by Edith Layton
Chapter Three
Constantine changed into correct evening clothes and then came down the stairs. An ancient footman told him that the captain was waiting for him in his study. Constantine joined him, feeling horribly overdressed, since the captain was still in the casual attire he’d worn when his guest arrived. Although he felt vaguely foolish in his knee-high breeches, tight fitted jacket, shining linen, and correctly tied neckcloth, Constantine reminded himself that a well-dressed gentleman was always dressed correctly.
He was offered another glass, this one of aged Spanish sherry, and was sipping it, appreciating its age and fire, when his eye was caught by a movement at the doorway. A lovely woman appeared there, and was staring at him. Constantine stopped sipping. Captain Bigod was grinning. Miss Lovelace smiled. But no one bothered making an introduction. The young woman was still looking at Constantine, so he recovered enough poise to bow.
“Good lord, Captain,” he drawled. “You didn’t tell me you had two granddaughters. And this is … ?”
She giggled.
The captain guffawed.
Miss Lovelace, in her chair by the fire, tittered.
Lord Wylde’s smile vanished. His face became expressionless. He suddenly realized who she was, but didn’t see the jest, didn’t mean it as a joke, and didn’t like being laughed at.
The young woman stopped smiling. She curtsied. “I am the captain’s only granddaughter,” she said. “So far as I know.”
The captain laughed. Constantine winced.
“Now, Lisabeth,” Miss Lovelace said. She wagged a finger. “Too ripe a jest, my dear.”
“It was my mistake,” Constantine said in a deadly calm voice. “I apologize. Your appearance must have so dazzled me that I couldn’t see clearly at first.”
The young woman’s lips curled. It was not a friendly smile.
“Told you she’d clean up good,” the captain said, grinning.
Constantine suppressed a groan. This was going to be a long night.
It was the strangest dinner Constantine had ever sat through. He was appalled, amused, and fascinated. The captain’s household was eccentric, his servants either so old Constantine wondered if they could successfully teeter around the table with the soup or wind up falling facedown with it, or so young that they didn’t seem to know their left side from their right. Miss Lovelace was entirely sober when she sat down, and as the dinner went on, she slowly drank herself almost under the table, or at least down to her elbows, tittering all the way. The captain and his granddaughter didn’t seem to notice. Strangely, the food was some of the best he’d ever dined on. It was simple, fresh, and well prepared, and wonderfully good.
Yet, stranger still, the woman he’d come to tell he couldn’t marry her obviously didn’t like him. She was remote, even a bit disdainful, and largely ignored him, when she wasn’t sneering at him. Constantine felt relieved, of course, but also a bit confused, a little annoyed, and entirely fascinated.
Because she was also beautiful. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it at first. Perhaps because she wasn’t what he’d ever considered beautiful before? She was small, and although she had a neat little hourglass of a figure, it was definitely on the rounded side. But her low neckline and the thin material of her gown showed she had enchanting upright little pert breasts that bounced when she laughed, which she often did. Except not at any jest he made.
There was nothing classic about her face; her plump lips weren’t at all the thing, although they were tempting, no matter what she said, because she said nothing teasing or tempting to him. She was nicely rounded too, not a thready female like those in fashion plates. Not that she was stout, but she was certainly what most men liked, although Constantine had never until this moment realized that he did. She had masses of honey-colored hair, and her long-lashed eyes matched that glorious hair. Her nose was of no consequence, but it was straight.
She did, however, suffer that most dreaded calamity of all: her flawless complexion had a smattering of freckles. But Constantine was astonished to find them no flaw. They were adorable, as was she. That was the word: “adorable.” He’d never met an adorable female before. Or maybe, he thought, peering suspiciously into his glass, he’d had too much of the captain’s excellent wine.
And she was clever. Her conversation, with her grandfather, at least, was witty and well informed. She had nothing to say to her grandfather’s visitor, so, Constantine thought, she might be trying to interest him by not being interested in him. He couldn’t understand why she wasn’t. In his experience, most unmarried females, and not a few married ones, were.
“You’re mighty quiet tonight, my lord,” the captain said. “Tired from your journey? Or is something eating at you?”
“Rather the reverse,” Constantine said. “I’m eating too much, and enjoying it far too much to have time to talk. I do beg your pardon.”
“Well, thanks for the compliment. Cook did herself proud tonight. But it’s simple country fare, not the Frenchified things they serve in London.”
“So it is, but simple, countrified things are very appealing,” Constantine said, smiling at the captain’s granddaughter. He realized his mistake a second later, before he had time to lose the smile.
“Like me, my lord?” she said too sweetly.
But Constantine wasn’t a popular fellow for no reason. “Yes, and no,” he said smoothly. “You come from the countryside, but you’re about as simple as the changing of the seasons. That is to say, there’s nothing more simple, and nothing more wondrous to see.”
“Lovely!” Miss Lovelace crowed, picking up her head. “What a tongue on the man!”
Constantine heard one of the old footmen, standing behind him, snicker. He was very glad he was schooled in keeping his composure.
“Exactly,” Lisabeth Bigod said, shooting a knowing glance at her grandfather, who sighed when he saw it. “Our guest is well schooled in the niceties. Tell me, my lord,” she went on, turning her topaz gaze on Constantine. “Do you ever say exactly what you mean? Please don’t take offense,” she said when she saw him stiffen. “I’m just a simple country girl with no experience of the ton. But I’ve read that you gentlemen seldom say anything to give offense in company, and for the life of me I can’t see how anyone can be so amiable all the time. Doesn’t that get a bit trying?”
The trembling platter of beef being presented to Constantine by an ancient palsied footman gave him a moment to gain his composure. He drew back, pretending to be more worried about being bathed in gravy than answering the question he’d been asked. He’d rather be thought a fop than a coward, or a fool. But he couldn’t afford to insult the woman—or her grandfather, at least. Not until he got the whole story of his father—and who might know about it—from them.
He took a slice of beef, releasing the elderly footman, who then proceeded to stagger around the table toward Miss Lovelace. “You’re right, Miss Lisabeth,” he said, with a slight smile. “A gentleman in the ton tries never to give offense to anyone. But since that includes himself, when he has something uncharitable to say, he simply doesn’t say it.” There! he thought. What can you say about that?
She nodded, seeming pleased with him for the first time that night. “I see,” she said. “So that explains why you’re so quiet this evening?”
He tried not to wince. He spread out his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Miss Lisabeth,” he said. “I have somehow offended you. Then let me try the candor you want from me. Is it because I didn’t recognize you when you changed your gown? Forgive me. I was cold and harried and in a filthy temper when I got here, in no mood to observe anyone or see to anything but my own comfort. My mistake was insulting. I didn’t mean it that way. I wasn’t trying to be rude. Can we cry quits? I tell you what! Why don’t you pretend not to know me tomorrow morning?”
He smiled.
And grudgingly, so did she.
He relaxed. The captain grinned.
Miss Lovelace held up her glass o
f wine in a salute to him.
The captain then regaled the company with stories about his days at sea, telling tales about the pirates off the China Sea, savage islanders he had met, and fantastical sea creatures he swore he had actually seen. He was a good storyteller, and his granddaughter knew how to prompt him to his best stories. The dinner progressed smoothly, except for the quavering service. It ended in a delicious dessert that left Constantine feeling satisfied, and only a little wary about the rest of the evening.
“We don’t stand on ceremony here in the countryside,” the captain finally said, as he rose from his chair. “Why don’t we go into the salon? Lisabeth can play us some music, if you like, she’s a treat on the piano and the harp. But you get enough music in London. We can sit around the fire and talk until you feel like going to bed, my lord. How does that sound?”
Like an order, Constantine thought, tensing. But we might as well get it over with. “Fine,” he said. And wondered if when they were done, he’d find himself on the road, in the night, on his way back to London. In one piece, he hoped.
He helped Miss Lovelace stand up straight, put her hand on his arm, and followed his host and his supposedly promised wife into the salon.
They settled in comfortable chairs in front of the hearth, sipped an excellent port wine, and talked about the weather, the roads, and the weather again.
Then the captain yawned hugely, rose, stretched, and said too casually, “It’s early for you London gents, m’lord, but I’m an old tub, and better off in my bed now than sitting here prying my eyes open and trying to talk sense. You young people don’t have to stir stump. Why don’t you sit here a while and get acquainted?”
Constantine rose to his feet. He had been willing to thrash the thing out with the captain, but there was no way he was going to stay alone with the captain’s granddaughter and be compromised. “I would, but how can I?” he asked. “A gentleman may not stay alone with an unmarried female, especially such a lovely one as your granddaughter.”
The captain waved his hand. “We don’t hold with such finicky ways here. Anyway, you’ve got Miss Lovelace as chaperone. Don’t worry about it.”
Constantine glanced over to where Miss Lovelace was sitting, or rather, slumping, in a chair by the fire. Her snoring was just steady enough to insure that she was still breathing.
Constantine sighed, and sat again. He’d talk the matter out with the captain’s granddaughter then. She seemed sensible, and hadn’t been hostile to him for hours. Best to get it over and done. It was better to drive back to London by day anyway.
After the captain left them, they sat quietly, listening to the logs tick and spit in the fireplace. Then Lisabeth turned to Constantine, and smiled.
“Relax,” she said. “I’m not after you.”
He was taken aback. The women he knew never spoke so directly. Except for bawds, wenches, and utter romps, of course.
“It’s my grandfather’s idea,” she went on. “And of course, my father’s and your father’s. But I don’t remember my father, and he didn’t know me. The idea of my marrying you is not mine, and I won’t hold you to it. Still, I must confess,” she said wistfully, “I indulged in a few daydreams.” She sat up sharply. “But then I met you, and you are nothing like anything I imagined. So, you’re free. And so am I.”
Constantine relaxed. But then he frowned. He had been rejected. Glad as he was, he wondered why. “What had you imagined?” he asked carefully.
She smiled again. “I thought you’d be like your father and your great-grandfather. Because you look so much like them. But you’re nothing like. I know that’s ridiculous, and actually I’m awfully glad you’re not, because it would be stupid to hanker for a fellow on account of his looks. So, be easy, my lord. I’ll explain it to my grandfather. He’ll understand. He’s gruff and tough but indulgent with me, and always has been.”
“I expect that’s because of his background,” Constantine said absently, trying to decide why he should feel insulted instead of liberated.
She stiffened. “Meaning?” she asked.
“Well, he was a pirate,” Constantine began to say.
She shot to her feet. “He was not!” she said, so loudly that Miss Lovelace snorted, woke for a moment, and looked around blearily.
Lisabeth sat again, and said more quietly, “That was his father. He was the man to take risks and defy the law. He was lucky he ended up dying in his own bed, aboard ship. But it was a close thing. Grandy decided that running from the law or dangling from the noose would make it hard for him to raise a family. All he did was to use the knowledge and good will of his father’s old acquaintances. He built himself a shipping empire, an entirely legal one. He dealt in goods from the South Seas and the Far East; he never even resorted to smuggling, though half the men living on this coast did. Or so they say,” she added quickly.
“Pardon me,” Constantine said. “But in truth, he looked the part, and since his son and my father were engaged in criminal activity, I presumed he had been as well. I beg your pardon.”
She shrugged. “A natural conclusion, I suppose. He’s usually smooth shaven. Why he grew the damned rubbish on his face, I do not know.”
As Constantine was trying to absorb the shock of her saying “damned,” she laughed. “No, wait! Now I do. Of course! He knew what you’d think and was trying to intimidate you. He did, didn’t he? He’s a crafty fellow.”
“I was not intimidated,” Constantine said stiffly. “I was interested. Because I didn’t know about my father until your grandfather told me. I came here to find out more. I wanted to meet you too. If I was going to fight this strange pact our fathers made, at the very least I should do it in person.”
“You weren’t curious about me?” she asked.
“Yes. No. I suppose. But you can understand that finding out my father was a highwayman, when all my life I thought he was a brave soldier killed in His Majesty’s service, was a jolt.”
“Your father a heroic soldier?” She shook her head. “And your uncle clung to that? From what Grandy told me about him, I suppose he would. But your father wasn’t a criminal. Not a dyed-in-the-wool one, at least. He was just trying to get enough money so he could make a home for your mother and you. My father wasn’t a true reprobate either, I’m told. He gave up crime, but then was foolish enough to stray with another man’s wife. His own, my mama, had passed away, you see. Our fathers were, I think, a pair of boys who hadn’t grown up, and never had the chance to do so.”
She sat still and stared into the fire. Then she turned to him with a grin. “You’ve never seen them, have you?”
“My father? Or yours?”
“Both,” she said.
“No, how could I?” Constantine said. “My father was gone by the time I was a babe in arms. I do have a miniature of him in his uniform, but now I realize he didn’t wear it very long. I never even knew about your father until I met your grandfather.”
“Would you like to see them?”
He started. “The house is haunted?”
Her laughter was light and truly amused. “No, good heavens! Did you think I’d ask you to sit up all night by the full of the moon? No, but we have a fine portrait of your father, and one of mine.”
“How came you by my father’s portrait?” Constantine asked, confused.
She shrugged. “Your grandfather threw it out, along with your father. Your father hired a wagon, took all his things, and brought them to my father and this house—until he made his fortune, he said. He knew they’d be safe here.”
Constantine sat up straight. “I’d very much like to meet my father at long last,” he said eagerly. “May we see him now? Or would you rather wait until morning?”
She stood. “Now is as good a time as any. The portraits are all in Grandy’s study. Come this way.”
He hesitated, and cast a glance at Miss Lovelace, who was gently snoring in her chair. “I hate to wake her,” he said softly. “She seems so peaceful.”
“Well, fine. We’ll go by dawn’s early light, accompanied by half the staff in the house, or all of them, if you want. Although why you should think I’m longing to catch you or trying to trap you, I do not know. You’re a handsome fellow, my lord, and rich too, I hear. But I have a fine dowry, a good home, a life of my own, and I wouldn’t wed you for a bucket of gold. I told you I was interested because of your father. But you’re nothing like him! Your face is similar but you’ve a different heart. Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She turned to go.
“Wait!” Constantine said. “Excuse me. I’m sorry.” He spread out his hands. “But you see … the thing of it is …”
She noticed his face looked ruddier.
“Women have tried to catch me. And trap me,” he added, looking embarrassed. “Not that I’m such a prize, although I suppose I’m considered such. I have my own hair and teeth, a title and a handsome fortune,” he said on a weak laugh. “No one speaks ill of me either.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That sounds conceited. As if I’m in love with myself. But please understand, the competition is fierce in London. Girls and women come from all over England to find husbands there. So any man declared eligible is considered fair game. Some women actually try to compromise a fellow if they can, by various lures. Getting him alone on some pretext, and then being discovered, is frequently how it’s done.”
She stared at him. “They do that? How dreadful for you. You must always have to go everywhere with a footman in tow, like a little girl, poor fellow.”
“Not exactly,” he said, through gritted teeth. He bit his tongue. What he had to say to her would banish him from the house, and he didn’t want to leave yet. But when he did, he promised himself, she’d hear all he couldn’t say now. And a bit more, for good measure.
