by S. G. Rogers
Logan and Hawkins trotted along the track, pausing frequently to greet persons they knew. All of the young ladies sat up straighter in their sidesaddles when Logan approached. The girls sent appreciative glances and dazzling smiles his way, until their chaperones shooed their charges along. Hawkins was not without admirers. To his dismay, the three Ogleby sisters rode their matched trio of Palomino ponies across his path, along with their ambitious mother. Logan laughed inwardly as he waited for Hawkins to artfully fend off a naked solicitation to call at the Ogleby household the following afternoon.
Tuxano pawed the sand beneath his hooves and tossed his head as another pair of female riders drew close. Logan glanced over, and his stomach dropped. Miss Sophia Watkins was gazing at him as if she were a beautiful, spoiled cat contemplating a bowl of cream. Worse, she was in the company of Miss Roring.
Jillian’s heart began to pound long before Logan happened to see her. From many yards away, his broad shoulders and athletic frame could perhaps be mistaken for someone else—but his mount Tuxano could not. What is Mr. Logan doing here? I thought he’d foresworn society altogether. When Sophia directed her mount toward Tuxano, Jillian had little choice but to follow.
As they approached, Logan lifted his hat in greeting.
“Good afternoon, Miss Watkins.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Logan,” Sophia replied.
When Logan’s eyes slid past Sophia and locked onto Jillian, a surge of pleasure ran down her spine. She fought to keep her countenance. I must not appear to know him.
“Jillian, allow me to introduce Mr. Logan to you. Mr. Logan, this is my friend, Miss Roring.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Roring.”
“Thank you, Mr. Logan,” Jillian replied.
“Have you been in town long, sir?” Sophia asked.
“Since yesterday. I expect you are looking forward to the delights of the Season?”
“Indeed I am, as is Miss Roring.”
A fair-haired gentlemen on a chestnut stallion joined Logan at that moment.
“Miss Watkins! What a pleasant surprise.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins.”
Sophia introduced Jillian to Hawkins, whose merry smile invited one of her own.
“It’s a pleasure, sir,” Jillian said.
Although both men were very handsome, the differences between the two were marked. Hawkins was instantly congenial and friendly whereas Logan was somewhat broody and reserved. Yet Jillian found her eyes drawn inexorably to Logan, almost like a flower reaching toward the sun.
“Tell me, Miss Roring, why have I never happened to see you before?” Hawkins asked.
“I was raised in Gloucester.”
“Why that’s not terribly far from my estate in the Cotswolds! Logan and I are neighbors, in fact.”
Logan cleared his throat. “Perhaps—”
But Mrs. Watkins rode up then, and whatever Logan had been meaning to say was lost in another round of greetings, pleasantries, and then farewells. Although etiquette demanded Jillian not look back after she’d ridden on, she could not help stealing the briefest of glimpses. Logan was watching as she rode away—or was he watching Sophia?
Hawkins gave Logan a sympathetic smile. “That was unfortunate, meeting Miss Watkins so soon.”
“Perhaps since I was dreading it, it was for the best. At least it’s over now.”
“Her friend Miss Roring is very striking indeed.”
“If you intend to woo her along with Miss Fairley and Miss Heathrow, you will be quite busy.”
“If I didn’t know better, I would say your voice had a bit of an edge just now. Might I detect some interest in the girl yourself?”
“No. I’ve already told you I intend to remain unmarried.”
Hawkins chortled. “I don’t believe that.”
“As you like.”
“All is fair in love and war, my friend. I say we both throw our hats into the ring and see which one of us the young lady prefers.”
“Miss Roring is hardly a game of billiards!”
“You should hope not. Otherwise, you will lose. Besides which, it’s bad luck for you she’s a good friend of Miss Watkins.”
“Miss Roring cannot be a particular friend of Miss Watkins if she is just arrived to town. Besides which, since it was Miss Watkins who broke off our engagement, she can have nothing ill to say about my behavior to poison the well.”
Jillian’s feelings were tied in knots. What had brought Logan back to London, after he claimed he had no business here? His expression and manner upon their meeting had given her no clue whatsoever. Perhaps he wishes to renew his offer to Sophia after all. If so, she does not deserve him.
Sophia urged her pony closer to Jillian’s, so their conversation could not easily be overheard. “I was engaged to Mr. Logan briefly, last Season.”
Jillian feigned surprise. “Were you?”
“Mr. Logan is a heartless, incorrigible rake.”
Started, Jillian gave Sophia a sharp look. “I don’t know him at all, of course, but he appears to be gentlemanly.”
“Appearances don’t always tell the whole story. I would ordinarily say nothing, but since you seem quite taken with him, I would not be a good friend if I didn’t warn you.” Jillian felt her face grow hot. “If my behavior just now indicated I was taken with Mr. Logan, I am mortified!”
“Oh, it was obvious only to me, I assure you.”
Jillian and Sophia rode on for a few moments in silence.
“Well…what leads you to say Mr. Logan is a rake?” Jillian asked finally.
“See? I knew you were taken with him.”
“I am not taken with him! We’ve only just met!”
“Mr. Logan seizes every opportunity to maneuver pretty girls into dark corners and empty rooms to take liberties with them.”
In response, Jillian gasped. “No!”
“And that is why I broke our engagement.”
Jillian’s hands trembled. Could Sophia be speaking the truth?
“I-I’m…shocked.”
“Any girl wed to Mr. Logan can expect to have a loveless marriage.”
“Surely not.”
“Which is why I mean to secure him as soon as possible.”
Jillian gulped. “What did you say?”
“I’ve had a change of heart. Since I refused Mr. Logan, I’ve had months to contemplate my future. I finally realized love has nothing to do with marriage.”
“That’s what my aunt says, too.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“It’s just that, well, I mean to marry for love.”
“Then for pity’s sake, steer clear of Mr. Logan before he sullies your reputation. A misstep would prove fatal to your chances to make a good match.”
“But you mean to marry him, Sophia. What of your reputation?”
“My reputation is well guarded. You, my dear friend, are a new, fresh face. Mrs. Adams told me of your background. Although you have a vast fortune, you’ve no powerful connections to recommend you.”
“My mother was the daughter of a gentleman!”
“Oh, you’re a dear sweet thing, aren’t you? Every girl who circulates in society is at least the daughter of a gentleman.”
“M-My uncle has been knighted.”
Sophia gave her a sidelong glance. “Oh, Jillian, I could throw a rock and hit half a dozen gentlemen of the knighthood right now.” She paused. “I give you leave to like Mr. Hawkins. Of him, I have nothing ill to say.”
Speechless, Jillian stared straight ahead. She’d begun her ride on Rotten Row cheerful and joyous. Now, however, she felt belittled and insignificant. Preoccupied and unsettled, the remainder of the afternoon’s ride flew by in a blur. Sophia introduced her to several more gentlemen and a score of ladies, but a sudden, lancing headache made it difficult for Jillian to remember every name.
Sophia’s accusation toward Logan disturbed her more than she cared to admit. The man had always
acted in a gentlemanly manner in Jillian’s presence, but the fact of the broken engagement seemed to support Sophia’s assertion. Jillian thought back to that moment in the Idunn Court library when his hand had brushed hers. If Logan had leaned in to kiss her just then, she would have let him. No, she would have welcomed it—but he had not. Yet according to Sophia, he’d been claiming kisses freely all over London. Jillian could only conclude Logan did not find her attractive enough to bother. Perhaps next to Sophia’s vibrant beauty, she suffered by comparison.
So Mr. Logan, with his wicked Gypsy eyes, is fond of ruining reputations is he? He may deserve Sophia after all.
After debating whether or not to dine that evening at The Athenaeum or Boodle’s, Logan and Hawkins wound up at White’s. While relaxing after dinner with a brandy, Logan suffered through some good-natured ribbing from his circle of friends about his broken engagement.
“It’s well and good you’ve come back to town, Logan,” said Lord Yardley. “Watching the ladies vie for your attention has always been amusing. Now that you’re available again, this Season should be the most contentious ever.”
Sir James laughed. “Having Miss Watkins slip through your fingers was a hard blow indeed. You must score a triumph to reclaim your dignity.”
“I know just the thing!” Nelson exclaimed. “I happened across Miss Watkins as she was riding on Rotten Row this afternoon. She had a most beautiful companion…whose name I cannot now recall.”
“Miss Roring,” Hawkins supplied.
“That’s it!” Nelson said. “Whoever manages to win her favor will be a fortunate man indeed.”
“Yes, I met her today as well,” Sir James said. “I was instantly smitten.”
“As was I,” Hawkins said. “I believe Miss Roring may be sweet Bianca to Miss Watkins’s Katherina.”
“If you wish to set Logan on her, Nelson, I’m afraid he will have some competition from me!” Sir James said.
“And me,” Hawkins said.
“What good sport!” exclaimed Nelson. “Even money on Logan.”
Logan frowned. “Now see here! I refuse to be part of any wager where Miss Roring is concerned.”
Sir James gave Logan a sly glance. “Has Miss Watkins turned our prize stallion into a gelding?”
Boisterous laughter, lubricated by wine and spirits, filled the room.
“Not in the least,” Logan said when the din ebbed. “It just that Miss Roring is a lady worth more than any wager.”
“Oh, ho! You speak as if you know her, Logan. Is she a woman of title or property?” Sir James asked.
“My introduction to Miss Roring today was brief, as Hawkins will attest,” Logan said. “As to her lineage or property, I cannot speak.” Or rather, I will not speak.
“Dash it all,” Sir James said.
“What are you going on about, Sir James?” Hawkins said. “Since you have both lineage and property, you can afford to marry for less material considerations.”
“True, but there’s the additional question of the girl’s reputation,” Sir James replied.
“It will all come out in due course, but Miss Roring seems quite properly demure,” Hawkins said.
Nelson raised his glass in a toast. “Gentlemen, I sense a competition heating up. Here’s to the courtship of Miss Roring…May the best chap prevail!”
As their friends and acquaintances drank, Logan and Hawkins exchanged a rueful glance.
“What did I say to provoke such rivalry?” Logan asked.
“You waved a red flag in front of a field of bulls, I’m afraid,” Hawkins replied.
“Blast it.”
George emerged from the Red Star Line ticket office and headed down the wharf with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Frustrated, he kicked at a pebble. How was he going to break the news to his sister they couldn’t leave for America until July? Worse, how were they to pay for their lodgings at that fancy bed and breakfast for two more months? They’d just have to sell those gold earbobs and hatpin Betsy had been so jealously guarding.
When he reached the sidewalk, George glanced over to discover Sam Netherby was walking straight toward him. As if George had shouted out his name, Sam’s head jerked up. When he recognized George, Sam’s eyes widened, and then narrowed in anger.
“Oh, bollocks!” George muttered.
He darted across the street with Sam in pursuit. As he ducked into an alley, he narrowly missed a horse and carriage rolling past. Fortunately, the rig delayed Sam long enough for George to make a clean getaway. He zigzagged his way south and west for fifteen minutes until he was sure he’d lost Sam altogether. Breathing hard, George slowed into a stroll, wiped his brow, and straightened his new clothes. He’d reached a nicer part of Liverpool and didn’t want to be stopped by coppers or mistaken for a scoundrel.
Betsy was sitting next to the window, knitting, when he entered their room. A look of anxiety crossed her face when she saw his disheveled state.
“What’s wrong?”
George tossed his bowler hat onto the bed and flopped into a chair.
“I saw Sam.”
She gasped. “What happened?”
“I ran, of course. I don’t think he trailed me here, but he won’t stop scourin’ Liverpool until he finds us.”
“Did ye get the tickets?”
“There’s nothin’ but first class tickets left on the S/S Belgenland, Betsy. We can’t afford two, and the next ship won’t leave till July.”
Betsy’s eyes filled with tears.
“Now, lass, let’s have none of that.” He leaned forward. “Here’s what we’re goin’ ter do. I’m goin’ back ter the ticket office and buy ye first class passage to Philadelphia. The ship leaves in a few days and we can hide from Sam until then.”
“But, George, what about ye?”
“Ach, I’d only weigh ye down, Betsy. Here ye are, lookin’ all fine, like a real lady. Even in this new suit, I can’t pass for a flash toff.”
“Georgie, we were goin’ ter stick together!”
“Truth be told, darlin’, I never wanted to leave England. Don’t worry about me. I’ll go back ter the East End and make my way somehow. Maybe I really will take ter the stage. Ye can write ter me when ye get settled in America…if ye ever learn to write.”
With a wink and a nod, George reached out his hand to his sister. Crying, Betsy grasped his hand as if she would never let it go.
Chapter Seven
Bleak House
SEVERAL HATBOXES LAY OPEN on Jillian’s bed, revealing merry bits of colored straw, feathers, and ribbons fashioned into concoctions designed to catch a gentleman’s eye. Jillian sat at her dressing table with one such creation on her hair. She cocked her head to one side as she gazed into the mirror, trying to decide which was the most fetching angle to wear her new three-cornered Marquis hat.
Aunt Letty’s maid tapped on her door. “Excuse me, miss. A Sir James has come to call.”
“Thank you, Alice.” Jillian handed her the Marquis hat. “Could you put this away for me?”
As she descended the stairs to the drawing room, Jillian sought to remember where she’d met a Sir James. Fortunately, she recognized him right away as one of the young men she’d met during her ride on Rotten Row.
“Jillian, Sir James informs me that Miss Watkins has already introduced you,” Aunt Letty said.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Roring.” He gave her a bow.
Jillian returned his bow with a curtsy. She lowered herself into a chair, and he resumed his seat on the horsehair sofa.
“I was just telling Mrs. Marsh how fortuitous it was I should happen to see you both out shopping earlier today,” he said. “My club is on Bond Street.”
“Ah, yes, this morning my aunt took me to one of the best milliners in London. We lunched afterward at the Empress ladies club on Dover Street. I had a lovely time.”
“I’m so glad.”
Sir James spent the next few minutes recommending various merchants an
d places of interest around town. Exactly fifteen minutes later, he took his leave. Aunt Letty waited to speak until after the front door had closed.
“It seems you’ve made an impression, Jillian. Sir James never would have called upon me if you were not here. Do you like him?”
“He is amiable.” Jillian paused. “Erm…perhaps I should have mentioned before, Sophia and I also met Mr. Logan in the park yesterday.”
“What?”
“Don’t be concerned, Aunt. He and I both behaved as if it was our first introduction.”
“That is not the reason for my surprise. I can’t help but wonder why Mr. Logan would travel to town unless he means to pursue you?”
“I’m certain he will not. Sophia has changed her mind and says she will accept him after all.”
“I would be shocked if he renews his offer to her.”
“She is extraordinarily beautiful, Aunt.”
“As are you.”
“That, perhaps, is in the eye of the beholder. And Sophia informs me my connections are insignificant.”
“Her connections are no better than yours…and she is a jilt.”
“She says Mr. Logan is a rake.”
“That is his reputation, I’ll grant you. But now that I’ve met him, I am not so certain it is accurate.”
“You think not?” A weight lifted from Jillian’s shoulders. “I suppose I should reserve judgment then.”
“That would be wise. You cannot rely on Miss Watkins to be wholly disinterested in her assertions about Mr. Logan. She may rightly view you as competition.”
“How silly.”
“Tell Sarah to lay out something pretty for you to wear tonight. We are attending a play at Toole’s Theatre.”
“How marvelous! I look forward to some diverting entertainment.”
“It is not the time to relax, my girl. Make no mistake, until you are engaged, you are on constant display.”
In the lobby of the theatre, Aunt Letty made sure to introduce Jillian to her beautifully dressed friends. They, in turn, introduced her to their sons and daughters.