Abigail disappeared into the house.
Selina blinked, unsure of what had just happened.
She walked down the lawn and re-entered the party in search of James.
***
James was distracted and sullen, not the man who had just had his proposal of marriage accepted by the love of his life.
James and Jackson steered clear of the cadre of familiar faces with whom James would be expected to make polite chit chat. Instead, like a caged tiger, James stalked the grounds between the marquee and the hedgerows that had become popular trysting sites during the evening.
After ten minutes of aimless walking, James stopped as if he suddenly remembered something.
“Where’s Selina?”
“I don’t know, I lost sight of her well over an hour ago amongst the dancers,” said Jackson. “She looked as though she was enjoying herself.”
James threw a newly lit cigar to the ground and stomped on it ruthlessly.
“What the hell do you mean, you don’t know?” he fumed. “You were supposed to be looking after her!”
James was off, breaking through crowds of people to follow any glimpses of a white costume and mahogany hair in the crush of people, animals, and otherworldly creatures, carousing and singing drunken ribald ditties.
On the edge of the dance floor several minutes later, James’ head span from his anger, the loud music and voices, too much alcohol, smoky air and sweaty bodies, and the dizzying twirl of dancers.
Mercifully, Jackson appeared and rescued him from his fugue state by shoving him out the other side of the marquee into the fresh air.
James threw his head back and filled his lungs in an attempt to stop the pounding in his head. It helped somewhat.
He looked at Jackson who offered no reproach, but wariness was evident in his expression.
“I’m better,” James offered with a half smile of an apology. “Thank you.”
His friend nodded his acceptance but his expression didn’t lighten. James had never spoken to him the way he just had ever before.
“I asked Lady Edith. She saw Selina with Geoffrey. Selina didn’t look happy about it. I’ve had a discreet word with Pickering and Walsh, they’re keeping their eyes open.”
Jackson spoke softly, as if trying to gentle a skittish horse, which James had to admit he was doing a very good impression of.
“Let’s head back around the other side. She might have returned to the house for some reason.”
James took another deep breath and nodded, but it was Selina who spotted them first from her elevated vantage near the house. She ran and threw her arms around James, holding him tight.
“Geoffrey says he has something against you and William,” she said breathlessly. “He is threatening to implicate you both in the loss of the Pandora and have you arrested.”
Jackson groaned as James stood back from Selina, ramrod straight.
“And how do you know this?”
“He told me. At Newquay. And tonight he said he would show me evidence at the stables...”
Unalloyed fury flashed across James’ face.
“I don’t believe it! I ask you not to trust that man or trust anything he does and here you go swanning off into the night with him!” he roared. “How could you be so naïve? What the hell did you think you were doing?”
“James! Calm down, man!”
Jackson’s rebuke brought him back to himself. He looked at his friend who regarded him as one might a mad man. Well, perhaps he was.
James turned back to Selina. Her face was pale and her eyes wide with shock. James swept her hands up with his and rained kisses on her knuckles as he murmured profuse apologies.
Jackson shepherded the couple to a quieter part of the garden and withdrew to a discreet few yards away. Standing rigidly with his back to them, arms folded, he looked every bit his party character.
“First things first, Selina. Did Geoffrey harm you in any way?” James asked.
“No. No, he didn’t,” Selina assured him. “He said he was planning to have you arrested tonight.”
Jackson was unable to resist a snort of derision. Selina looked over at him. “I didn’t know what to believe,” she said to his back, then looked up at James.
“The evidence was only a ruse to get me alone.
“I’m very sorry James, you were right; I should never have trusted him.”
James’ expression was grim.
“I’ll call him out tonight.”
“I’ll stand as your second,” said Jackson, returning to the conversation.
Selina was aghast at the thought of a duel.
“No, please don’t. What if he does have something against you? What about William?”
“You can rest assured on that count; any ‘evidence’ is fake,” James promised. “Tonight Pitt has given me warrants that name Jackson, myself, and William as diplomatic agents of the Crown. We have full immunity.”
Twin expressions of relief came over Selina and Jackson. James couldn’t help but smile, feeling the same way himself.
“But Canalissy can’t be allowed to harass you any more, sweetheart,” he explained.
“I don’t believe he will… I fear I may have broken his nose,” said Selina, wincing at the sound she recalled when she slammed back the door into Geoffrey’s face. She briefly explained the circumstances, taking special care to down play the fear she felt at the time.
James was astounded; Jackson whooped with laughter.
“Oh man, I’m going to see if I can find him. This is too good not to see for myself,” chortled the American. He bade them farewell temporarily and strode up towards the house in search of his amusement.
As Jackson disappeared from view, James’ mood ebbed.
“I also discovered something else tonight that should cause us to reconsider our engagement,” he started.
Pained, Selina shook her head desperately. “No… not now!”
Taking her by the hand, he sat on the stone coping of a raised garden bed and urged her to sit next to him.
“There’s the strong possibility that I may not be Lord of Penventen; in fact, I may not even be a Mitchell at all,” he said.
“I don’t understand. How?”
“I learned tonight that my mother entered marriage carrying another man’s child.”
“Oh James! I’m so sorry. I understand why you are shocked.” She squeezed his hands. “Do you know who?”
“Earl Canalissy, Geoffrey’s father.”
Selina’s expression was pure astonishment.
“I can’t marry you. I have no name to call my own and no title to offer you,” he continued bleakly.
“Should any of my father’s, rather, Edward Mitchell’s family learn of this, then by rights I lose the title, Penventen Hall, everything...
“It’s not what I want for you and not what you deserve.”
Selina took James’ hand and kissed it.
“Do you love me?” she asked.
“With everything I am, I love you. But…”
Selina interrupted him with a finger to his lips, then leaned in and softly pressed hers to his. She looked at him gently.
“I don’t want to marry title or lands,” she whispered. “I want to marry you.
“You’re a good, kind, honourable man James. I love you.”
She kissed his cheek.
“… for better or for worse…”
Selina moved another kiss closer to his mouth.
“…‘til death do us part.”
Selina’s mouth coaxed his open and they kissed long and deeply before James broke off.
He regarded her carefully.
“It won’t be an easy life if we have to leave England permanently. America is barely civilised.”
“It doesn’t matter as long as we’re together.”
James stood, bringing her to stand up with him.
“Then, tell me again, Selina. Will you marry me?”
“Absolutel
y yes,” she smiled.
He swooped down to claim her lips, devouring them thoroughly. Selina’s matched his intensity, bringing her arms up under his to press herself against him more completely, restlessly yearning for more of him, more of the heady, sensuous feeling he released in her.
“Three weeks from tomorrow, Selina,” he whispered between kisses. “Then nothing will keep us apart.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
2 August 1790
The week following the masquerade flew by, a parallel to the arrival of the late summer winds that roared up the coast, stealing hats and parasols on fashionable seafronts and making the way of ships in and out of Bristol even more hazardous.
James saw Selina less in this week than in the three weeks prior.
Selina was out of the house from early morning until well after dinner some evenings, her life a whirl of dress fittings, social calls and introductions facilitated by Lady Margaret, who was taking her motherly role very seriously indeed.
James counted down the days to his wedding. When they did dine together, he saw the longing looks Selina gave him over the dinner table and, propriety be damned, all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and make love to her until dawn.
Perhaps that was his grandmother's intent—to keep her so occupied that she was out of temptation’s reach. He began to regret his decision to place Selina in a bedroom more fitting her new position as his fiancée since the room was next to his grandmother's and she, when it was convenient to be so, turned out to be a very light sleeper.
This was madness! He was even beginning to resent Jackson who appointed himself Selina’s protective shadow. James grumbled to his friend that he, Jackson, had seen more of his wife-to-be that the groom had.
It had now been mutually agreed by all three that little would be served telling William about Selina’s confrontation with Canalissy. Jackson had been unable to locate the Viscount that evening and the following day the Canalissy party had made an early departure from Boconnoc Hall.
Selina was confident that would be the end of the matter. Jackson and James were less certain, and that was when Jackson volunteered to be at her service if James himself couldn’t be present.
Abigail had surprised Penventen guests by announcing her intent to stay with friends in the fashionable Cornish city of Truro, her departure to be so immediate that Lady Catherine was charged with the responsibility of forwarding on Abigail's possessions to an address to be supplied by Sir Percy.
The morning after the ball James had asked Sir Percy what plans he had for Abigail and was kindly but firmly told it was no longer his business.
So it was a surprise when, as other guests attended the informal buffet breakfast—the civilised way to cater for the gentleman or lady who suffered to a lesser or greater extent from the excesses of the night before—Abigail asked to walk with him in the gardens...
Her pale skin and dark-circled eyes didn’t look out of place among some of the other hung-over guests, although James knew the cause was different.
“You will forgive me for not returning with you. It seems I am to assist Sir Percy in some matter and I’d rather not talk to his men at Penventen. Anyway, I’m not sure I feel up to attending your wedding. I think a clean break would be best.”
James accepted her decision without comment as the steady crunch of gravel under their feet marked their progress along the path.
“I did love you, you know,” she offered after a long minute of silence.
A bitter retort hovered at his lips, but he swallowed it. He shrugged and tried to find the better angel of his nature he had once been assured existed somewhere.
Another minute passed before he felt he might have found it.
“I meant what I said last night,” he said quietly. “I truly hope you find what you’re looking for.
“I never could understand why you had to cheat and connive to get ahead. You’re a beautiful woman with all of the advantages of wealth and status. You’re accomplished, intelligent and witty. Men fall over themselves to be beside you.”
“Not you,” she replied.
“I did once,” he responded. “I ought to thank you for helping me see clearly all those years ago. Our marriage would have been as miserable as the one I grew up witnessing.
“I know I probably haven’t treated you fairly over the past year but you are someone I once cared for. I hope you find the right man to love, the one who understands you and treats you well.”
Abigail smiled mockingly.
“I thought I had found him.”
“It could never be,” James shook his head, “and you know it too, especially from the first night I met Selina.”
“I think I did know even then. I hated her on sight, you know.”
James nodded. He had known, right from the start.
“But now I don’t hate her at all. I haven't the energy. I hope she will love you in the way you deserve to be loved and in a way that I simply don’t know how.
“Perhaps you'll both give everyone hope that marriage is still an honourable institution,” she conceded with an attenuated degree of flippancy that made James consider her words were less cynical than they sounded.
James stopped and turned, looking back at the house.
“I’m glad we’ve cleared the air,” he said. “But let’s not make any false promises of future friendship. If nothing else, you’re not a hypocrite. And I don’t bear you any ill will or malice, but I want to be perfectly clear.
“I don’t want to see you again.”
With that, James walked back to the house and did not glance back.
Now, at the start of August, James found himself alone at Penventen Hall with other unpleasant arrangements to make.
He called for a servant to send for his mother.
* * *
The stop at the tea house overlooking Padstow harbour was welcome following the seemingly endless engagements with bakers, cooks and confectioners—both in the village and in Newquay—regarding the wedding breakfast and the obligatory village celebration.
A letter had waited for Selina at the post office, a fulsome communication from Sarah, delighted by her sister-in-law’s news. She and William would be back in Padstow within the week, along with the children. The boys had been delighted to learn they would be pages at the wedding, and were looking forward to welcoming Uncle James into the family.
Reading the letter, Selina realised how dearly she missed Sarah and the children.
The bride-to-be was relieved to sip tea and take the weight off her feet, and she spared a glance at the new weight she wore on the third finger of her left hand, an engagement ring; a sizable ruby set in gold and surrounded by smaller rubies.
She sat alone. Even now, James’ grandmother had appropriated Jackson for another errand involving the florist. Selina had no idea where Lady Margaret found the energy.
Jackson would be pleased, she giggled to herself. Selina decided to have a box of cigars sent directly to his quarters as an apology.
While watching the passing parade of fishermen, housewives, and vendors on the Strand, Selina’s eye found Fidget, dressed as she had always seen him in dark blue trousers, a grey shirt, and matching grey cloak, walking quickly along the street.
Things must be well with him, she decided; he was doing far less fidgeting with the dice in his hands.
Then he stopped and greeted a man. It seemed obvious they had an appointment.
At first Selina couldn’t see clearly who he was meeting with but, as a knot of sailors passed the window, the man turned in profile and Selina was surprised to recognise him.
It was Comte Alexandre, now in an animated conversation with Fidget.
Odd. How did they come to know one another?
At that moment, Edith bounced through the door of the tea house like a beribboned rubber ball.
“Selina! You’ll be the first to know,” she announced breathlessly, talking even before the doorbell had finished c
langing and she had arrived at the table. “Roger and I are to be married at Christmas!”
Other customers glanced over at them, smiling indulgently.
Selina rose to her feet and hugged the girl warmly.
“Edith, I’m thrilled for you both. That’s wonderful news!”
They sat and a waitress brought another pot of tea and crockery.
“Roger is accompanying me to Cheshire after your wedding to meet Mama and Papa.”
“Shouldn’t Roger have settled matters with your father before he proposed?” Selina teased.
“Oh!” giggled Edith. “He did! But the sneaky man kept it from me. Roger had grandmother’s approval, so that was enough for father.”
Selina found herself only half listening as Edith chattered. Beyond the window, Fidget and Alexandre had concluded their conversation. The men parted with Fidget handing a sealed envelope to the Frenchman.
* * *
Christina glided into the study in Penventen Hall with all the poise of the lady of the house, although she had not been seen for days. The announcement of her son’s pending marriage to Selina and not to Abigail had resulted in the woman locking herself in her bedroom, claiming she was too ill to give the bride-to-be her blessing.
Now, with her mother and imminent daughter-in-law out of the house, Lady Christina emerged like a butterfly from a chrysalis. She looked regal in her blue and cream striped morning dress, though her eyes were wary.
James had to give his mother credit; she looked as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. He could suddenly see her as the debutant. All she would have needed to do was bat her calf brown eyes and no man would deny her a thing.
His grandmother was right, he realised; men were fools all too easily manipulated with the promise of sex and admiration.
James had grown up watching his mother flirt coquettishly with men. In his youth, he had found it amusing to observe her at parties, trading a few kind words for a rush to fetch her refreshments or a smile to garner a more favourable seat. There was no doubt she had used her same charms on his father—or should that be “fathers”?
James wondered what feminine wiles she’d try to use on him today.
“I have never been more embarrassed in all my days! Such a debacle at the masquerade... How could you let this happen, James?”
Moonstone Obsession Page 20
