by Claudia Dain
“I do indeed, Miss Elliot,” Penrith said. He truly did have the most astounding voice. It put one in mind of a velvet cat. “She’s abroad at present.”
“As am I,” Jane said pleasantly. “I’m certain you must want her to have all sorts of marvelous adventures while she’s exploring foreign shores. Don’t you?”
Penrith looked quite uncomfortably pensive for a moment and then answered, “Well, not all sorts.”
“You are thinking of men, Lord Penrith,” Jane said, because that is precisely what she was thinking and what she therefore said. This was wonderful fun. Why hadn’t she ever done this before now? “Brothers are always so terribly worried about men when they think of their sisters, but it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Certainly not all men are troublesome and certainly even a brother must want his sister to be attractive to men, because doesn’t a brother want to see his sister happy and well married? I don’t suppose you can have any argument against that for your sister, can you?
What is her name, by the way?”
Penrith looked positively stricken. Jane was nearly afraid he’d bolt across the room to find shelter in the safe company of Mr. Prestwick and Lord Raithby. Penrith rallied and stayed at her side, brave fellow.
“Her name is Charlotte. Charlotte Aubourn. She is just sixteen and far too young to be considering marriage or men or . . . happiness.”
Jane looked at Penrith askance. “Lord Penrith, I am so sorry to disillusion you, but at sixteen your sister is already considering all of that, and in particular she is wondering if she is attractive to men. How could you have thought otherwise? Don’t you look at sixteen-year-old girls and conclude if they are attractive or not? And are you somehow ignorant of the fact that these sixteen-year-old girls are aware of your presence and perusal? Dear Lord Penrith, you cannot possibly be that naïve.”
From the look on Penrith’s face it did indeed appear that he had never thought of that and, what’s more, no one had ever, or at least not in a very long time, implied that he was naïve.
“Miss Elliot, you are frightening me,” he said softly, looking at her almost comically. “It cannot be so different in America, can it? When a man takes a turn about the room with a beautiful woman, he does not care to discuss his sister, and who may or may not be escorting her about in some distant room in the same instant. It’s most distracting.”
“I do apologize, Lord Penrith,” she said, grinning. “I have no wish to distract you. No, in fact, I want you to be at your most fully alert. I am a sister, Lord Penrith, and I have brothers who are very much like you, only perhaps not nearly so civilized, and I want to enjoy myself with a handsome man before they can stop me. Are you willing, Lord Penrith?”
Penrith stopped to stare down into her eyes. They were just inside the music room, which had filled up quite considerably since her last visit to this room, meaning there were no empty chairs, which was most disheartening as her feet were starting to hurt, when she saw Edenham loitering by the doorway into the antechamber, talking to her cousin Henry.
“I am not to be that man, am I?” he asked, looking not nearly as disappointed as she would have liked.
“I’m afraid not. You don’t mind? I’m not going to be in London for very long and I do feel that I must direct my attention extremely precisely, in the interest of time only. I do find you exquisitely attractive. I want you to know that.”
Penrith smiled, nearly laughed really, and said, “It has been my express wish since a small child to be found exquisitely attractive, Miss Elliot. Thank you.”
“Oh, you’re making fun, but I don’t want you to feel slighted. You don’t, do you?”
“Quite the reverse, Miss Elliot. Now what horrors do you plan to visit upon Edenham and how would you like me to help? It won’t require that I get a torn face, will it? I should so hate to disrupt my exquisiteness for even a day.”
“Not even for the dash of a smallish scar, Lord Penrith?”
she said, laughing softly. “Don’t disappoint me now. I did believe every word you said.”
“You did not,” he said, chuckling. “You did not and you do not, Miss Elliot. I must say you give every appearance of being incorruptible. I fear my reputation has been damaged irreparably.”
“Lord Penrith, are you in the habit of corrupting innocent women after only five minutes of polite conversation?”
“I dare not answer.”
“You dare not answer truthfully.”
“Which is answer enough.”
“Lord Penrith, I do begin to wonder about English Society. Is it even possible to corrupt a woman so quickly?
I should never have thought so. Of course, perhaps English women are more malleable? More given to follow every suggestion put to them? Is that it, do you think? Is it not then that I am incorruptible, but that they are so very willing to be corrupted?”
“Miss Elliot,” he said, looking at her most suggestively, which was so cordial of him, “I can find no answer to your questions that will not serve insult to everyone of my acquaintance, therefore, I will allow that you must and should form your own conclusions.”
“But do I have enough information, my lord? Five minutes, can it be enough to form a valid conclusion? Must I not test you to a full ten, or even, risking all, attempt thirty? Can I withstand you, Lord Penrith? I begin to wonder. Should I dare it? Should I dare . . . you?”
Penrith smiled slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Miss Elliot, do not. I would not see a sister so ill used.”
“Ah, you are afraid of my brothers? They are not here, my lord. You are quite safe.”
“Miss Elliot, there is yet another man who would fight to keep you from me or from any other man and he stands not fifteen feet from you. I need not name him, I trust?”
“Oh, Lord Penrith, you are a hopeful sort, aren’t you?
Did you not see the gentleman you allude to, a certain duke, whom I shall not trouble myself to name, refuse to fight at all? You are a brother; what would you think of a man who refused to fight for your sister?”
“Miss Elliot,” he said, offering her his arm, which she took, and leading her across the music room to the corner where the harp was positioned, “I would ask myself why he did not fight. Men fight, as you have surely noticed, for any reason at all. It is when they don’t fight when they clearly should that the matter must be looked into. Have you?
Looked into it, I mean?”
She had not.
“Lord Penrith, you do not think you are putting too much thought into what is a most simple situation?”
“You think he was afraid to fight back?”
Jane shrugged. It was obvious, was it not?
“If he was afraid, of what was he afraid, Miss Elliot?”
“Of being hurt, Lord Penrith. Isn’t that the reason men do not fight?”
“But he was hurt, Miss Elliot, and that is not the reason men do not fight. They do not fight when they fear to lose more by fighting than what they hope to gain by fighting.”
What?
“Really, Lord Penrith, I have seen men fight before, many times, in fact. I do think you are being very optimistic and even aggressively overreaching in your rather poetic description of men and their various fights. I understand your prejudice about it, being a man you can hardly avoid it, but I certainly don’t see that there is anything beyond a man and his defense of his honor in his fighting. As to not lifting a hand when set upon, what honor in that?”
Penrith smiled at her, and it was a thrilling sight. The man was sensual to an alarming and entirely delightful degree. “Miss Elliot,” he said, lifting his gaze from her to look across the room; she followed his gaze. He was looking at Edenham, who did look quite as handsome as ever, his bruise visible even from where she stood. A rumble of something or other twisted under her ribs. Hunger, most definitely. When would they eat? “I do believe that the gentleman in question was simply trying to avoid angering your family further
, as well as considering their safety.”
“It is not possible that they could have been angered further, Lord Penrith, and as to endangering their safety, what can you possibly mean?”
“That he would have injured them, perhaps seriously, by fighting back,” Penrith said. “How could he win your regard if he had damaged your brothers?”
Well, what was she to say to that? She couldn’t think of a thing as she was far too busy laughing, and not at all quietly either.
“Now he’s got her laughing,” Henry Blakesley said in an annoyed rumble of expelled breath. “I don’t suppose you made her laugh.”
Edenham looked at Jane and Penrith and couldn’t stop the scowl from knitting his brow. “Not like that. I mostly make her angry.”
“Anger’s not bad. You can make it work for you, if you’re quick on your feet. Are you?”
“Quick enough. I did kiss her straight off,” Edenham said, scowling at Lord Henry now.
“Look, are you going to marry this girl or not? She’s my cousin; I’ve not laid eyes upon her until two days ago, but I do feel responsible for her welfare and her happiness. Family, you know,” Henry Blakesley said curtly, looking not at all excited about feeling responsible for a woman he did not know. Well, but who would?
“She doesn’t want to marry me.”
“I heard,” Henry said sarcastically. “What have you done about it?”
“Talked to Sophia, for one. Nearly seduced Jane for another,” Edenham said, eyeing Henry. Family was family, after all. He only wanted to marry Jane, not find himself on a dueling field for her.
Henry’s mood lightened immediately. “That’s that, then.
If Sophia is helping you, you’ll be married to Jane nearly as soon as you wish it. Just hurry it along, will you? The wedding breakfast shan’t be served until you’ve tucked dear Jane under your arm and carted her to the archbishop himself. As it’s nearing eight, I do want my breakfast.”
“And I want Jane. Sophia has an idea as to how I may manage for her to jump into my arms.”
“Well, don’t tarry with me then, Edenham. Off you go, claim the girl, do what needs doing, and promise me now that your wedding breakfast will take place before midnight.”
To which Edenham could only laugh.
What was he laughing about? Here she was, chatting it up with the lovely Lord Penrith, who was the most overwhelmingly seductive man she’d ever met, even if his seductive techniques didn’t work at all on her, and Edenham had the time and the lack of fortitude to ignore what should have been a most alarming situation? Was any more proof needed that the man was . . . well, she wouldn’t go quite so far as to name him a coward, but only because she’d only just met him. Jane was entirely certain that once she got to know him better, she’d know he was as cowardly as the worst coward she’d ever met.
As to that, she wasn’t sure she had met any cowards.
How could one tell? It wasn’t very often in the normal course of life that cowardice became extremely obvious.
Not like here, now, with him.
Coward.
“What are we doing hiding behind the harp, Lord Penrith?” she said. “I do think it would be considered more proper if we mingled.”
“Were we hiding?” he said, his mouth tipped up in that now familiar cat smile of his. It was becoming most annoying. Lord Penrith smiled entirely too much, part of his seductive technique, no doubt.
“Do you care to walk about the room with me or not?”
she said crisply, giving him her most forceful stare and not ruining it by smiling insipidly.
Penrith wisely kept his mouth closed, though still smiling, and offered her his arm. She led him in a most meandering manner to where Edenham stood with her cousin. Entirely appropriate, that. One cousin to another.
Not that she particularly cared about what was appropriate, not with Penrith on her arm and Edenham’s bruised mouth staring her in the face.
“How well you look, Jane,” Henry said after a lengthy silence in which Jane stared at Edenham and then looked at Penrith to make a point. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“It’s been a very entertaining day, Henry,” she said.
“However, it hasn’t been at all as you predicted. I’ve found everyone to be utterly delightful, but of course some more than others.” She leaned against Penrith for just a moment to underline her point. Penrith cleared his throat and smiled. Of course he smiled. The man seemed to have no other talent.
“I do believe that says more about you, Miss Elliot, than anything about the other guests today,” Edenham said mildly. “She is, you will find, Penrith, a most exceptionally easy woman to please. She tolerates nearly anything with good humor and is nearly impossible to offend. Her brothers, while displaying the inherent differences between men and women, are also most affable. Why, when they should have been insisting that I marry Miss Elliot, they were most determinedly insisting that I would not.” Edenham smiled at Penrith and lowered his voice, as if that helped anything. “As I know Miss Elliot prizes honesty and direct discourse in all things, I may say to you that you should enjoy yourself however you please. There will be no marriage penalty to face. You are entirely free to enjoy Miss Elliot as you see fit.”
Jane gasped.
Henry coughed again and looked up at the ceiling.
Penrith was likely still smiling. She didn’t bother to look. She simply could not look away from Edenham and his loathsome speechifying.
“I do begin to wonder,” Edenham continued, crossing his arms over his chest and rocking back on his heels, “if the American situation, handled differently, could not have yielded a more favorable outcome. These Americans seem so very willing to turn the other cheek, to deny their own best interests in deference to their, it must be admitted, betters.”
Jane’s hand connected with Edenham’s cheek in a resounding crack. She had held nothing back. His lip began to bleed again.
She could not possibly have been more overjoyed.
In fact, she was so delighted by the outcome, she did it again.
Another crack echoed through the room as her hand connected with his face. Naturally, everyone stopped talking to stare in their direction. She hardly cared.
“Why, Miss Elliot,” Edenham said, licking the blood from his lip. Her stomach flopped around under her ribs.
She ignored it. “I begin to think you want to kiss me again.
They do have strange, violent notions of bed play, Penrith,”
Edenham said conversationally, staring down at Jane with a strange look in his green eyes, “do be warned. It’s not unpleasant, but it is a bit unruly, even slightly barbaric. Not unlike the people themselves.”
“I am not unruly!” she snapped. When Henry raised his golden brows, she added, “And you know nothing about my bed play!”
Upon which Penrith looked hard at her, his smile obliterated.
“You know there has been no bed play!” she yelled at Edenham.
Edenham looked over her head at the occupants of the silent room, bowed crisply, and said, “I misspoke. There has been no bed play betwixt Miss Elliot and myself.”
“What? Now you make it sound as though there has been . . . that . . . with others and myself!”
“But Miss Elliot, I can’t speak for everyone,” he said with false charm, most assuredly. “It must be enough that I speak only for myself. An act of gallantry, if you will.”
“I will not! Gallantry? As if you’re lying on my behalf, for my benefit? I won’t have it, Hugh. I won’t! You are implying . . . the words you’re using . . . kindly just tell the truth!”
“The truth, Libby? Are you certain that’s what you want of me?”
Actually, no.
“She calls you Hugh?” Henry said, a dark scowl transforming his face. “Why is that, Edenham?”
“She was most insistent upon it,” Edenham said. “It seemed a small concession, considering.”
“Considering what?” Henry said, and then, rubbing his hands through his blond hair, he muttered, “Damn me, if I’m not going to have to get the pistols out.”
“No, no, Lord Henry,” Edenham said pleasantly. “That isn’t at all how it’s done with dear Miss Elliot. Her brothers have made that vividly clear, haven’t they? You are not required to defend your cousin’s honor, or perhaps a better word would be virtue, if her brothers have relinquished the duty. What else but to follow their dictates on the matter?
They are her countrymen, after all, and Americans quite obviously practice different rituals. As to that, Miss Elliot has made her position plain more than once. She will not marry me. She will, however, kiss me. As I have tired of the practice, carry on, Lord Penrith. She’s all yours.”
“You’re . . . giving me away? I am not yours to give!”
she said, her voice rising. “And my virtue does not need defending!” Jane barked, reviewing his list of insults. “But if it did, I would defend it myself!”
Edenham rubbed his face where she’d slapped him, touching his fingertips to his mouth to check for blood. It had oozed to a stop, which was such a shame.
“Most enthusiastically, no doubt,” Edenham said, “when it occurs to you to do so.”
“And I only kissed you,” she went on, ignoring him completely, because he was acting utterly reprehensible, which was not at all a surprise, “as a response to your kissing me! The entire party saw that, Edenham, so you shan’t put that upon my shoulders. It’s a very odd thing, I must say, for a man of your mature years and blatant experience to try and lay your debauched and sordid behavior at my innocent feet.”
“My years?” Edenham said a bit sharply. It was lovely to see him rising to a well-deserved rage. Perhaps he’d have a small stroke.
“Innocent feet,” Henry interjected softly, “and all the other bits innocent as well, I trust?”
