by Lavinia Kent
She turned to face Linnette, who stood like the white queen in a chess set.
“I am here,” she said.
“Yes,” Linnette answered. “I understand that you wish to apologize.”
Kathryn started to nod, but Elizabeth was having none of it. She was tired of pretense and acting this evening.
“No, I cannot say that apologizing ever entered my mind.”
Linnette’s eyes narrowed.
Elizabeth stood firm. “I am sorry that your dress was torn, but I certainly did not mean to do it. If you had not jerked away then it would never have happened. It is not my fault that you have a redhead’s temper.”
That got Linnette. “I have a temper? Have you looked at yourself, my lady?”
“There is no need to be sarcastic. I am fully aware of my own temper,” Elizabeth answered. “But that doesn’t mean I would ever have ripped your dress on purpose. And besides, if I had, I would have made sure there was a much bigger audience. Rumor and gossip are all very nice, but I would have arranged for a pack of schoolboys to have seen the whole thing. I could have scored two victories at once. I could have shown your bosoms to the world and arranged to permanently scar a whole new generation of gentlemen.”
“You believe seeing my breasts would scar young men?” The bosoms in question heaved mightily.
She had not said that well. “I actually meant to imply the opposite—that having seen you, how would they ever settle for anything less?” Elizabeth gestured at her own meager front.
The corner of Linnette’s mouth twisted up. “You are right about that. Doveshire would probably have called you out. I can just imagine what a scandal that would have been.”
“Yes, you know I would have taken him up on it.”
“I know you would have.”
Elizabeth felt her shoulders begin to relax. “I truly did not mean to tear your dress. My buttons caught in the lace.”
Linnette let out a slow breath. “I almost believe you.”
“And you did slap me. I think I’ve heard more giggles about that than about your dress.”
“Well, I must admit it’s not like I keep my breasts hidden.” Linnette glanced down at her cleavage. “I am sure that what I haven’t shown the world has already been filled in by schoolboy imagination.”
Kathryn rose from the stone bench and approached them. “Yes, I’ve always been surprised that there weren’t drawings circulating devoted to your breasts. You do seem to do your best to create a loyal following.”
“And is that comment supposed to help bring us to accord?” Linnette glared at Kathryn, but it was clear there was no malice in her tone.
“You are all making me feel quite left out—and I will have you know that when I first arrived from Boston, there actually were cartoons devoted to my breasts.” Annabelle put her hands on her hips. “Do you remember how I always had an American flag planted firmly between them?”
Elizabeth found herself laughing. “Yes, I do remember. I had completely forgotten. It was long before this whole mess began.”
“I remember stomping into an apothecary,” Annabelle continued, “and demanding that he quit displaying them. I didn’t see why they needed to print up almost the same thing day after day. He told me that it was actually the most profitable part of his business. He even offered to pay me if I’d report to him each day what I was planning to wear the next. Apparently the printers and publishers are always looking for those details that make the whole thing more real.”
“As if anyone really cares.” Linnette did sound bitter.
“I thought you were over the cartoons. You and Doveshire do seem quite—quite reconciled.”
“We are.” Linnette’s gaze dropped. “I’ve even agreed to marry the blasted man. I’ll be just the plain old Duchess of Doveshire once again. No more dowager for me. Can you imagine the cartoons that will cause? I’ve been avoiding letting it be known until we found out who was behind this whole mess. I don’t mind some fun being poked, but these recent ones have seemed so deliberately mean—as if the purpose was not to cause mirth for the masses, but rather to actually harm us.”
Linnette was still trying to find out who was behind the cartoons. Did that mean . . . ? “So you don’t actually think I am behind all the cartoons?”
“No—or perhaps I don’t think so, but I am not completely sure.”
Well, she had wanted honesty. “And I should say congratulations. I am delighted that you have agreed to marry Doveshire. It’s been clear from the first—well, perhaps the second—time I saw you together that he truly is devoted to you.”
It was too dark to see if Linnette was blushing, but Elizabeth was sure that her cheeks had turned pink.
“Yes, he is,” Linnette said, her voice a little breathless. “I am only sorry that it took me so long to see it.”
“I should warn you all,” Annie said as she came walking nearer to join the group, “that your voices are carrying. I could hear you almost as soon as I stepped off the terrace. I don’t know that it matters. The only other people I actually saw who had ventured into the gardens were clearly not interested in anything except each other’s lips.”
Annabelle snorted. She could seem extremely American on occasion.
“And yes, congratulations, Linnette. I could not be happier for you.” Annie began to talk again. “It is strange that despite the obvious meanness of the cartoons, they do seem to have brought some luck. Without them I might never have known about Tattingstong’s daughters—and having to work through that knowledge has brought us much closer together. I think he was feeling so guilty before that he couldn’t even admit his own feelings for me.”
“And they certainly helped Harrington and I get closer,” Kathryn added.
Was it possible to hear a blush? Elizabeth was becoming convinced that each of the women, excepting Annie and herself, were brighter than a robin’s breast.
“I am almost jealous that I didn’t get poked fun at in one of the cartoons.” Annie’s voice was quiet. “Lord knows that Lord Richard and I could use some help. He’s allowed me to stay in London through the coronation, but only just. And the only reason he’s letting me host a masquerade is that his brother wanted him to. I fear my situation is quite hopeless.”
“Don’t feel that way. It’s not like the cartoon helped either Westhampton or myself.” Elizabeth hoped her self-pity was not evident. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel more distant living in the same home than it was when he was an ocean away.”
The sound of a branch thwacking back caused Elizabeth to turn. Much to her horror it was her husband walking toward them, and he did not look pleased.
“You do give me such a perfect note to make an entrance on, my wife.” William said the words very softly.
CHAPTER NINE
Did she really feel that way? William cursed to himself. Of course she did. He certainly had done very little these past few days to make her feel close to him. Perhaps he should just sail back to Brazil. He’d understood far better how to act in that primitive society than he did here in the land where he’d been born.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Elizabeth said.
“You seem to be saying that quite a lot this evening.” Linnette addressed the comment to Elizabeth, but her eyes had turned to him. “You mustn’t mind your wife. She has a great habit of sticking both her feet in her mouth.”
“I thought we had decided to be friends again.” Elizabeth faced Linnette, keeping her gaze from him. Did she find it easier to talk to her friends than to look him in the face?
“We are getting there,” Linnette answered. “And besides, I am trying to help you. You didn’t actually mean that you wanted your husband to sail back to wherever it was he came from, did you?”
He waited. It would be very like Elizabeth to say ”yes” just to spite him, no matter what she actually felt. It was a mean-spirited thought, but his wife did speak without thinking when pressed.
Her eyes
dropped to his feet and worked their way up his calves, then his thighs. They paused, then continued their way up to his shoulders. Her eyes lingered. She did seem to like his shoulders. And finally her gaze returned to his face.
“I suppose I do prefer him here.” She did not sound completely confident, but there was a message in her eyes. Now, if only he knew her well enough to read what it was. “It is nice to have somebody about the house.”
He turned to all the women. “She does have reason to be mad at me—or at least she thinks she does, and I will not argue —but I would like to explain.”
Kathryn walked up and placed a hand on his sleeve. It did not send sparks through him the way it did when Elizabeth touched him. “What on earth did you do? Or can’t you say?”
“I made her feel that I didn’t actually like her. That I was only being attentive to put on a show.”
“And were you?” Kathryn pulled her hand away.
He looked down at his evening slippers. Why couldn’t men just wear sensible boots to these affairs? “Perhaps.”
“There is no ‘perhaps’.” Linnette came and stood in front of him, a hand on each hip. “Either you like her or you don’t.”
He was definitely beginning to understand why Harrington avoided the ladies en masse. “I was truly enjoying myself, but I also wanted the world to know it. I know how rare it is for even the most loving of husbands to spend an evening with his wife, and I wanted to show the world that I didn’t care, that I enjoyed being with Elizabeth.”
“So you enjoy being with your wife, but you pretended you enjoyed it even more than you do?” Annabelle joined in.
“No. Yes.” This was worse than the Inquisition.
Linnette took another step toward him. “So do you love your wife?”
He froze. He simply froze. He had never even imagined being asked the question, much less considered the answer. He hardly knew her. Of course, he couldn’t love her. Could he?
“Oh, leave my poor husband alone.” Much to his surprise it was Elizabeth who came to his rescue. “I think if anyone is going to ask him that question, it will be me—and it will not be in front of all of you.”
He took a step nearer to her, putting his hand upon her shoulder. He did like that she was so tall. It was so wonderful not to have to adjust his body to accommodate hers. A sudden picture filled his mind of just what other ways their bodies might fit together. He turned his body slightly away. Any one of these ladies might comment on his reaction to the closeness of his wife if he did not. “Do you wish to go someplace in private to discuss the matter?”
“Do you wish to be in private?”
Damnation—he turned further. The thought of being in private with Elizabeth was almost too much. There were times when it was painful being a man.
Linnette coughed lightly, and it was clear that she had caught his discomfort and the reason for it. “Yes,” she said. “I do think you should head off someplace private, someplace where you will not be caught out.”
“I rather think I agree,” Kathryn added.
Annabelle laughed. “Do you see how we are all looking out for you? Not forcing you to answer any awkward questions? I do hope you appreciate our kindness.”
He was not sure whether the comments were aimed at him or at Elizabeth.
“I don’t know whether or not he agrees,” Elizabeth said, “but I certainly appreciate your kindness—and I value your friendships.” She walked to each of the women, pausing before giving them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She went to Linette last. “I truly am sorry for anything I have done to cause you pain, and I do wish you the best with Doveshire. Nothing could make me happier.”
“Thank you,” Linnette said.
A sudden commotion from the direction of the house caused them all to turn.
Harrington strode into view, Doveshire behind him. A struggling Swatts was held between them.
“Look what we found listening in,” Harrington stated, striding forward.
“Definitely trying to hear things he shouldn’t,” Doveshire added.
Elizabeth could only stare at the men—and at the evil, little Swatts. She refused to classify him as a man.
And then suddenly she knew. It might have been the nub of a pencil he still held in his hands or it might have been nothing more than instinct, but she knew. “It was him. All along it’s been him.”
“It has not,” Swatts answered.
“Has not what?” William strode forward, coming to tower over him.
Swatts looked nervously between the men. Evidently women were not worth his notice. “I don’t know,” he said, obviously afraid he had already admitted too much. “She’s crazy, doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
William stretched himself higher. “She is my wife. You should watch what you say.”
“Then you should have treated her like a wife—although I understand why you did not. She’s clearly become a little deranged because she’s been left to manage on her own.”
There was a moment of silence. Her gut clenched. She was so tired of fighting for herself.
And then William punched him, his hand connecting hard with Swatts’ chin. Swatts swung between Harrington and Doveshire like laundry on the line.
Elizabeth blinked. That had not just happened, had it?
Yes, evidently it had.
William had punched him. And he didn’t look sorry at all.
She should be upset, but instead she felt pride. Besides, if what she suspected was true, Swatts deserved far more than a cuff on the chin. “He is responsible for the cartoons—at least the mean ones,” she said.
“But why . . . ?”
“How?”
“Are you sure?”
It was impossible to tell who was saying what, but it was clear that despite the questions, nobody truly doubted her conclusion.
“I don’t quite know why he was doing it, but I am sure it’s been him. I don’t know him well, barely remember meeting him before tonight, but I’ve seen him send hateful looks at all of us. Look, he’s even holding a pencil. He was probably ready to do another cartoon. Can’t you just imagine the five of us alone in the garden with just my husband for company? I am sure that something quite scandalous could be drawn about that.”
“But why?” Linnette asked. “I can understand why he would wish to hurt myself and Doveshire. He’s made almost direct threats about it, and I know he is jealous of Doveshire.”
Doveshire shrugged his agreement.
“And he was furious at me for defending you at the opera,” Annabelle added. “He didn’t like when I foiled his plans. The cartoon of myself and Tattingstong came out almost immediately after.”
“But why the cartoons of myself and Harrington, or the ones of Elizabeth and Westhampton?” Kathryn asked. “What have we done?”
“Let him go,” William said. His face suddenly darkened and without a word he slugged him again—twice. Despite now being free, Swatts made no effort to fight back—rather his eyes shifted back and forth as if looking for someplace to run. And then he fell to his knees.
William took a step back; his hands were still fisted, but clearly he would not hit a man once he was down.
“Forgive me.” William turned to her. “I have been living among primitive societies.” He did not look sorry. Shaking out his hand, he turned to the others. “He did it for the bloody money. It’s where he’s been getting his gambling funds.”
“You’re right.” It was Annabelle who spoke up. “He must have seen how popular Lucille’s drawings were and decided to cash in. I don’t know why we didn’t see it.”
“You didn’t see it, because there was no reason to.” Doveshire spoke for the first time. “He is a sniveling nobody—the sort of man one never notices. And there was nothing to connect you all.”
“Nothing until Lucille drew that first drawing,” Annabelle added.
“But why the one of me and Harrington?” Kathryn walked forward, her eyes focuse
d on Swatts.
“It was a damned mistake,” Swatts spit out, a trickle of red at the corner of his mouth. “I have a man who helps me—I don’t actually draw. The pencil is just for taking notes. I told the man to draw the dowager duchess with the duke. I meant bloody Doveshire, but he’d heard gossip and drew Harrington. I had the replacement printed as soon as possible. If only you’d given me funds I would have stopped then.”
“I doubt that,” Doveshire said. “Your kind never stops without cause.”
“My kind,” Swatts laughed, brittlely. “What exactly is my kind—those who do without? You have it all and you don’t even appreciate it. Besides, you should be thanking me. My luck was dastardly. Every time I drew a cartoon it seemed to backfire. I wanted you jeered at and instead within a couple of days, love doves started cooing. It’s enough to make a man sick.”
William curled his hand into a fist again.
Swatts shut his mouth.
“And what now?” Harrington asked.
The three men looked at each other. Wasn’t that just like men, thinking they had to solve all the problems? Not one of them seemed to remember that it was she who had figured it out.
She resisted the urge to snort and turned instead to Swatts. He did look pathetic, kneeling in the dirt, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, one eye beginning to swell. Still, it was hard to feel sorry for him.
Turning to Doveshire, she smiled. “I think you should give him an estate.”
“You what?” Several voices answered at once.
“Or maybe I should say a plantation. You do have one in the West Indies, don’t you? I seem to remember Linnette complaining about how nobody would stay and manage it—something about malaria, heat, a lack of labor, and I can’t remember what the last problem was.”
Linnette pursed her lips. “There were no unmarried English women within miles and miles of the plantation—and the house was falling down, almost melting into the forest.”
