No, Lord Glynde’s willingness to make himself useful had absolutely nothing to do with his desire to be of service to her personally. Even if he was one of the few gentlemen in London not to be taken in by Annabel’s exquisite face, it didn’t follow that he would have any interest in her, and nor would she give him any encouragement if she even suspected that was the case. She made a point of not encouraging any gentleman who happened to spare her more than a passing glance, much to her mother’s chagrin. Besides, Lord Glynde had noticed her hand and been repelled by it. He hadn’t been able to look away quickly enough. But at least his reaction had killed any momentary attraction on Jemima’s part and she was now in full command of her senses once again.
She examined his profile in the periphery of her vision as he discussed her sister’s plight with Lord Torbay, occasionally making a contribution or suggestion herself when the conversation demanded. He was a tall gentleman with thick dark hair worn a little longer than fashion dictated and piercing brown eyes that glowed when he was amused. His features were chiselled, his cheekbones finely angled, his jaw as strong as the integrity she sensed he possessed. Jemima found herself in agreement with her sister, who had described Lord Glynde as being devastatingly and disarmingly attractive.
She recalled seeing him at her mother’s reception a week or so previously, the occasion upon which he had made such a strong impression upon Annabel. Jemima had liked what she saw too, which is why she had ensured their paths had not crossed in that crowded room. She had been surprised by the number of occasions upon which they had almost done so. As a general rule she found it easy to fade into the background, observing the proceedings, missing little, saying even less. It seemed that Lord Glynde preferred to remain on the periphery of a crowded room also, or would have done so had Annabel permitted him to hang back.
Annabel had breathlessly informed her later that evening that he was the Earl of Bray’s heir. His future wife would be a countess one day—a situation that would not satisfy their mother, who wanted her beautiful daughter to secure through marriage a higher title than that. Jemima sometimes thought that Mama sought to achieve her own thwarted ambitions, make recompense for lost opportunities, through her daughter. If Mama in her younger days had been as beautiful as Annabel, Jemima often wondered why she had settled for Papa—a gentleman of wealth and consequence but untitled and with little interest in the pleasures society had to offer; pleasures that completely absorbed her mother and sister.
It was not, as far as Jemima was able to detect, a love match—at least not on Mama’s part. Perhaps that was why she tried to convince herself that Lord Torbay had been, and still was, in love with her. She had not accepted his proposal, if he had actually offered for her, because he had not been heir to the Torbay estate and title at the time, and she held out in the hope of tempting his brother into declaring himself. But that had not happened and the brother had died, by which time it was too late for Mama to reignite Jake Morton’s passions. And so she settled for an aspiring politician, when she herself had little interest in and no understanding of even the most basic political issues.
It was a conundrum about which Jemima would never extract a truthful answer from her mother and a question she would never dare to put to her rather distant father. Any affection he felt for his family was reserved almost exclusively for Mama and Annabel.
Jemima sat a little straighter when an obvious connection occurred to her. Lord Glynde’s father was the Earl of Bray. Bray was in Ireland.
‘You are Irish?’ she blurted out, interrupting his discussion with Lord Torbay.
‘I still didn’t abduct your sister,’ he replied, a mischievous smile flirting with his lips. ‘Nor do I have much sympathy with Quinn’s activities.’
‘You do not think that the dispossessed Irish have a right to return to their tenancies?’ she asked in a combative tone, wondering why she was so determined to pick a fight with Lord Glynde when she was not in possession of all the facts and wasn’t even sure of her own opinion upon the subject.
‘Would that it were that simple,’ he replied with an easy smile. ‘The potato famine caused widespread hardship, as I’m sure you know, which has been attributed to an act of God. Be that as it may, bankrupt estates cannot support anyone.’
‘Perhaps not, but iniquitous English landlords should not have bought them up and evicted the poor tenants.’
‘There we are in agreement.’
‘Oh.’
‘My father purchased the estate that adjoins our own, but you will be pleased to learn that no one was evicted and he is actively working with the tenants to try and put the enterprise back on a solid financial footing. It will be many years before he manages to achieve that ambition, if he ever does, and not everyone supports his philanthropic attitude. Indeed, some are doing their very best to derail it.’
Jemima nodded her approval. ‘I have heard it said that the Almighty sent the blight, but the English created the famine.’ She smiled and felt her cheeks warm when she realised that everyone in the room was looking at her with varying degrees of admiration; none more so than Lord Glynde. ‘I can take no credit for being a deep thinker,’ she added hastily. ‘My father often entertains politicians in our home and I cannot help overhearing their conversations.’
‘We have strayed from the question of your sister, Miss Aitken,’ Lord Torbay reminded them all.
‘So we have. I apologise.’ Jemima folded her hands in her lap, not having to think about disguising the disfigured one beneath her normal right hand. To the others in the room she probably appeared callously unmoved by her sister’s plight, but that was not the case. Annabel would be terrified, but Jemima knew that if she had been taken for reasons of political expedience she would not be harmed. Besides, becoming hysterical would achieve nothing, other than to see her excluded from the search for Annabel. And she had an urgent desire to be included in it—if only to feel as if she was making a worthwhile contribution. Of course, that desire had nothing to be do with Lord Glynde involving himself in it.
Absolutely nothing at all.
Desire was a word that perfectly encapsulated her feelings for Lord Glynde, she was obliged to concede. Feelings that would best be put aside until she was at leisure to examine them in private. Never having been afflicted with desire for any man before, and being blessed with an analytical mind, Jemima would know no peace until she could account for the emotional turmoil that her fledging acquaintanceship with Lord Glynde had created.
‘Ros has kindly agreed to have a frank discussion with Quinn,’ Lord Torbay said. ‘I will take it upon myself to speak to all the young men involved in the excursion and see if any of them witnessed anything significant without realising it.’
‘Papa has already spoken to them and satisfied himself that none of them know anything about her disappearance,’ Jemima pointed out. ‘Will it not draw attention to a situation we are attempting to keep secret if you speak with them, Lord Torbay?’
‘I know all of their families and cannot convince myself that they will say anything out of turn, especially if they are anxious to make an impression upon your sister,’ Lord Torbay replied with an absent smile. ‘Besides, excuse me, but it is ordinarily the ladies who cannot keep a secret.’
Lady Torbay swatted her husband’s arm. ‘Much as I hate to admit it, he’s right on this occasion, but he need not be quite so smug about it.’
Lord Torbay bestowed a gentle smile upon his wife. One that made Jemima feel out of place and oddly restless. Accustomed to being left to her own devices by her negligent family, she had always supposed that she was content with her own company. But now, for the first time, she wondered how it would feel to be the recipient of such a look, delivered by a man whose regard she returned. She glanced at Lord Glynde, surprised to discover him watching her intently. She quickly looked away again, wondering if he too felt out of place in the company of man and wife so obviously deeply in love. If he was, it would
account for the fact that he had been watching her rather than the Torbays.
‘I will call upon Fiona Farrell,’ Jemima said, clearing her throat and recalling everyone’s attention to her. ‘It is possible that Annabel might have formed an attachment to a young man of whom Mama does not approve. My sister might give the appearance of being a model daughter, but she would not permit parental disapproval to stand in her way if there was someone’s society she especially craved.’
‘She is wilful?’ Lady Torbay asked.
Jemima considered the question. ‘I would imagine that she could be if she didn’t get her way. Oh, I do not speak out of spite or resentment, I am simply attempting to paint a picture of the side of Annabel’s character that few people ever see. I am afraid she has been over-indulged and is accustomed to getting whatever she wants. My father adores her and spoils her quite shamefully.’ Jemima sighed. ‘My point is, being denied her heart’s desire would be an alien concept for her and I am unsure how she would react if that situation arose.’
‘We appreciate your candour,’ Lord Torbay said softly.
‘Anyway, if I am right then Fiona is the person she is most likely to have confided in. She would not have said anything to me, since she knows I would remind her of her duty if she had decided to do something rash that might compromise her reputation and overset our mother.’
Lady Torbay nodded. ‘I will accompany you.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘I know you would prefer not to delay but it is too late to go today. The family will likely be dressing for dinner by now. Perhaps we could go together in the morning. It is not as though Miss Farrell will know where your sister is. If she did, she would have made that admission when she disappeared, even if she had been sworn to secrecy, so the delay will not signify.’
Jemima nodded, well aware that if Annabel was still alive, a few more hours would make no difference. She was still half inclined to think that she was living in blissful disgrace with her paramour, mindless of the trouble she had caused. But it would be a waste of breath to say so. No one other than Jemima and perhaps a few of their maids knew just how conniving she could actually be.
‘Very well.’ Jemima stood, as did both gentleman.
‘I will collect you in my carriage in the morning,’ Lady Torbay said, standing also and ringing the bell.
‘Thank you.’ Jemima turned to Lord Torbay. ‘And you too, sir. I am very much obliged to you.’ She bobbed a curtsey and then forced herself to meet Lord Glynde’s searing gaze. ‘I apologise once again for my ill-mannered remarks.’
He took her gloved hand and kissed the back of it. ‘You are forgiven,’ he said.
He looked up over the hand that he held in his—the withered one—and met her gaze. Jemima was horrified and wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Few people touched her hands, perhaps because they stupidly thought that the disability might be catching. But if they did, they made a point of touching her right. She knew Lord Glynde had observed her deformity and yet chose to make some sort of obscure point by embracing it. It was puzzling.
‘For now,’ he added in a tone so low that only she heard him.
Chapter Six
‘You wanted to talk to me about something.’ Jake sent Ros a polite look of enquiry once the door had closed behind Jemima.
‘It can wait.’ Actually it could not, but Ros would have to find another way to resolve the matter. ‘You clearly have your hands full with this investigation and I would not add to your burden.’
‘The situation is obviously pressing or you would not have asked to see me. You’ve made yourself useful more than once when I’ve needed discreet government intervention.’
‘True, but—’
‘It’s time for me to return the favour. Sit down again. Whisky?’
Ros inclined his head and resumed his seat, his expression uncompromisingly grim. Jake was right to insist, even if he didn’t yet realise it. Ros’s affairs were more closely linked with Aitken’s situation than either of them had previously realised. Ros had grossly underestimated the power and determination of the opposition, but it seemed that they could now perhaps help one another. ‘If you are absolutely sure, then thank you.’
‘I will leave you gentlemen to talk,’ Lady Torbay said.
‘No, ma’am. There is no need for you to go. In fact, you might find what I have to say insightful insofar as Miss Aitken’s situation is concerned.’ He rubbed the back of his neck and took a moment to consider the wider ramifications. ‘It worries me that Aitken and I both have problems relating to the Irish issue. I cannot persuade myself that it’s a coincidence.’
‘And yet Miss Aitken is not convinced that her sister’s disappearance is politically motivated,’ Jake said. ‘She seems to think that she has eloped with an unworthy.’
‘That is because she is not in possession of all the facts.’
Jake poured drinks for himself and Ros and took the seat beside his wife, who had declined Jake’s offer of refreshment.
‘I thought you looked concerned by Miss Aitken’s plight for reasons other than the delicacy of the situation,’ Jake said. ‘From what you have just said, it seems that you believe the Irish are definitely behind the abduction.’
Ros let out a slow, considered breath. ‘I cannot think of any other way in which a pampered young lady could disappear without leaving a trace.’
‘I tend to agree with you,’ Lady Torbay said. ‘The issue with the Irish is sensitive and becoming more so by the day, if even half of what I read in the newspapers is to be believed.’
‘For once the newspapers have underestimated the situation,’ Ros replied with a distracted frown. ‘Miss Aitken’s opinion of the shabby way in which Irish tenants have been treated is a widely held one that the government can’t afford to carry on ignoring.’
‘Even though they are not responsible for depriving the tenants of their livelihoods,’ Lady Torbay remarked.
‘They could have done more to relieve their suffering,’ Jake said, ‘but they couldn’t decide what, and eventually did nothing at all.’
Ros nodded his agreement. ‘Men like Quinn have taken advantage of the government’s vacillation and are responsible for the growing swell of support for an Irish republic in which Irish nationals will supposedly be better treated,’ he said. ‘An idealistic ambition better suited to fiction than the reality of the situation, but one that will find favour with those still in Ireland who are at their wits’ end, or others who have left but would like to return to the land of their birth with prospects for a better future.’
‘So I have been led to believe,’ Jake replied. ‘Desperate people are the easiest to manipulate because they have nothing left to lose. They seldom realise that those doing the manipulating are actually pursuing their own best interests.’
‘Exactly.’ Ros nodded decisively. ‘A number of influential Americans like the idea of creating disharmony between various factions within the United Kingdom. They are willing to throw money at radicals, increasing the possibility of civil unrest and creating problems for the delicately balanced coalition, certain divisions of which are not opposed to Quinn’s ideals.’
‘Money talks,’ Lady Torbay said, wrinkling her nose. ‘But the government chose to ignore the plight of the displaced tenants so they only have themselves to blame. The British Empire will always be a target for those with an axe to grind, and carelessly ignoring the displaced Irish has given those who wish to see the empire’s authority weakened a good opportunity to cause mayhem.’
‘I understand why the prime minister appreciates your expertise on such a sensitive issue, Ros,’ Jake said, rubbing his lips with the side of his hand, ‘but I suspect you did not come here to ask my advice on a situation that you understand a great deal better than I ever will.’
Ros smiled. ‘No, my problems are of a more personal nature.’ He paused to take a sip of his drink and a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘As I told Miss Aitken, my
father has recently purchased the estate that adjoins his own in Ireland and is working with his tenants to restore their livelihoods—at no small expense to himself, I might add. It will be many years before the enlarged estate turns a profit, or the tenants themselves become self-sufficient again, for that matter.’
‘Then he is to be congratulated for attempting it,’ Lady Torbay remarked. ‘Few Englishmen have purchased those estates with anything other than their own greed in mind.’
‘Father fully intends to benefit, but he is willing to bide his time. But others, it transpires, are equally determined to ensure that he fails.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Jake nodded emphatically. ‘He has been threatened by those who don’t want the English showing themselves in a good light, I take it.’
‘Not at first. It was the tenants themselves who became nervous. Made excuses not to see projects through. They seemed evasive, secretive. When pressed by Father’s steward, they admitted that they had been actively encouraged not to participate in the estate’s regeneration.’
‘By whom?’ Lady Torbay asked.
‘By very persuasive people who were not above using intimidation to get their way. The leading lights among the tenants tried to persuade the others to stand firm and not get involved in complex political issues. They were rewarded by having their homes ransacked and their womenfolk threatened.’
Elegance and Grace Page 6