accompanied by Lord Melville, and when she caught the earl's eye, she cast him a meaningful look. If in that moment she appeared merrier and more pleased with her escort than she had for the previous part of the evening, who was to censure her? Certainly not Melville! He found her change in mood most encouraging.
Seeing that Sinclair had no intention of approaching her, Jenny became more determined to show her indifference to his actions, while the whole room waited with bated breath for the couple's response to the encounter.
However, society was doomed to disappointment. If they were hoping to witness any dialogue between the pair, they were sadly mistaken. Both appeared indifferent to the other's actions.
Lady Clay was heard to comment on dear Jennifer's vivacity, but, apart from that, there was no further cause for comment. When, at the end of the evening, the two guests left without as much as a glance in the other's direction, none could fault their conduct.
Returning to his lodgings some while later, Lord Melville congratulated himself on the outcome of the evening, believing that at last he appeared to be making some progress with the young heiress.
Jennifer, however, viewed the event quite differently. Sitting before her dressing-table mirror, she dismissed her maid. "Insufferable man," she declared to the pale little face that looked back at her. "I care not if I should never see him again." And who knew whether she spoke of Melville or Sinclair, for even she did not!
The earl also repaired to his apartment at Fly Hall in no even frame of mind, but when he opened the drawer to his dresser and saw the portrait gazing back at him from its new frame, his expression softened, and all irritation left him.
As the season advanced, society ceased to be forever expectant of a reconciliation between Sinclair and Lady Jennifer. Some young bucks were even prepared to speculate as to which of their numbers would succeed in securing the lady's hand. It was noticeable, however, that she treated them all with the same open friendliness, showing no partiality whatsoever to any one of them.
The Earl of Hawley had been obliged to reject no fewer than four applications for her hand and was becoming increasingly incensed with her blank refusal to even contemplate matrimony, believing her stubbornness to be nothing more than an attempt to thwart his own plans to enter the married state. So uncomfortable became the atmosphere when they met in the dining room that Jennifer attempted to avoid the encounters, preferring to eat in her apartment on the rare occasion when Hawley dined at home.
To Flora's annoyance, Sinclair appeared to be losing interest in society, finding it necessary to refuse what she thought of as perfectly suitable invitations-invitations that at any other time he would delight in accepting-preferring instead to remain at Sinclair House or to visit one or two of the select clubs to which he belonged.
Although she made known her disapproval, she could not help but feel for her brother. Nevertheless, when an invitation came from Major Drake to join him and fellow officers for a reunion supper in Richmond, she found he needed no encouragement to accept. He set forth with some enthusiasm, evidently eager, after so lengthy a break, to meet with the other officers of his regiment on the rare occasion of their being granted furlough.
The evening had advanced into the small hours of the morning when finally Edward's coach returned home. The slight rolling of his gait proclaimed his inebriation as, entering the hallway, he presented the attending footman with his hat and cane.
"There's a young gentleman waiting for you in the library, my lord," confided the footman. "He arrived about midnight."
"My brother?" asked the earl, a bemused frown clouding his brow.
"No, sir. He gave his name as the Honorable Frederick Lynton. I told him you were not at home, but he insisted that he wait for you"
"What now?" groaned the earl, feeling in that moment unequal to the task of entering into a conversation that would tax his ingenuity. It was with some effort that he turned toward the library when he so much would have preferred to retire to his bed.
The candles had burned low in the sconces, casting the room deeply into shadow. When the earl entered, he was surprised to see the youth lying with his head on his arms at the desk, obviously asleep. As he approached, Freddie mumbled inaudibly and moved his head slightly so that one arm hid his face. Sinclair halted his progress. There was something not quite right about the form before him. It had the same dark, curly hair, but there was something about the set of the shoulders.... They were far too slim. Indeed, the whole upper part of the body appeared too slight.
Confused, he sat heavily in the leather chair set before the desk and attempted to force his eyes to focus on the boy before him. He cursed the fact that he'd drunk so much wine and shook his head as if to rid himself of its effects, but the figure remained the same. There was definitely something odd about the boy.
Due to the lateness of the hour and his intoxicated state, as he relaxed in the chair, his head drooped forward, and he, too, drifted into sleep. However, after only a few moments, an insistent hand shaking his shoulder woke him, and with a great effort he fought his way back to consciousness.
"Edward, do wake up," commanded an urgent voice. "I have need of you! Wake up!"
"Jen?" he expostulated in a bewildered tone, attempting to focus on the face above him.
"You're drunk!" she accused with disgust.
"No, I'm not foxed," he corrected, straightening in his seat. "Just slightly bosky."
"You are decidedly drunk. I can't believe you would choose this of all nights."
"My profound apologies," he said, gripping her shoulder and rising unsteadily to his feet. "Bad form to be bamboozled in front of a lady." His eyes narrowed as he took stock of the figure before him. "What's happened to your hair, Jen, and why are you wearing boy's clothes? Though I must say, they suit you admirably." Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, "Are they Freddie's?"
"Yes, but never mind that," she said impatiently, pushing him back into his seat. "Do try to understand that I need you"
"At your service," he said, once more standing erect and bowing. "I'm not so bosky as to render me useless, but I feel I must point out to you, my dear, that I am not at my best, and this situation is highly irregular." A frown puckered his brow as he looked questioningly about the room. "Does your maid accompany you? I don't see her, and surely you must realize that to be visiting a bachelor's establishment at this time of night, and without even your maid, is not at all the thing."
She looked impatiently at him. "No, no one accompanies me. Oh, do sit down, Edward. I can't talk to you when you tower over me as you're doing now."
"Why are you here?" he asked, resuming his seat. As an afterthought, he added, "Not run away, have you?"
"Certainly not! Though, upon reflection, I can see that it may seem that I have. I never thought of it in that light. Now it will not do that you sidetrack me. It's Perry and that ungracious brother of mine."
He groaned, putting his hand to his bowed head. "Not another scrape! What now?"
"Perry came to see me late this afternoon. Freddie's absconded"
"What the deuce for? Why did Perry not come to me?"
"He said that you were away from home, and he'd tried to sort the matter out on his own, but now that Freddie's gone, he had to come to tell me"
"What the devil is all this about-another prank?"
"It's slightly more serious than a prank this time. A fight."
"A fight?" he repeated stupidly, sitting fully erect and giving her the whole of his attention.
"They stole out after hours to go to a cockfight that had been arranged in a local barn, and there were quite a few sporting bucks there. Freddie got embroiled in an argument with one of them that resulted in a mill. His opponent fell heavily, striking his head, and lost consciousness. Thinking he'd killed h
im, Freddie took to his heels before they could call the runners"
"Stupid boy!" remonstrated Sinclair. "And I suppose Perry was no better?"
"Perry went after him to reassure him that his opponent was merely stunned, but he could not find him. When he eventually returned to his rooms, a note had been delivered to say that Freddie was going into hiding and Perry should not try to find him."
"All this would've been totally unnecessary if only they'd come to me," complained the earl, sighing heavily with frustration. "Though where to start to look for him, I don't know."
"I do," she said with some aplomb, "but I can't go alone. Therefore, so as not to involve anyone else in the matter, I've decided that you will take me. I've told Perry to stay here, should Freddie return while we are away. We must travel incognito, of course, which is why I dress as a boy. It would cause too much comment if you were seen to be accompanied by a girl...."
"And it would not draw interest and comment if you are seen in the company of a one-armed man?" he asked scornfully. "We could hardly go unnoticed."
"Now you are being difficult. I've thought of that. We shall travel on the Accommodation Coach as ... brothers, or cousins, or even tutor and pupil. We are less likely to be noticed if we travel on a public conveyance than if we use one of our own vehicles."
"You've thought this out quite thoroughly," he said, slightly surprised and not without admiration. "But there's no need for you to become embroiled in the affair. I will follow in Freddie's wake and bring him back. There's no need for you to be setting out on such a venture"
"There's every need, for I know where to search, and you don't. I couldn't tell Arthur-you must see that. He would berate Freddie shamefully, and who knows what state of mind poor Freddie's in? No, I must go, and if you choose not to accompany me, then so be it."
He saw the impropriety of the situation, but his inebriation made him reckless. However, he made one last attempt to persuade her to remain in London. "I take it that you've left no message for Hawley?"
.'No!"
"Then when it is seen that you are gone, it will be thought that you've eloped or some such. Do you think that wise?"
"Wise or not, there's no alternative. Edward, do hurry," she pleaded, taking hold of his sleeve. "We don't have much time if we are to catch the Accommodation Coach; it leaves The Blue Boar for Coventry at five."
"Where are we heading?"
"Buxton in Derbyshire."
"Why in the devil's name Buxton? Its halfway up the coun- tryt".
"Because I believe Freddie will have gone to an old friend who lives there, and, of course, he will think that Buxton is far enough away to be of no interest to the runners"
"You realize, of course, that, being somewhat in my cups, I will probably regret this in the morning," he warned, standing and making for the door. "We can't set out totally unprepared. I will put some necessary items into a valise. I trust you've not come empty-handed?"
She looked meaningfully toward a small cloak bag that had remained unnoticed by the hearth.
When he returned to the library a short while later, he'd changed his evening clothes for the more serviceable attire of buckskin breeches with top boots and a coat of dark blue superfine.
Jennifer darted from the chair where she'd been waiting impatiently for his return. "Thank goodness you've come," she said a little breathlessly. "I was beginning to despair and thought you had fallen asleep."
"Never!" he replied, making a small bow. "Would I do such a thing when a lady is waiting for me?"
She cast him a deprecating glance. "Edward, am I to get any sense from you?" she asked.
"I'd thought I was all sense," he replied, grinning down at her. "See? I even remembered the money." And he held out his wallet as proof.
"I've been thinking about that," she said soberly. "I've a notion the amount of money I have in my purse will not suffice. Therefore, I would be grateful if you would keep a strict tally on what you are obliged to spend on my behalf, and I will ensure you are repaid on our return."
"Then I shall be banker. Though, as for keeping tally, I must warn you that I can be quite unreliable in that direction. There's absolutely no need to keep account of my expenditure on your behalf, as I will bear whatever costs are necessary. Now we must go before the servants start to stir. The hall porter has retired, so if we make haste, we may leave unobserved"
Within a short while of leaving the yard at The Blue Boar, the rocking of the coach lulled Sinclair into a deep slumber from which it would have taken nothing short of an explosion to wake him. Surprisingly, there had been few passengers awaiting the coach, and he'd been able to secure a window seat with Jennifer sitting between him and a clerical gentleman who was equally eager to seek repose. Sitting opposite them was a rotund man of uncertain occupation who insisted upon attempting to engage Jennifer in conversation, his wife, punctuating each of his sentences with a nod of her head, seemingly just as eager to set up a dialogue.
Feeling unequal to a lively tete-a-tete so early in the day, Jennifer gave only monosyllabic replies before stating herself to be extremely tired and, begging her companions' pardon, rested her head against Sinclair's shoulder, and she, too, drifted into sleep.
Several changes of teams were achieved at the coaching inns en route before she again woke to find her traveling companions to have changed. The cleric remained, but the opposite seat now contained two birdlike spinsters who were obviously sisters and an elderly gentleman who appeared to be in their care, as they constantly fussed over him.
Relinquishing her position against Sinclair's shoulder, she sat erect, casting him a sidelong glance that assured her he still slumbered. To her vast amusement, his curly-brimmed beaver was now set at a rakish angle over one eye, and she fought the impulse to issue a very unladylike giggle.
"Have you enjoyed your sleep, young sir?" asked the elderly gentleman, smiling indulgently at her. "I would suppose it was a very early start for such a youngster as yourself."
"Oh, I'm older than I look, sir," she replied, relishing her role of schoolboy.
The elderly man grinned. "And how old might that be? You're naught but a young shaver of a lad."
She thought hurriedly. She'd not given her appearance much thought but realized that, as she wore her brother's earlier schoolboy garb, she must appear to be very young.
"Twelve," she replied with composure, hoping to have chosen correctly.
The old man grinned. "And is this your father, my boy?" he asked, nodding at the earl.
"Certainly not," she replied with some amusement. "He's my tutor, Mr. Thurston"
The old man, who informed her that his name was Griffin and that he traveled with his daughters, eyed the earl uncertainly, taking in the cut of his coat and the gleam of his top boots. "He's a very elegant-looking tutor. Never known any tutor to wear clothes of that quality." Then, nodding briefly at Sinclair's left shoulder, he observed, "Been in the war, has he?"
"Mr. Thurston likes to dress to perfection," confided Jennifer, sotto voce. "Though I know not how he bears the expense on a tutor's salary. As to the war ..."
The earl pulled his length upright in the seat and pushed back his beaver from his brow. "Jen . . " he warned.
Mr. Griffin chuckled. "Jen? Jen? What kind of name is that for a young lad?"
"Jem," corrected Sinclair, suppressing a grin. "Master Jeremiah Scatterwell."
Jennifer shot him a look of horror, thinking the brandy from the previous night must have addled his brain, but, seeing only a gleam of amusement in his eye, she resigned herself to being the recipient of such an ignoble name.
The earl removed his hat, placing it upon one knee, and attempted to straighten his crumpled neck-cloth. It had been a devil of a job to change his clothing unaided the previous night, and it irked him that it had been tied with less than its customary precision, but under the circumstances it was unavoidable. His memory of the event that had led to this highly unconventional journey being somewh
at hazy, he attempted to put his thoughts into order. When full recollection came, he pondered the folly of setting out on such a mission. Certainly Freddie needed to be retrieved, but he should have insisted that Jennifer return home and then undertaken the journey alone. He couldn't believe that he'd been so foolish as to have agreed to her impulsive scheme.
When the coach arrived at its next stop and all the passengers alighted to partake of a light luncheon, Sinclair took hold of Jennifer's arm and propelled her toward the inn's private parlor, ordering the landlord to provide a hasty cold collation. As soon as the door closed in the man's wake, he spun her around, a distinct look of indignation on his face.
"Like to `dress to perfection,' do I? Don't know how I `bear the expense on a tutor's salary'?" he said. "May I point out to you, young lady, I am no coxcomb. I am known for my moderation in dress"
"If you will insist on traveling in clothes that proclaim the hand of a master tailor, what else could I have said?" she replied defiantly. "Some explanation needed to be given."
Releasing his hold on her arm, he sat on the settle. "Of course you're right," he replied. "Though I'm still not sure how I allowed you to involve me in this escapade in the first place. I am also known as a very rational man, and I can't believe I was so easily persuaded to go against all that is sensible."
"That's quite simple." She chuckled. "You were drunk, but surely you saw that I couldn't travel alone." Then, recollecting the issue, she demanded, "And may I ask why you felt the need to saddle me with the name of Jeremiah Scatterwell?"
Unrepentant, he grinned. "Jeremiah is a very noble name. There had to be some explanation for why I'd called you Jen"
"Does that mean I may now call you Ned, as the boys do?" she asked hopefully.
"No, my lady, it does not. Even a young gentleman as noble as Master Jeremiah Scatterwell would not be allowed to take such liberties with his tutor. It shall be Mr. Thurston. You must treat me with respect"
"Humph," she replied. "And what respect am I due?"
"None whatsoever, my dear. You are reduced to the rank of scrubby schoolboy. 'Twas your idea to masquerade as one, and so you shall be treated"
The Portrait Page 5