‘Let’s hope that Annabel recovers,’ Jake said. He stood and poured brandy for himself and Ros, who took the proffered glass from his hand with a nod of thanks. He glanced at Lady Torbay, presumably wanting to know if she would like wine, and she shook her head. Such was the level of understanding between Jake and his countess, Ros had already noticed, that they often communicated without the need for actual words. Ros knew a moment’s envy and wondered how it would feel to meet a soulmate of his own, someone to whom he could transmit his innermost thoughts and aspirations through a simple glance. He chased the thought away. Now was not the time for fanciful speculation. ‘Then perhaps she will be able to tell us the precise details of her ordeal, where she was taken and who she saw there. I don’t suppose they minded about her seeing them, given that she was not supposed to survive.’
The door opened to admit Atkin, who looked pale yet composed. Ros was sorry not to see Jemima with him. Presumably Atkin had forbidden her to be a party to their discussions, which would be typical of his narrow-mindedness. Jemima would have valuable suggestions to make. His disappointment proved to be short lived, however, when Jemima followed her father through the door a few seconds later and thanked the footman who closed it behind her.
‘I am much obliged to you, Torbay,’ Aitken said, ‘for your presence of mind and for allowing my daughter to remain her unless…until—’ He cleared his throat and blinked several times. ‘I am grateful to you both,’ he said, inclining his head in Lady Torbay’s direction and taking the seat she gestured him towards. Ros, who had stood when Jemima returned, was pleased when she settled on the opposite end of the settee that he occupied. He winked at her as he sat down again and was delighted when her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink, implying that she was not entirely indifferent to his attentions, inappropriate though such thoughts were at that precise moment. She would pounce on any distraction, he told himself as he settled into a comfortable position, half-turned towards Jemima with his arm casually draped along the arm of the sofa.
‘We were glad to be able to help,’ Lady Torbay assured him. ‘How did you find her?’
Aitken shook his head. ‘She is still alive, but if she survives this ordeal, she will never be the same carefree young thing that she once was. It’s a tragedy, there can be no two opinions on that score. But what I can do to rectify the matter is less clear.’ He too accepted an offer of brandy and took a healthy swig when it was delivered to him. ‘I have your assurance, Glynde, that you know nothing of this matter?’
Ros tamped down his indignation and gave the required assurance in a clipped tone. ‘I am not in the habit of abducting young women, sir,’ he said eventually.
‘No, no, of course not. I didn’t suppose that you were but the question had to be asked.’
Aitken listened to Jemima’s account of her conversation with Fiona Farrell, paling more with every word that passed her lips.
‘Quinn,’ he breathed between clenched teeth. ‘The man will be the death of me.’
‘You have no difficulty in believing him capable of such behaviour?’ Lady Torbay asked.
‘None whatsoever. He is a silver-tongued devil, handsome and arrogantly self-assured. A great favourite with the ladies and passionate about his cause. He almost has me believing him at times, and I am fully acquainted with his history of violence and dissidence. He would have noticed Annabel’s fascination with him and recognised an opportunity.’ Aitken clenched his fist and hammered it against the arm of his chair. ‘The powers that be thought it sensible to treat him with civility, including him in our social activities much as wealthy Bostonians do in America. I was told that he expected to be ostracised and would use it as a weapon to beat us with.’ His features filled with rage. ‘But now the damage is done, at least for Annabel.’
Ros explained why they thought she had been left to die in his rooms. ‘An extravagant ploy to make me have my father dance to their tune,’ he said.
Aitken grunted. ‘Very likely.’
They talked around the matter for over an hour but resolved nothing.
‘To summarise,’ Jake eventually said. ‘We all agree that Quinn is behind this atrocity, but we cannot possibly prove it. With great good fortune, Miss Aitken will recover and be able to confirm it, but she can hardly publicly declaim him without ruining her own reputation.’
‘What’s left of it,’ Aitken said with another grunt. ‘Even so, I agree with you, but what is the alternative?’
‘We know someone was watching Ros’s rooms,’ Jake said, ‘and so Quinn will be aware by now that his plan hasn’t worked and that Annabel was rescued. He will probably also know that she has been brought here. He seems to have eyes and ears everywhere. Anyway, I shall make it my business to ensure that he does learn of her whereabouts. Or rather, Parker will. But he won’t know whether she has survived or what she has told us. None of my servants can be bribed and will only reveal as much as I tell them to, I can assure you of that much. So he will be desperate for news and I think it only reasonable that we afford him the opportunity to gain it.’
Lady Torbay smiled as her husband fixed her with a speaking look. ‘The party I was planning. I thought I should cancel it, given the circumstances, but if you would prefer for it to go ahead and for Quinn to somehow be invited…’
‘Exactly so.’ Jake returned her smile. ‘Young Riley Rochester and his father are in town at present. He came to see us the other day, protesting that his father had brought up a bankrupt Irish estate and was turning out tenants who couldn’t afford their rents. Needless to say, they disagree violently on the matter but Chichester is still attempting to mend fences with his younger son following that debacle last year that caused Riley to look upon him with contempt. Riley takes an active interest in politics. If you will permit me to explain the situation to him, Aitken, I can assure you that he is the last word in discretion, despite his youth. He will jump at the chance to tell his father that we have invited you to our party and that—’
‘And that I am not averse to seeing Quinn here and attempting to find common ground between us in a less formal setting,’ Aitken added.
‘Where such deals are mostly thrashed out,’ Lady Torbay said with a wry smile.
‘Quite. Chichester will move heaven and earth to ensure that Quinn attends, in the hope that Riley will see his point of view, and we know that Quinn will be equally keen to come,’ Jake said.
‘All well and good, but you cannot be here, Jemima,’ Aitken said. ‘It will be too dangerous for you.’
‘Nonsense, Papa,’ she replied with asperity. ‘No one will attempt to kidnap me. Besides, I am better protected here than anywhere else and I might even persuade Quinn to relax his guard around me.’
Ros frowned, not liking the idea and half inclined to throw his weight behind her father’s objections. But then again, he sensed her need to be involved and would be here himself to protect her with his dying breath.
‘Besides,’ Jemima continued. ‘Quinn is bound to try and talk to me, if only to gain information about Annabel. I can give the impression of being witless and easily impressed, hard though it might be for you to believe.’ Everyone laugh, excluding Aitken. ‘Since he is accustomed to females of all ages falling for his charm, he won’t doubt that I am captivated by him, and perhaps I can turn the tables and learn something from him.’
Ros’s earlier frowned returned with interest and he somehow managed not to warn her against doing anything half so foolhardy. That was a warning that would be better left, and easier to emphasise, when they were next alone. Someone had to get it through her rather attractive, albeit stubborn little head that this situation was dangerous. Deadly dangerous. Her sister’s situation ought to have made her realise just how ambitiously ruthless these people actually were.
‘Very well,’ Aitken said with an exaggerated sigh. ‘Have it your way. You can attend, Jemima, but you are not to expose yourself to danger.’
‘Na
turally not, Papa,’ she said, with a sweetness that immediately made Ros suspicious. The minx was plotting something. He’d wager half his fortune on the fact.
‘I shall not bring my wife to the party, if you don’t mind, Torbay. She isn’t up to it.’
‘We quite understand,’ Lady Torbay said graciously.
‘You cannot tell her that Annabel has been found either, Papa,’ Jemima pointed out. ‘She will have to remain in ignorance for a little longer, for her own sake.’
Chapter Eleven
Jemima watched her father depart with a feeling of unmitigated relief, disappointed but not surprised by his priorities. Not once had he shown any particular concern for her welfare. He had failed to realise that she was the one who had been exposed to the raw and shocking truth of Annabel’s ordeal—a sight that would severely affect the sensibilities of the strongest of women. She had thought herself immune to her father’s indifference, but on this occasion it had cut to the quick. The circumstances were so dire that she had foolishly imagined he would put his family first for once, but it was obvious now that nothing had really changed. They said that people showed their true colours in times of crisis, and her father had certainly made his feelings—or lack of them—crystal clear.
Jemima straightened her shoulders and let out a slow breath. The favoured daughter who could wrap their papa around her little finger with her pretty manners and winning smiles was now damaged goods, and Papa would bear his loss with his customary stoicism. It didn’t seem to have occurred to him that he had another daughter whose behaviour was beyond reproach. But, Jemima reflected, one could not force the heart to feel what it did not. Annabel probably reminded Papa of his wife when she had been young. The lady who’d had men worshipping at her feet, and yet when Papa beat the opposition to the prize, he soon came to realise that he was second best in Mama’s eyes. But he had at least been able to bask in Annabel’s popularity and watch her shine. Now that pleasure had been stolen from him by his political enemies. Jemima felt very sorry for a lonely, insular man who didn’t know how to display affection.
Parker appeared to discuss the situation with Lord Torbay in a huddled aside. Olivia excused herself because she was needed in the nursery. Jemima glanced at the one remaining person in the commodious room, acutely aware that she and Lord Glynde were now alone. She was surprised to discover that his gaze was focused upon her, slumbering and considerate. His expression reflected the type of concern she had idealistically hoped to see in her father. Flustered and confused, she looked away, aware that she ought to return to Annabel. She would do so directly, but first she had an apology to make and would never find a better opportunity. Besides, if she didn’t do so now she might lose her nerve. Thus resolved, Jemima wandered through the drawing room doors into a small ante-room, somehow confident that Lord Glynde would follow her there.
‘What are you plotting?’
He moved with the stealth of a cat. She had not realised he was so close behind her and the sound of his deep, arresting voice startled her.
‘I need to apologise,’ she said, the words tumbling out faster than the beat of her racing heart. ‘I…that is, when I first saw Annabel in your rooms I…’ She looked up at him through widened eyes, startled by the potency of his languorous gaze, and let out a slow breath. ‘Oh dear, this is harder than I supposed.’
‘You assumed I was the guilty party,’ he suggested.
‘Well, yes.’ She bit her lower lip and dropped her head. ‘I am so very sorry. Of course you are incapable of doing anything half so iniquitous.’
An unholy light now illuminated his eyes and he appeared distinctly amused. ‘You give me too much credit. I am very capable of behaving wickedly when the need arises.’
‘Oh, do stop making a joke of it! I am trying to apologise, you impossible man, and you are making it very difficult for me.’
His deep, throaty chuckle seemed to vibrate through her entire body. ‘You only have yourself to blame for that. You are irresistible when embarrassed.’
‘If that was meant as a compliment,’ she replied crisply, aware of her cheeks burning and cursing her inability to control her reaction to his blatant flirting, ‘then you mistake me for my sister. I have no desire to make myself irresistible.’
‘Ah, of course you do not. That is what I find so…well, irresistible about you.’ His smile was pure, predatory male and caused Jemima’s insides to quake in a most peculiar fashion. ‘You are unlike any other female I have encountered and you intrigue me. However, please feel free to continue with your apology.’
She shook a finger at him. ‘You are enjoying my discomfort. Be that as it may, and despite your other faults, which I am perfectly sure are copious, I know you did not abduct my sister and I am sorry if the shock of seeing her in your rooms caused that possibility to very briefly lodge itself inside my head.’
‘It was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make, so no apology is necessary. She was, as you say, in my rooms so it stands to reason I must have persuaded her to occupy them. In your situation I would have thought the exact same thing. And just so that you are aware, I greatly admired the calm manner in which you handled the shocking truth. It cannot have been easy for you to see your sister in the state she was in, and your father ought to have complimented you on your presence of mind.’ There was no response that Jemima could make to that particular truth and so she contented herself by simply lifting one shoulder. ‘Be that as it may, I am very glad that you have decided you were wrong about me.’
‘I have. On this subject, at least.’
Lord Glynde offered her a pained look that didn’t entire disguise his amusement. ‘Ah, a reprieve in name only.’
Jemima was enjoying the exchange a little too much. Her sister was fighting for her life in a room above their heads, but instead of sitting with her, encouraging her to win that most crucial of battles, she was loitering here instead, exchanging verbal barbs with a master of the art. A battle that she didn’t have a hope of winning. But still, she reasoned, Annabel would approve. There was nothing more important in her sister’s book than flirting with a handsome man. And that was what Jemima was doing, she realised with a jolt. She was flirting for the first time in her life. She hadn’t thought she knew how to, and it surprised her to discover just how instinctively it came to her. All that was required, it seemed, was the attention of a man whose society one enjoyed, a modicum of privacy, and the rest came naturally.
‘What is being done to fix your hand?’ he asked in a change of subject so abrupt that it took her completely by surprise. He picked up the injured limb and gently squeezed her fingers.
‘There is nothing to be done.’ It was as though he had just thrown cold water in her face and she suddenly felt absolutely no desire to flirt with him. ‘I have already told you. I broke my wrist and the bones have not set right.’
‘They can be reset,’ he replied without an ounce of the sympathy she was accustomed to receiving and so despised. ‘Or if you would prefer to avoid that temporary discomfort, there are exercises you can do to strengthen your fingers. The muscles have atrophied through lack of use, I would imagine. There are plenty of good doctors who can help you. I am surprised your mother has not already referred you to one.’
Jemima turned away from him, her face aflame with embarrassment. ‘That is because you do not know my mother.’
‘Or because you don’t want your hand fixed. If it’s put right, you will have no excuse not to show yourself in society. Not that the hand is any excuse at all, but you have made it into one.’
She gave him a look of stark astonishment. He was the first, the only person, to have guessed her ruse, and she barely knew him. ‘Are you always so intrusive with your questions?’
‘Only when the subject of those questions interests me.’
Jemima gave a shrill laugh. ‘There is absolutely nothing interesting about me.’
‘Allow me to be the judge of that.’<
br />
She tossed her head, pretending to take offence when in actual fact she had put her annoyance behind her and was revelling in a degree of attention she was unaccustomed to receiving. ‘As though I could prevent you.’
‘You have still not told me how you came to break your wrist in the first place.’
‘I fell.’ Jemima shrugged. ‘There is nothing more to tell.’
‘There is always more, and I suspect that your story is long overdue for the telling.’
How does he know? ‘You mistake the matter.’
‘You have permitted your sister to overshadow you for too long,’ he said softly, ‘and have become self-effacing as a consequence.’
‘You possess a very quick mind, Lord Glynde—’
‘Ros. If we are to be friends you must call me Ros.’
Startled by the invitation, Jemima’s initial reaction was to primly decline. But primness and abiding by society’s rules did not sit comfortably with Jemima. Besides, being with Ros made her feel anything but prim. Instead she felt cossetted, reckless, feminine, interesting…attractive even. Well, attractive was an exaggeration, but she certainly felt vindicated in her disregard for the rules of conduct. Rules which she was sure that Ros found equally ridiculous and needlessly restricting.
‘You possess a very quick mind, Ros,’ she said, rolling his name experimentally over her tongue and enjoying the taste of it, ‘but it does not seem to have occurred to you that it suits my purpose to be overshadowed. I have no interest in dancing, parties and empty chatter. I cannot embroider. Nor do I sketch or play any musical instruments.’
‘Shocking!’ he replied, laugher in his eyes.
‘I much prefer my books, riding, country walks and solitary occupations that have no place within the echelons of a society that depends upon crowds and…well, all the things I am not good at.’
‘Be careful, my sweet, or I might think that you threw yourself down the stairs simply to avoid being presented.’
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